Date #35: Point Taken

I've always been a fan of the motto--

"If you're going to screw up, screw up big."

...or something like that.

Since the last dinner party, everyone had been mad at me with the exception of Turner, so that was who I called right before Connor showed up so that we could "talk."

ME: I have a bad feeling this is going to turn into boom boom.
TURNER: So maybe you should tell him not to come over.
ME: I can't do that.
TURNER: Why?
ME: Because I really want him to.
TURNER: You realize you're threatening both your celibacy, your friendship with Brian, and any hope of making things right with Charlie.
ME: I'm a gay man. Making bad decisions is practically a genetic behavioral pattern.
TURNER: I don't believe that, and you know you don't either.
ME: First off, I shouldn't have to make things right with Charlie. We're not serious.
TURNER: He adores you.
ME: Well, I'm sorry, but who asked him to adore me?
TURNER: Wow, prick much?
ME: I know, I know, I know. But how am I supposed to move on with my life if I don't get closure with Connor?
TURNER: Little hint, Kevin. You never get closure with guys like Connor. That's how they're able to retain power over you forever--it's because they never really cut ties with you. They keep you on a leash.
ME: I know, but it's such a hot leash.
TURNER: Kevin--
ME: And as far as Brian goes, I had Connor first, so if stuff happens with him, it'll just be me evening the score a little bit.
TURNER: I'll leave that bit of stupidity alone for a second, and ask about the celibacy.
ME: The celibacy is what's making me act like a prick right now. I need physical attention, Turner. Kissing, screwing, deep tissue massage--I don't care. But I need something.
TURNER: And this is the best way to go about getting it?
ME: No, it's the worst way. But whereas my mind knows that, my body won't until after it's allievated from the burden I've put it under for the past few weeks.

With that, we said our good-byes and I went to get my hair.

A half hour later the doorbell rang. I ran downstairs and practically screamed "Take me!"--

--right into the face of Brian.

BRIAN: Hi.
ME: Hi.
BRIAN: Connor's not coming.
ME: Uh...he's not?
BRIAN: No, he's not.
ME: Well...all right.
BRIAN: He told me that he was planning on it, and from the massive amounts of gel you've piled onto your head I can tell you were planning on a little bit more than that.
ME: Brian--
BRIAN: I just want to say that I'm not sure we can keep being friends--
ME: Don't--
BRIAN: --Unless you can promise me you won't ever try to do anything with Connor again.
ME: He contacted me.
BRIAN: I'm aware of that. I'm also aware that he and I may break up in as little as a couple of days, or we might not. Either way, I'd appreciate you not doing anything with him.
ME: Like you didn't after he and I stopped seeing each other?
BRIAN: I'm not saying I'm being fair. I'm just telling it like it is. Am I a hypocrite? Yes, I am. But I'm also a human being with irrational emotions that, as my friend, you should at least attempt to accomodate when you can. You have Charlie, you have Paye, you have Republican guy--you just don't have Connor anymore. All I'm asking is that you don't sleep with him ever. If you did, I would never speak to you again. You could bitch and complain and come up with a number of reasons why I'd be an asshole for doing that, but I'd do it anyway. I can pretty much guarentee I'll never give you another ultimatum like this, but if you can't stay away from one guy in return for keeping this friendship alive, then I don't think I can be friends with you.
ME: That's insane.
BRIAN: Let's put it this way, if I asked you never to eat at a particular restaurant--not a chain of restaurants, not a type of restaurant, but a very specific restaurant--just one--would you say, 'That's not fair. I want to eat there. Why can't I eat there?' or would you just think 'You know what? Eating at one restaurant when there are a million restaurants in the world isn't worth losing a friend.'
ME: But what if I really like the restaurant?
BRIAN: Spoken like a guy who'll be eating alone.

And he walked away. I took a minute, and then shut the door.

I was livid.

I don't know why, but I was.

It wasn't that his demand was stupid. The restaurant analogy was kind of melodramatic and dumb, but it also made a certain degree of sense. No friend was worth some guy who clearly wasn't anything more than a glorified f**k-buddy.

On the other hand, I wasn't entirely sure I liked having Brian show up at my doorstep like he was Sydney from Melrose Place and I was Daphne Zuniga. What kind of friends could we be after this?

Then an idea hit me.

I called up Brian and told him I agreed to the deal. I would refrain from ever having physical contact with Connor in exchage for our friendship. Then I told Brian that I had a date planned for the following night and wondered if we could maybe make it a double date as a show of good faith.

Brian thought it might be awkward for all concerned, but I promised I would diffuse any tension with my friendly, comedic ways.

He said okay.

