Date #79: Get Me Drunk

Let me start this off with a disclaimer.

Actually, a few disclaimers.

I have never been drunk in my life.

I have never even had more than one drink at a time--ever.

The total number of drinks I've had in my lifetime?

Four.

So please understand that when I made the following offer to Turner, I was truly trying to cheer him up, since most of my friends hate the fact that I don't drink.

ME: Get me drunk.

We were sitting in his room as he waited for Gary to call. Gary had been at a friend's house for the past couple of days, and had not made contact aside from an e-mail saying "I need some time."

In his absence, Brian, Nick, Scooter, and myself had all taken up residence in the House of Heartbreak. At the moment, Brian was in the kitchen attempting to make brownies so that Turner could lick the bowl (because how could that not cheer you up?) while I was wowing him with a long-assumed-lost VHS tape of mine recently found in a box of stuff from a long-ago move--a recording of an entire night of SNICK.

For those of you who don't remember SNICK, be ashamed. Be very ashamed.

Saturday Night Nick was a tradition for me during childhood. It was sort of like TGIF except Nickelodeon style. There were four shows, and over the years they changed order and there were many substitutions. I, however, own one of the collector's editions--a full line-up of the four original SNICK shows.

It started with Clarissa Explains It All, followed by Ren and Stimpy, then a little SNL for the tween set with Roundhouse, and closed out like any good Saturday evening should be--with the original, scary-as-hell Are You Afraid of the Dark?

As enthralled as I was, I could see it wasn't doing much for Turner.

TURNER: I'm sorry, Kevin. Even Clarissa can't help me right now.
ME: I can do my Lori Beth Denberg 'Vital Information' impersonation.
TURNER: Old school Nick just isn't going to cut it.

This was scarier than when I pledged 248 hours to the Big Help and thought they were actually going to come after me if I didn't do them.

Brian came in with the bowl of brownie batter.

BRIAN: How's everything going?
ME: He watched Roundhouse and still felt depressed.
BRIAN: Should we try oral sex?
TURNER: Don't bother. I can't have sex when I feel this lousy.
BRIAN: That's funny. I once dated a guy who could only have sex when he felt lousy.

Looking at Turner, I felt so bad for him. Gary was more than just a live-in boyfriend to him. He was a long-time friend. If this relationship really was over, then Turner was going to need a lot of support.

TURNER: Part of me just wants to get drunk, but I have to work tomorrow morning.

And for some reason, the first thought that popped into my mind was: I don't.

ME: I don't.
TURNER: Don't what?
ME: Have to work tomorrow morning.
BRIAN: Good for you.

And that's when it hit me.

ME: Get me drunk.

They both looked at me as if I had just started speaking Cantonese.

BRIAN: Pardon?
ME: I'm going out with Andy again tonight, but he said he feels like a night in, and he already knows about the whole...thing with...you know.
TURNER: You can say his--
ME: Gary, he knows about Gary. And...it might...cheer you up.

And before he even spoke, I knew that it would. I could see Turner's lips start to upturn.

TURNER: Kevin, you don't have to do that.
ME: I'm going to have to do it eventually anyway. You can't go through you entire life without getting drunk. It's a rite of passage I should have experienced years ago.
BRIAN: I think it's a fantastic idea!
TURNER: You would.
BRIAN: Turner, he's doing this for you. Don't look a gift horse in the mouth.
ME: Wait!

I knew if I didn't set boundaries, Brian would have me out on 295--tipsy and hitchhiking while he filmed the whole thing from an off-ramp.

ME: Here are the rules. I want a controlled environment.
BRIAN: We can stay right here. It'll be more fun that way anyway.
ME: Like a rat in a maze.
BRIAN: Exactly.
TURNER: That's fine with me. I don't want to go out and potentially run into Gary.
ME: Two, I hate the taste of alcohol, that's why I never drink in the first place--
BRIAN: --And cause you're a Lame Larry.
TURNER: Brian!
ME: So if you're going to get me drunk, you're going to need to make my drinks fruity and strong.
BRIAN: Just like how I like my men. No problem.
ME: And three, if at any point I start to act crazy, you are to send me to a room and lock the door. I've never been drunk. I don't know how I'll act, but just in case I go nuts, I don't want to make a total fool of myself.
BRIAN: But that's the whole point!
TURNER: It's a deal, Kevin.
ME: Great. Then let's go get some hooch.

Of course, it wasn't going to be just Andy, Brian, Turner, and I. Where would the amusement be in that? Once Brian put out the call that Kevin Broccoli was getting drunk for the first time, my cell phone wouldn't stop ringing.

