Date #95: A Black Tie Affair

We were all back at the Cheesecake Factory with the exception of Dwight. Since Pride, he'd been skillfully avoiding any opportunity to run into me.

I was making this difficult for him.

VOICEMAIL: Dwight, this is Kevin. Just because you once again confessed your love for me and admitted that you're moving away thereby fulfilling my worst nightmare that everyone I know will one day leave me, that doesn't me we can't eat pizza together from time to time. Call me.

VOICEMAIL: Dwight, I'm outside your house as we speak. As soon as I see you walk out the door, seven ex-Israeli army men are going to grab you, shove you into the white van I'm driving, and we're all going out for doughboys in Warwick. Cell me.

VOICEMAIL: Dwight, I'm sorry I ran away from you. It was stupid and childish. Please call me...And by the way, you still have my copy of The Goonies. You can keep it for another week as long as you text, e-mail, or--just to drive the point home--call me.

Nobody seemed surprised that he wasn't returning my phone calls.

SCOOTER: Why can't you just love the poor guy?
ME: Scooter! Turner, aren't you the one whose supposed to yell his name when he's inappropriate?
TURNER: You two really are very cute together, Kevin.
ME: Cuter than me and Jesse?
TURNER: No, but you're stringing Jesse along--
BRIAN: --Because you're going to end up with Charlie.
NICK: He's not going to end up with Charlie.
ME: Finally, someone doesn't think I'm predictable.
NICK: He's going to end up alone.
ME: I hate you all.

Nobody was all that thrilled with me since their little bet had fallen apart, which meant we were all paying for our own meals tonight.

Still, everyone was putting in their two cents as to who I should wind up with by Date #100.

TURNER: You know, I went back and read the blog and that guy Danny was really sweet.
ME: I think he's on meth now.
NICK: I personally liked Sean.
ME: Yeah, he was great except for the whole 'moving to London' thing.
SCOOTER: You totally should have moved to London.
BRIAN: I'm sticking with Charlie. You two are like Ross and Rachel.
TURNER: Zach and Kelly.
NICK: Shemar Moore and Taye Diggs.

Silence.

NICK: Think about how hot that would be before all of you start giving me the judgmental faces.

When I got home that night, my phone rang. The call came in as "Elephant" which has been my code name for Dwight since we first met.

DWIGHT: Hey.
ME: Hey.
DWIGHT: What are you doing?
ME: I'm not watching The Goonies.
DWIGHT: Yeah, I'll get that back to you. I'm trying to perfect my truffle shuffle.
ME: It's okay. I've seen the movie so many times I can replay it in my head at will.
DWIGHT: I'd like to say that what I said on Pride was the result of drinking too much, but at that point I was incredibly sober.
ME: And did you stay that way?
DWIGHT: Um, no. I got so drunk I might still be hung-over. I also may or may not have witnessed a fight between two bears.
ME: Actual bears or bear-like men?
DWIGHT: When you're that drunk, it could go either way.

So far we were doing pretty well with the convo. It had to be handled delicately or else it would shatter into a million pieces like Mariah's post-TRL psyche.

DWIGHT: Look, the point is, I don't have a lot of time left in Rhode Island, and I'd like to spend it with people I care about, and that includes you.

I actually heard Scooter in my head saying "Why can't you just love the poor guy?"

I wish I knew, Scooter.

DWIGHT: ...And that's why I need the favor.
ME: Wait, what favor?
DWIGHT: I need you to go to the Black Tie Ball with me.
ME: What's the Black Tie Ball? Is it like Oprah's Legend's Ball? Will Toni Morrison be there?
DWIGHT: It's...actually not at all similar in any way, but yes, Toni Morrison should be there.

Apparently, the Black Tie Ball is a gala Mrs. Brown throws every year where she and her rich friends gather and celebrate...I don't know...being rich, I guess.

