Date #64: You, Me, and Your Boyfriend

I don't know how I get myself into these things.

After spending the night with Ivan, I kept feeling like an absolute hussy. (That's right, I said "hussy.")

BRIAN: Why are you beating yourself up over it? Carrie Bradshaw did it and people still love her.

I was picking over my (usually) favorite dish at the NC feeling miserable, slutty, and not all that hungry. Brian noticed my demeanor immediately and made me confess the sordid details.

ME: It was Valentine's Day, and he called, and we were only supposed to watch TV--
BRIAN: Ba-Ruh, Ba-Ruh, Ba-Ruh--
ME: What--
BRIAN: Sorry, that was my bullshit alarm.
ME: I just wanted to cuddle.
BRIAN: And cuddling turned into canoodling?
ME: I'm not even going to justify the word 'canoodling' with a response.

Can't a guy just get a free pass to a really stupid thing on Valentine's Day?

...And his birthday? ...And Christmas time?

...And Arbor Day?

BRIAN: It is not your responsibility to make sure someone doesn't cheat on their boyfriend.
ME: That's what slutty people who sleep with taken men say after they sleep with them.
BRIAN: Hey, I'm not the one who's wrecking homes here.
ME: Thanks, thanks a bunch.
BRIAN: You know what I think your problem is?
ME: That I'm a whore?
BRIAN: Aside from that, I think the problem is that now you can't be Judgy McJudge Pants because you've made a morally reprehensible decision.

It's true. I have to relinquish my Judgy McJudge Pants robe and gavel.

ME: That may be part of it, but I also feel really bad that somewhere out there, some nice gay guy has just been wronged and I had a large part in it.
BRIAN: Solution?
ME: I'm never speaking to Ivan again. I'm not going to be 'that guy.'
BRIAN: Oh come on, you already applied, interviewed, and were hired to be 'that guy.' You might as well take the health benefits.

All I'll say in regards to that is that he did have a really good dental plan.

Later on that day I got a text message from Ivan:

Thank you for making Valentine's Day Extra Special. Come to dinner with me tonight--8pm. Wear something cute :o)

Oh Christ...

TURNER: Tell me you're not going to go.
ME: I'm not going to go.

Turner, Gary, and I were at Turner's apartment practicing dance moves. Actually Turner and I were practicing the final routine of our class for Paye and Gary was making us power food (aka Greek pasta salad) and injecting bits of sarcasm.

It was still a little weird for me to be around Gary and Turner knowing that they were now on the verge of being boyfriends. Happy as I was that Turner had patched up an old friendship and then some, I still kind of wished that Gary had been some random cool guy I went on a date with and had the option to pursue and not some old flame from my friend's past.

TURNER: You're going to go, aren't you?
ME: I already ironed the good shirt.
GARY: How sad is it that you only a shirt dubbed 'the good shirt'?
ME: FYI, I have 'the good shirt,' the 'better shirt,' and the 'venti mocha decaf shirt.'
GARY: Huh?
TURNER: It's the shirt someone spilled a venti mocha decaf on.
ME: He knows me so well.

We kept bumping into the couch, so we moved everything that could be moved into the hallway, forcing Gary to walk over the coffee table when he brought us some plates.

GARY: Way to make this easy for me.
ME: That's why you should stick to talking to us through the partition.
GARY: I am not a fry cook, Aunt Sassy. Now eat your pasta.
TURNER: We have to practice first.
GARY: Why do you guys care so much about this? You were just taking this class for fun.
ME: Yeah, but now we have to beat the snobby gays.

The snobby gays had gone from 'secondary characters we make fun of' to 'archenemies played by Michael Urie and Lance Bass in the miniseries.' They were constantly making remarks and then as soon as Turner and I would turn to look at them, they'd turn away and laugh to each other.

TURNER: It's like we're in high school again with those guys.
ME: With the addition of the flashy choreography.
GARY: Why don't you just tell them off?
TURNER: That's no fun.
ME: We want to theatrically slaughter them and then smirk in their direction.
GARY: Because that's the adult thing to do.