VOICEMAIL #1: Kevin, this is Dwight. I'm bringing some of the best stuff in mother's secret stash. This woman has stuff back when liquor used to be mixed in bathtubs while the prohibition police patrolled the streets.

SOUND OF MRS. BROWN'S VOICE IN THE BACKGROUND: Ha ha, Dwight--inaudible, inaudible--think you got conceived?

DWIGHT: See you tonight.

VOICEMAIL #2: Kev, it's Paye. Turner says you're getting drunk. I'll give you a year free at the studio if you let me come.

VOICEMAIL #3: (From Scooter) Getting wasted is only half the fun. The other half is drunken sex with Scooter. Seeeeee-ya there!

All in all, we had about twenty people at Turner's house. What was supposed to be a nice, night in turned out to be an all out kegger--minus the keg of course, we're gay guys not frat boys.

At a certain point, I think everyone forgot that me getting drunk was the big event of the evening, which was just fine by me. Turner seemed to be having fun, and that was my main goal.

Of course, Scooter didn't forget the mission of the evening.

SCOOTER: Try this. It's all pineapple. You won't even know what's tapping you until you're tapped.

So I drank...and drank...and drank.

I was very responsible, however. I made sure I ate beforehand, and I paced myself. Who knew how much I could handle? And to be honest, I really didn't feel anything at all.

Andy was nice enough to monitor me for most of the evening.

ME: So is it tacky that I've invited you to watch me get drunk?
ANDY: Incredibly tacky, but also quite enjoyable.
ME: Is it weird that I don't feel anything?
ANDY: No. It would be common for a drunk person not to believe they're actually drunk.
ME: But I'm not acting any different.
ANDY: Not everybody does.

Scooter came over again.

SCOOTER: This is called a Scoot Over.
ME: Why is it called that?
SCOOTER: Because everyone I make it for ends up hung-over in bed next to me.

When I had taken my drink, he walked away. Andy gave me a look.

ANDY: You have an odd assortment of friends.
ME: Oh, we're not technically friends. He's just someone I make bad decisions with once in awhile.
ANDY: Gotcha.

Did I just say that? I wouldn't normally say that. Was that the liquor talking?

ME: What kind of underwear do you have on?
ANDY: Excuse me?
ME: You're a boxer briefs guy, aren't you?
ANDY: Yeah, most guys are.
ME: They're blue, aren't they?
ANDY: How did you know that?
ME: Blue boxer briefs are easy to spot. Fun, sweet, good-humored.
ANDY: What about other colors?
ME: Red boxer briefs mean you're shy but kinky. Black mean you think you rock in bed, and you might but more likely you might not--
ANDY: What about stripes and stuff?
ME: Someone who puts that much thought into their underwear is clearly getting laid a lot.

Was I waxing philosophic on underwear?

ANDY: So I'm fun, sweet, and--
ME: Good-humored. That's why I like you.
ANDY: I like you, too.
ME: Cool.
ANDY: Yeah.

Silence.

ME: Can I see the blue boxer briefs?

Cut to me making out with him in Turner's bedroom and reaching my hands down--

Well, you get the picture.

We didn't do much, because about five minutes in Scooter burst into the room and laughed.

SCOOTER: The Scoot Over still works.
ME: It's not getting me into bed with you.
SCOOTER: The night is still young, my little friend.

As Andy and I made our way back into the kitchen, I heard sobbing coming from the bathroom. I knocked on the door and heard Turner say 'Come in.'

I went into the bathroom to find him curled up in the bathtub holding his cell phone like it was a miniature infant.

ME: What's wrong?
TURNER: I tried calling Gary. He answered, said he was busy, and then hung...hung...
ME: Hung up?

And then came more sobbing.

I managed to console him enough to get him out of the bathtub and back into the kitchen where Dwight, Nick, and Brian were playing Be Honest.

Be Honest is maybe one of the most dangerous games any group of people can play. It basically involves getting drunk and then asking your friends to answer honest questions about you. I've seen people come to blows over Be Honest. I've seen relationships broken up over Be Honest. So why do people play it?

I should probably mention that I've also seen an astounding number of people get laid because of Be Honest. That's why.

BRIAN: Nick, be honest. How big is Nick Jr.?
NICK: Bigger than your Nick Jr.
DWIGHT: How would you know?
NICK: I've seen him walk from the bathroom to his bedroom after a shower.
BRIAN: I take cold showers. There's shrinkage.
NICK: You'd have to take showers in the refrigerator for it to shrink that much.