Then I made a phone call.

(This might be where you start to dislike me a little, be warned.)

Connor and Brian met me at the Trinity Brewhouse. I wanted a place with lots of noise in case there was...well...shouting.

You see, when Connor and Brian got there they met me and my date at the table--my date being Peter.

I thought Brian was going to either vomit or punch me in the face...or both.

He and Connor sat down, and I instantly started talking. I figured the only way to avoid there being an all-out brawl right then and there was to distract everyone with mindless conversation. It's moments like these when I turn into a bad stand-up comic. I did three minutes on the complexities of The Facts of Life (The Early Years) before Brian stopped me with a simple--

BRIAN: How did this happen?

It actually wasn't all that difficult.

When I phoned Peter, I explained to him my problem, and he agreed that Brian didn't seem to realize that it's one thing to live in a glass house, but it's another to live in a glass house next to rock quarry. (Me being the Head Quarry, um, Guy.)

He agreed to the double date, and even though a part of me felt bad for dragging Brian's ex- into this, another part of me thought:

Don't f**k with Daphne Zuniga.

After a very brief amount of time, Brian asked to see me in the bathroom. Unfortunately, we didn't even make it that far. As soon as we were behind a large potted plant he turned on me like a crazy circus elephant.

BRIAN: ARE YOU INSANE?
ME: You have to ask?
BRIAN: Is this one of those proving a point things?
ME: Clearly.
BRIAN: Okay, point taken. Now call this off.
ME: No.
BRIAN: Why not?
ME: Because I don't think you understand why what you asked was unfair.
BRIAN: I acknowledged that it was unfair!
ME: Yet you still asked!
BRIAN: AND YOU SAID FINE!
ME: STOP!

I just realized what I was doing:

Arguing with one of my best friends behind a potted plant while our two ex's sat at a table eating rolls and wondering why we were taking so long to either kill each other or pee.

And that was that.

ME: I don't want to do this.

I saw Brian's shoulders slump--the way they do after someone agrees with you that there can be no agreement.

BRIAN: Me either.
ME: We're supposed to be semi-adults. There's nothing adult about this.
BRIAN: Look, Connor and I are pretty much on the rocks anyway--
ME: It doesn't matter. I need to just let things be none of my business and convince myself to keep it that way.
BRIAN: You want to know the truth, Kevin? The truth is I spend an hour a day picking out my clothes, fixing my hair, and wondering if my face looks asymmetrical.
ME: Huh?
BRIAN: Just go with me on this. You walk out of the house with a giant plaid shirt on, dark brown cargo pants, sneakers that look lke you've been pig-farming in them--and you just act like--'Hey, who cares?' And you meet a guy like Charlie, whose cute, and sweet, and funny, and makes his own garlic bread. And I think, okay, so maybe you got lucky, but then you meet Connor, and Paye and--
ME: --And the idiot and the drug addict?
BRIAN: Okay, fine, but the point is--you don't do what any gay guy is supposed to do to meet guys and you still meet them and meanwhile I can't find anyone that really works for me.
ME: Finding people that work for you has nothing to do with wearing ugly sneakers, Brian. Oh my God, do I really have to give you this talk?
BRIAN: The 'it's what's inside you' talk?
ME: It's not even about what's inside you. It's about the 'Hey, who cares?' When I turned 22, I just stopped caring. That's what it's about. It's about saying, you know what, I'm going to do date who I want, wear what I want, and do what I want--and if anybody doesn't like it, screw them, because I'm in my twenties, I'm quick, and I'm not wasting time wondering what the asshole across the room is thinking about me. You do that and all of a sudden, people start wondering about you.

I put my arm around his shoulder and led him back to the table. We finished out the rest of the dinner and I brought Peter home later that night. We hugged and that was that.

Well, sort of...

I know tonight was mostly to get back at Brian, and I'm glad you two worked things out, but I was wondering if maybe you'd like to try a real date sometime - Peter

Oh Christ...

FRIEND: So are you going to do it?
ME: No.
FRIEND: Why not?
ME: Because I'm tired of--
FRIEND: Drama?
ME: Hell no. Life is drama. I'm tired of always having to wonder how I'm going to do damage control.
FRIEND: Honey, that's why we need to get you an agent.
ME: I don't need an agent. I need a change of pace.
FRIEND: Is this when you tell me you're giving up the blog?
ME: What would you say if I did?
FRIEND: I'd say I thought you were going to follow through?
ME: That might be the whole point.

But of course, I have one more surprise in store.

Door opens.

Kevin?

Me on the other end.

What are you doing here?

ME: I think I found what I'm looking for.

And in I go...