DWIGHT: They tried raising money for the poor one year, but it just depressed all of them.
ME: I thought your mother was a bleeding heart liberal.
DWIGHT: She is! But nobody loves a pointless party more than a bleeding heart liberal.
ME: And you want me to be your date?
DWIGHT: Yes, and I'm willing to make it worth your while.
ME: Dwight, you don't have to--
DWIGHT: No, no, no. Just to prove to you that this is not some elaborate set-up to get you under the stars in formal attire and hope that you fall in love with me, I'm going to let you in on a well-kept secret.
ME: Is it that clip on youtube of the two black Atlanta women talking about penis power? Because I'm already well--
DWIGHT: No...I mean, in terms of meeting guys. My mother's party happens to be the place to meet elite, single, young gay men.
ME: Are you serious?
DWIGHT: A long time ago my mother made friends with all the rich society matrons whose sons are gay, and every year she invites them and their sons to this party. After last year's soiree they all got wasted out on Reggie's yacht and--
ME: Great, another mass orgy.
DWIGHT: They're not that tacky. It was mostly making out. The point is, you probably haven't met most of these guys before and they're all very smart, and witty, and rich. So...it might be worth going for that.
ME: So you're in love with me and you're trying to set me up at the same time?
DWIGHT: Is it cliche to say I just want you to be happy?
ME: It is, but I adore you for it anyway. I'm in, and not to meet a guy. I'm in because you want me there. And because I haven't seen Mrs. Brown in awhile, and I need a fix.
DWIGHT: You'll get a fix all right. She's at the peak of existence at this shindig.
ME: Giggity giggity.

Going to the black tie affair meant...well...getting a black tie, which meant a trip to my cousin's tuxedo rental place.

SPAZ: Kevano!
ME: Please don't try to Italianize my first name, Spaz. It's Irish, and there's nothing we can do about that.
SPAZ: Pop! Kevano's here!

My cousin Spaz is aptly nicknamed since he has a combo of A.D.D. and...Well, he kind of resembles what a Guido muppet would look like. My uncle Eddie is a burly man, but very sweet. He hugs you and you feel like you're being eaten by a mattress.

UNCLE EDDIE: You don't come around anymore! You embarrassed of your Uncle Eddie?
ME: No, but I am a little embarrassed of Spaz.
UNCLE EDDIE: Who the f**k isn't?
SPAZ: Hey!

I told them I needed a nice-looking suit for a black tie event in Newport, and that I didn't want to look like an extra from Donny Brasco (you have to specify this because it baffles them as to why you wouldn't want to look like that).

Luckily, my Uncle Eddie knows his business well, but just in case, I asked Brian and Turner to stop by and tell me what looked the best.

They showed up just as I was exiting the dressing room in Uncle Eddie's first choice for me.

I thought that something must be horribly wrong. Brian and Turner both looked like they were staring at a mutated koala bear.

ME: Is it that bad?
BRIAN: Um...who are you?
ME: Excuse me?
TURNER: Kevin, you look--uh--
ME: Formal?
BRIAN: F**k me.
ME: Huh?
TURNER: You look fantastic.
BRIAN: F**king fantastic. F**k me now, please.
TURNER: Very chic. Very fantastic.
ME: I get it. I'm the Flame--so to speak.

Don't be so surprised, kids. I'm Portuguese. Portuguese guys pull off formal wear well. I just didn't know I could pull it off that well.

Think I'm exaggerating?

BRIAN: Kevin, want to hang out tonight?
ME: I have the black tie tonight, Brian. Remember?
BRIAN: How about after you get done? I'll be up.
TURNER: Screw that. Come hang out with me.
BRIAN: What about Paye?
TURNER: Screw Paye! He looks like Wes Bentley without the awkwardness!
BRIAN: Screw you! You're taken.

An hour later I got a text from Scooter requesting a picture of me in the tuxedo and then a few pictures after that of me slowly removing the tuxedo seductively.

ME: Wow, tonight should be a good night.

We arrived at the party at 8pm sharp. Dwight looked a little more rumpled than I did, which I think was intentional. His disdain for the event was made clear on the way there.

DWIGHT: I don't want to impress anyone. In fact, if possible, I'd like to de-press people.
ME: Don't worry, Dwight. You're excellent at depressing people.
DWIGHT: Keep that biting wit up, you'll need it.