The Greek pasta salad was terrific. In addition to being a genuinely nice guy, Gary was also pretty good at whipping up a meal. Turner and Brian's refrigerator was filled with left-overs from all the dinner's Gary had been making at their place lately. Brian remarked at lunch that if Gary kept this up he could live with them rent-free for one promised pancake breakfast a month.

While we took a break and ate, Turner and I went back and forth on me showing up for the date.

TURNER: So you don't think this guy is bad news?
ME: I do, but I think I should let him know that I'm cutting him off before I actually cut him off.
GARY: That should be a hell of a farewell party.
ME: I plan on conducting myself with poise and class.
TURNER: You're going to wait until after the appetizers to beg him for sex?
ME: I might make it to the entree.

That night at dinner, I was indeed the picture of Jackie O. I was cautious yet cute, friendly yet not flirty. I just kept picturing George Clooney in Out of Sight--you want me, I want you, we want each other, but I'm too suave to let you get me.

IVAN: You look really nice tonight.

Bet your bottom dollar, baby.

ME: Thank you.
IVAN: Really. You look amazing.

Thank you, 'good shirt,' you've come through for me again.

ME: Should we order?
IVAN: Actually, we're going to be joined by someone in a little while.

And I knew. The way you know on television shows. The way you see a character sitting at a dinner table after he's just slept with a taken guy and you just know--

ME: Don't even tell me.
IVAN: Justin really wants to meet you.
ME: Why? Why does he want to meet me?
IVAN: I told him about you.

Na-who-what-what?

ME: Now, when you say you told him about--
IVAN: I came clean. It was really bothering me.
ME: Did you think you might want to share that information with me before you sent me a text with a smiley face in it asking me to come here tonight?
IVAN: It was really important to Justin that you come.
ME: So you tricked me?
IVAN: Kevin--
ME: I'm out of here.

I got up to leave, and that's when Justin walked in--amazing timing, of course. Part of me wonders if he was waiting by the door of the restaurant debating whether or not he had it in him to actually come face-to-face with me.

He walked right up to the table--smiling like someone at an AA meeting.

JUSTIN: Hi, I'm Justin.
ME: Hi, I'm mortified.
JUSTIN: Sorry?
ME: Never mind.

I sat down. He sat down. There was silence.

IVAN: So...
ME: So?
JUSTIN: I...wanted to meet you.
ME: Can I ask why?
JUSTIN: Look, uh--
IVAN: Why don't I use the men's room? That way you two can talk privately.

He left the table with me wondering if he was planning on getting someone's number off a stall while he was in there.

JUSTIN: I know this must be awkward.
ME: This is unbearable, for me personally, and I would assume it's the same for you.
JUSTIN: Actually...Yes. But I had to do it.
ME: Why?
JUSTIN: I wanted to see what you looked like.

Here comes the guilt...

JUSTIN: I thought, Okay, if he's cuter than me I'll be able to handle it, because I'll know it's just about looks. And if he's smarter than me, then I'll know it's just about being able to hold a conversation because sometimes Ivan and I have trouble talking, and if this, and if that, and I just thought if I met you somehow I could make it better. I could be better at this...this relationship.

I wasn't sure what to say. It may have been the most insecure statement I'd ever heard that didn't come from my own head.

ME: Justin, you don't need to make anything better. You just need to get rid of Ivan.
JUSTIN: I don't want to get rid of him. I really like him. He's by far the best guy I've dated.
ME: Wow, you must have worked your way through a real Shithead Brigade then.
JUSTIN: My friends all tell me it's what guys do--they cheat.
ME: And you're willing to live with that idea?
JUSTIN: I'm trying to.
ME: Fuck that noise.
JUSTIN: Excuse me?
ME: Sorry, it's an expression.
JUSTIN: Ivan will probably be coming back--
ME: I don't care if he is coming back. Look, what I did was wrong. I'm the other man. I realize this, but you should be bitching me out right now, and it sounds like you're apologizing.

This was the point when Ivan returned.