I tried to dissuade them from continuing with the game, but they ended up roping me into it.

NICK: Kevin, be honest--
ME: I'd rather not be.
NICK: You've had some type of sexual contact with most of your friends.
BRIAN: Not with me.
NICK: Fine. Then we'll exclude you.
ME: I'm so not answering whatever question this is leading to.
DWIGHT: You have to!
ME: Ugh...
NICK: Out of all of us here tonight, whose the best kisser?

Oh Christ...

ME: Absolutely not. No way.
BRIAN: Just answer.
DWIGHT: C'mon.
ME: No way.
TURNER: Kevin, come on, we're just talking about kissing.
BRIAN: What are you freaking out for?

At that moment, Andy entered the room.

ME: I think that would be tasteless to say with Andy here.
ANDY: Don't use me to get off the hook. I want to hear, too.

Scooter came into the room with another drink.

SCOOTER: This one is a 'Strip Poker.'
NICK: Kevin has to answer the question first.

I had no choice.

ME: Fine, fine, fine. The best kisser is--

There are three answers here:

1) The honest answer--sadly, Scooter.
2) The appropriate answer--Andy, of course.
3) The right answer

ME: Andy is inelligible because we still have lots of future kissing to do, which means Turner is the best kisser here tonight.

Turner smiled--and everyone went "Awww..."

SCOOTER: F**k this. It's time to party.

Paye had everyone move the coffee table and somehow we all ended up doing the Electric Slide in the living room. Now, you may ask, how do twenty people do the Electric Slide--a dance known for needing lots of space--in an average-sized living room?

Very drunkenly.

I saw more people falling on each other and laughing and then getting right back up to Boogie Woogie Woogie then I had seen at my Aunt's Drunken 80's Wedding back when I was the tiny ring-bearer.

That was, interestingly enough, the first time I had ever tried wine, when I swiped some off the head table. Of course, I'd been making up for lost time all night.

After another hour or so, the guests left, and some of us stayed behind to help clean up.

It was in the kitchen with Scooter, Dwight, Andy, and Nick that I finally revealed my apparent high tolerance for alcohol.

ME: I got to tell you guys, I feel great right now. I could run a marathon. Must be my Irish blood.
SCOOTER: Or the fact that I've been giving you virgins all night.

Suddenly, they were all laughing.

ME: Huh?
DWIGHT: Turner told us not to really get you drunk.
NICK: He didn't want you to have your first drinking experience to be under these particular circumstances.
SCOOTER: I wouldn't have gone along with it, but then I realized it might be more fun to see you think you were drunk.
ME: You're kidding me. I haven't had a drink all night?
DWIGHT: Well, you have, just nothing with alcohol in it.
ME: But the Scoot Over, the Strip Poker--
SCOOTER: The Strip Poker was Sprite, apple juice, and three packs of equal.

Well, so much for that.

Andy left about twenty minutes later. I gave him a kiss at the door and told him I'd call him tomorrow. He's turning out to be quite the sweetie.

I was the last person to leave, and when I did I was so tired I might as well have been drunk.

FRIEND: That's like saying 'I might as well have been pregnant.' You ain't having no baby.
ME: Sorry for the disappointing twist ending.
FRIEND: Why didn't you just spend the whole party singing folk songs and watching a Raffi concert?
ME: The party was for Turner. He needed friends around him.
FRIEND: All I need after a boy leaves is a martini and a mop.
ME: You're just mad because you can't do the electric slide.
FRIEND: Bitch, please. I will ooga booga booga your ass off any dance floor.
ME: At least my drunken virginity is still intact.
FRIEND: Unlike the rest of you.
ME: Cheers to that.

I went to say good-bye to Turner, and I found him stretched out in his bed looking a little weepy-eyed, but a little peaceful too.

I got in bed next to him and wrapped my arms around him.

TURNER: Can I ask a favor?
ME: No, I'm mad at you. You kept me sober all night.
TURNER: You'd be regretting it tomorrow if you had actually drank that much, trust me.
ME: What's the favor?
TURNER: Stay with me tonight.
ME: Turner--
TURNER: I didn't say sleep with me, just...actually sleep with me. I don't wan tto be alone.
ME: Well...
TURNER: Just until I fall asleep.
ME: Deal.

I stayed where I was until I could feel his body relax--it was the nicest feeling--even better than being drunk...

...I'd imagine.

Smile