The first person I saw upon arriving at the outdoor court where the gala was being held was Mrs. Brown. I have an incredible admiration for people ballsy enough to throw outdoor events. Usually the nicer you want to make it, the more impossible it is to salvage if the weather sucks.

MRS. BROWN: There's my favorite guy--and my son.
ME: Be nice, Mrs. Brown. Dwight's the reason I'm here.
DWIGHT: That and I promised him free canape.
MRS. BROWN: Dwight hates coming here. Every year he threatens not to show up and every year I threaten to show him the video of him being born when he least expects it.
DWIGHT: One year I held out until she set up a projector outside the house and told me she was going to screen my birth like a drive-in movie for all of the east side.
MRS. BROWN: A mother must negotiate. Go grab your seats boys. The sooner you get to mingling the better.

The party was filled with two kinds of people--Liberal society matrons and their polished gay sons. I could only find a handful of straight guys, and most of them were servers.

ME: I can't believe I've gone from Pride to this.
DWIGHT: Oh, beware. These boys have much sharper teeth than your average gays.
VOICE: You can say that again.

Dwight and I turned around to see a handsome, young 20's looking guy approach us.

RICH GAY: Dwight, I don't believe I've met your friend.
DWIGHT: I just flew him in from the Appalachia's. He's the champion possum skinner of his region.
RICH GAY: Now, now.
ME: No, he's being serious. Although I did almost lose the title this year when I skinned a possum that wasn't technically dead yet.
RICH GAY: I can't even imagine the controversy.
ME: I couldn't show my face in the general store for weeks.
RICH GAY: He's clever, Dwight. Good going.
DWIGHT: Thank you, Steven.
RICH GAY/STEVEN: Usually Dwight just shows up by himself.

I felt the snappy aura of Mrs. Brown behind me.

MRS. BROWN: I finally convinced him this year to take a date. I told him that try as he might, he bears absolutely no resemblance to Gatsby.
DWIGHT: How would you know, Mother? You don't read a book unless Hilary or Barack is on the cover.
MRS. BROWN: As opposed to your swastika-ed reading list--
DWIGHT: For the last time, Mother: Guliani's book does not have a swastika on--
ME: Where's this canape I keep hearing so much about?
STEVEN: I'll lead you to it.

Steven led me to a refreshment table while Mrs. Brown and Dwight bantered back and forth about political books and who the bigger Anti-Christ is--Condoleeza Rice or Al Franken.

STEVEN: I'm amazed somebody finally talked the Stag Fag into opening his heart.
ME: The Stag Fag?
STEVEN: It's our term of endearment for Dwight.
ME: Sounds very endearing, and Dwight and I are friends--very close friends.
STEVEN: So I better keep the bashing to a minimum.
ME: It would be a good idea.
STEVEN: Don't get me wrong, I admire Dwight. Did you meet him at that little shindig they had in Providence last weekend?
ME: You mean Pride?
STEVEN: Yeah that.

I detected and noted a tone of disdain.

STEVEN: You'll find that the guys here tonight aren't really into that whole scene. Shirtless E addicts frolicking from club to club, making out with complete strangers, and making complete fools of themselves the entire time. We're a little bit more refined here.

I wasn't actually opposed to that idea, even though I was utterly repulsed by the fact that I was hanging out with a gay version of Scrooge McDuck.

If the other boys here were of a higher quality of homosexual, that might not be a bad thing. When I returned to the table, I shared my observation with Dwight.

DWIGHT: Trust me, they're just as bad as regular gays.
ME: At least they're intelligent. Part of me wishes I was born in another century. I mean, think of Oscar Wilde. He got laid like crazy by all kinds of hot guys, and it wasn't because he was cute--I mean, for godsakes, they had Stephen Frey play him in the movie!

(Not that I don't find Stephen Frey incredibly sexy...)

http://readingmachine.co.il/home/contribs/stephen_fry/steven-frey.jpg

Grrrrowwl!

DWIGHT: So you wish you had been born during a time when it was legal to persecute someone for being gay, and as an example, you mention someone who actually was persecuted for being gay.
ME: I just think it would be nice if being gay was still associated with being cultured, and intelligent, and sophisticated. The recognized gay icon has gone from being a guy like Oscar Wilde to Jack from Will and Grace.