IVAN: So, you guys been talking?
ME: Yes, we have. I've been trying to undo the brainwashing.
IVAN: What?
JUSTIN: We're fine.
ME: No, we're not. He should hate me.
JUSTIN: I don't.
IVAN: That's great.
ME: It is not! It is not great! He's being walked all over.
IVAN: Kevin, calm down.

Why was I so riled up? When did I become the avenger of the cuckholded boyfriend? Especially when I had been the one doing the cucking.

I stood up defiantly.

ME: Justin, you seem like a nice guy, which makes me feel incredibly bad, and I want to apologize to you--regardless of how you feel about it. I'm very sorry. And I know it's not my place to say it, but I think it's awful that you think you're always going to get cheated on. Maybe you are always going to get cheated on, but that'll only be because you expect it and accept it.

Expect it and accept it? Now I was making rhyming slogans?

ME: You need to know that you're way too good for people like Ivan here and--and people like me, too. I'm...I'm sorry. Bye.

I walked out of the restaurant feeling really foolish and really...out of body. I felt like I had just talked to myself four years ago and told him not to turn into the guy that was standing in front of him. The savvy, stalwart smart-ass was walking back to his car after grandstanding thinking, Boy, I'm glad I'm not back there, and thinking, Boy, I used to be good like that. Uncorrupted. Made seemingly happy by the littlest things.

FRIEND: That story should have ended with the three of you in bed instead of you philosophizing on Bowen Street like a homeless ex-Brown professor.
ME: Please don't give me any more reasons to have to return to organized religion. I'm already in need of some higher redemption.
FRIEND: What? Sorry, honey, I was looking at my tattoo. It's a lion.
ME: Where is it?
FRIEND: Above the cobra.
ME: Gotcha.
FRIEND: It's yummy, baby.
ME: So what do you think about the date?
FRIEND: Here's how I would have written it.

Justin walked into the restaurant.

JUSTIN: You cold-hearted f**king whore! Stay the f**k away from my man!
ME: I'm trying, but your man's d**k keeps tapping me on the shoulder asking me to turn around and give it some attention since you're obviously not going to!
JUSTIN: You better shut your mouth, you little t***k.
ME: Who you callin' a t***k, p***yman?

Ivan stood up and tried to come between us.

IVAN: Boys, stop fighting over me.
ME: Please, your name is Ivan. Fuck off.
JUSTIN: Yeah, why am I dating you? Why am I not dating a hot, dark-haired, shorter guy with a lion tattoo?
IVAN: So leave then!
JUSTIN: Fine!

Justin throws a drink in Ivan's face and walks out. I followed after him, and Ivan followed after me. We somehow ended up on the Brown quad in a tangled mess of skin and--

I thought you were my fairytale
A dream when I'm not sleeping
A wish upon a star
Thats coming true
But everybody else could tell
That I confused my feelings with the truth
When there was me and you

ME: What happened?
FRIEND: I had them break into "When There Was Me and You."
ME: In the middle of a three-way?
FRIEND: Why not? That s**t is hot.
ME: I'll stick with the way it happened.
FRIEND: Maybe you should have asked that Justin kid out on a date. I don't mean to blow up your spot, but I've noticed you're nowhere near 100 boys.
ME: I said multiple dates were allowed.
FRIEND: Wasn't the whole point of this f**ked up gay monkey hit the button experiment that you meet lots of people? What are you on? Guy 10?
ME: I'm almost on par--minus about twenty or so.
FRIEND: False advertising, whore. That's all I'm saying.

I've actually been considering this myself. First off, I'm not sure I can make it to 100 just using the resources I have now. I seem to run into the same boys all the time. Secondly, I do want to meet more people before this whole shebang is over. So, I called on someone I thought might be able to help.

SCOOTER: Are you asking me to fix you up with people?
ME: Not really fix me up. Just expose me to more people.
SCOOTER: Say no more. I am going to liven up your blog, dude.
ME: Scooter, I don't need you to--
SCOOTER: I'm on it.

Tune in for the next entry, ladies and gentlemen.

I think this is about to get really interesting.