We would have kept this up but boys started coming to the table to find out who Dwight's supposedly funny and charming date was (humble? Yes, I am).

DAVIS: Dwight, you and your date will have to come to the after-party on the boat.
DWIGHT: You mean the one I wasn't invited to last year?
DAVIS: You knew about that?
ME: He's gay. He knows more about what happened at the parties he wasn't invited to than the ones he was.
DAVIS: That sounds like it came straight off a Dorothy Parker calendar. So, what do you boys say?
DWIGHT: I say nay, but Kevin can go if he wants to.
DAVIS: And I hope he will.

Following the boat-owning Davis was Trevor--

TREVOR: You do theater? That's terrific. I dabbled in theater in high school, but that was enough for me.

I hate when people say "dabbled in theater" as if theater is an Hors d'Oeuvre made of mushroom and cilantro that you bite into but only begrudgingly swallow.

ME: And what do you do now?
TREVOR: I'm a journalism major.
ME: Oh, I dabbled a journalist in college--that was enough for me.

--And then Carter--

CARTER: Where did you meet Dwight?
ME: Prison.

--And that was that. Despite my best efforts, the rich gays seemed intrigued. Dwight looked merely exhausted.

DWIGHT: You're only fueling their interest you know.
ME: So what? I like people who underestimate me.
DWIGHT: By the way, this might bring back some awkwardness from last weekend, but I did want to mention that you look absolutely amazing tonight.
ME: Awww...In the words of Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman--and I'm definitely misquoting--'Don't try so hard, I'm a sure thing.'

After a trip to the men's room--which took me twenty minutes to find since it was inside the building next to the event (a building that was clearly designed by whomever did the set for the cult movie Labrynth) I ran into Steven and Davis.

STEVEN: Enjoying the party so far, Kevin?
ME: I'm having a great time.
DAVIS: I'm surprised. All you've done all night is sit at the table with Dwight while he works on his Eeyore impression.
ME: I'm surprised you boys are so casual when it comes to insulting someone to their date.
STEVEN: Ohh, Dwight knows how we feel about him, and the feeling is mutual, but you--You, we're still feeling out.
ME: Question, if you in fact like me, when exactly would I be switched with a perky robot version of myself and given a house in Stepford?

The boys laughed at that and I couldn't help but smile.

STEVEN: Throw whatever little barbs at us you want, Kevin, but the truth is, you're enticed by us, aren't you?
ME: I wouldn't say enticed, but I do enjoy a good back-and-forth.

A good back-and-forth? If I keep talking like this I might have to move to Connecticut and take up golf.

DAVIS: So come to the after-party then.
ME: I don't know. Dwight probably won't be up for--
STEVEN: Oh God, don't bring Dwight.
ME: Wasn't he invited?
DAVIS: Yes, but only because we knew he wouldn't come.
STEVEN: And we couldn't invite you without inviting him.
ME: Guys, I know he can be a little bit of a downer sometimes, but I don't like cliques or clique-y people, so if that's how you guys are--
STEVEN: It's not so much his attitude. We just don't like surrounding ourselves with guys we don't want to f**k.

Um...Did that just bypass the silver spoon and come out of his mouth?

ME: Excuse me?
DAVIS: Oh, come on. You can be nice about it all you want, but you have to admit, he's not exactly a looker.
STEVEN: Pasty skin, bit of a belly--
DAVIS: Beady eyes--
ME: His eyes are beady!
STEVEN: All that coupled with his gleaming personality, and I'd rather shag an oak tree.
ME: What happened to being above all that nasty gay shallowness?
STEVEN: Even the Greeks appreciated beauty first and foremost, Kevin.
ME: What do you know about Greeks? They used to have sex in large public bathrooms--they were the skanks of the Western world. And their idea of beauty is completely different than--
STEVEN: What's wrong with a shag in a public bathroom?

He and Davis cackled at that, and I thought--

Okay, that's it.

ME: First off, you're not British, you're just gay, so don't say 'shag.' Secondly, I think Dwight is sexier than everyone I've met here tonight aside from being three times as personable as any of you. Thirdly, I appreciate guys with candor, so in that spirit let me be candid myself and say that you, Steven, have bad teeth--stained, crooked, Crypt-keeper-esque I would say. Davis, you're in no position to comment on eyes, since one of yours was clearly lazy at some point and still maintains a bit of a drag. If you happen to talk to Carter or Trevor, since I'm sure they share your opinion of my date, please let them know that one of them has breath so bad I'm surprised they still have lips and the other had sweat stains under their arms and a clearly receeding hairline--they'll know which is which.

Dabble in that, motherf**kers.

Yes, I know I sunk to their level, but where else are you supposed to go when you need to beat someone at their own game.

I ran into Mrs. Brown on my way back to the table, and I was still fuming.

MRS. BROWN: The boys have gotten to you, haven't they?
ME: They're the most obnoxious group of people I've ever met.
MRS. BROWN: I know, they're all pricks.
ME: So why do you throw this stupid party and make Davis come here to be berated by these people?
MRS. BROWN: I guess I still cling to the party's original goal.
ME: Which was?
MRS. BROWN: Kevin, look around. Do you notice anything about tonight?
ME: It's all gays and their mothers. As a matter of fact, it's like a Mother and Son Dance at a musical theater academy.
MRS. BROWN: Exactly. That's pretty much what I was going for.

Huh?

MRS. BROWN: None of us here will ever get to see our sons walk down an aisle with their new bride on their arm. Not the way we'd imagined it when they were growing up anyway. Not in a big church with a priest and the frivolities of religion hanging in the air. Many of us may never have grandchildren. We won't get the same big events that mothers of straight sons get.
ME: This is borderline pathetic if you're going where I think you're going.
MRS. BROWN: I'm not. This isn't a substitute for us--Well, it is, but it's also a substitute for them. I could never think of an opportunity where I could get to honor my son. I mean, there's birthdays, but everyone gets that. I wanted something where I could mark the passing of his life and say 'Dwight, I'm so proud of you for having the courage to be who you are.' I wanted to let him know that I didn't give a damn if he ever got married or had kids or did anything the traditional way. I just wanted him to know that his mother loves him more than anything on this earth.

Wow...

ME: And all these people?

She smiled and surveyed the party as if taking in a panorama.

MRS. BROWN: People who feel the way I do. It's sad that the boys have gotten so jaded over the years. I guess that's just the way the world works. Dwight might be surprised to know how much they all have in common.
ME: I don't think Dwight has anything in common with these guys.
MRS. BROWN: Oh no? Why do you think they all are the way they are, Kevin? I know you tend to think that gay people should uphold that old-fashioned cleverness, but the truth is, your culture and your community adapts the way it does in order to survive. You used to be able to get by with being quiet and making snide comments in essays and plays, but now you can be loud, and opinionated, and shallow, and oh-my-God stupid! You have permission to be stupid if you want to be. Basically, you can be human. That, my darling, is freedom.

She gave me a kiss on the cheek and swept off in another direction. I walked back over to Dwight who was taking in another drink.

DWIGHT: Please tell me you want to blow this popsicle stand?
ME: I'm all for blowing popsicles, but not at the moment. Not without a dance.
DWIGHT: Great, let's dance and then ditch.
ME: Not with me, Dwight. You're going to dance with your mother.
DWIGHT: Kevin, the last time I checked, Hell was still relatively warm.
ME: Dwight, your mother may not be perfect, but she loves you, and this party is an expression of that. The least you can do is show a little appreciation. Who cares if everyone here is snide and catty? It's not about them. It's about you and your mom.
DWIGHT: My mom and I are the definition of snide and catty.
ME: Never too late to change that, you know.

I got him up and walked him a few feet in the direction of Mrs. Brown before he finally got the hint and walked over to himself. When I saw him ask her to dance, I could see that she was absolutely flabbergasted. Then, he held out his arm, she took it, and the two of them walked to the floor and danced.

FRIEND: Cue the f**king 80's sap music.
ME: Be nice.
FRIEND: And did you have fun walking around looking all sexy, skank?
ME: I did in fact, but...it gave me a new perspective about something.
FRIEND: Oh yeah, what's that?
ME: Okay, well, when I was a kid, I used to love Lois and Clark--
FRIEND: The Superman show? With Dean Cain and the pecs and--
ME: Right. Now, on the show, Lois Lane kissed Superman way before she ever knew that Superman was Clark Kent, but the thing was, even though she was kissing the same person, to me, as a kid, it never felt like she was kissing Clark Kent--
FRIEND: --Because she didn't know she was kissing Clark Kent?
ME: Right. I remember waiting two years until she finally knew kissed Clark and chose him over Superman, but what I never understood was--Why didn't he just tell her? Why did he just say 'Hey Lois, I'm Superman. You love him so that means you love me too! Isn't it great?'
FRIEND: He didn't tell her because Superman wasn't him. He wanted her to love simple, sweet Clark Kent with the glasses and the old suit and the pecs, oh God, the pecs--
ME: Exactly. Somehow it didn't count that she loved Superman, because every woman would love Superman. Somehow it only counted if she loved Clark more. That's how I felt tonight at the party. For one night I got to be Superman, and what I realized was, these guys would never love Kevin Broccoli--they couldn't. They don't have it in them. They wouldn't love me if they knew all the flaws and the cracks, if they saw me at 7am when I first wake up, or when I'm lounging around in nothing but sweats and a t-shirt.
FRIEND: And how did you feel after you had that revelation?
ME: I felt good.
FRIEND: Really?
ME: Yeah, I mean...isn't it good to know what it's going to take to know that you've found the right person?
FRIEND: It's going to take them taking off your glasses and replacing them with new fierce designer sunglasses?
ME: It's going to take them loving Clark Kent.
FRIEND: Aww...I need to purge.

I was so exhausted after the gala. For some reason, formal events tire me out. God help me if I ever become a pageant queen.

When I got home I had two texts on my phone, and five dates left until this would all be over.

TEXT FROM CHARLIE: Want to come over--I sleep better with you here :O)
TEXT FROM JESSE: Come cuddle with me. I've got ice cream and The Breakfast Club.

Sometimes it's not just waiting for someone to find Clark Kent. Sometimes it's about knowing how to find him yourself.

Date #94: Once Upon a Pride

Once upon a time at Pride...

Actually, wait--we need to start at the Cheesecake Factory where the boys and I were having a pre-Pride dinner.

I was confessing my belief that "the one" might just be at the festivities the following night.

ME: There's a good chance, right? Every gay guy in the tri-state area is going to be there.
TURNER: I bet if we all spread out we could find you Mr. Right by the time the parade is done.
BRIAN: I am not S.W.A.T.'ing Pride just to find Kevin a boyfriend. I'll be too busy trying to find myself a boyfriend.
ME: Spoken like a true gay friend.
NICK: The homo stands alone.

DWIGHT: We should help. We've all been immortalized thanks to this little blog of his. It's fitting that we find him the perfect guy.
SCOOTER: Maybe I could find him the perfect guy. I don't know about the rest of you.
BRIAN: Spoken by someone whose attempted this already and failed.
SCOOTER: That was different. I had limited options before, but if I can choose from everybody at Pride--
TURNER: Kevin, I could spot a match for you in a second.
NICK: Who are you kidding? You wound up with the dance instructor.
BRIAN: Someone shouldn’t be talking—

ALL: Christopher—cough cough—Christopher.

NICK: Keep on coughing until someone gets cut.
ME: All right, guys. Let's not have a fight. This place is semi-classy.

Scooter got a gleaming look in his eye.

SCOOTER: I think there's only one way to settle this.
ME: Please do not make this a wager.
SCOOTER: Whoever finds Kevin's 'one' by the end of the night--
BRIAN: Buys dinner for all of us a week from today right here at this lovely over-priced establishment.
ME: That's all my true love is worth? Dinner for five?
NICK: Don't complain. You're the one who's going to get the most out of this.
ME: I appreciate it guys, but I already kind of have a date for Pride.
ALL: Who?
ME: Charlie.

Groans all around. Miles of groans. Decades of groans.

Okay, I guess we're going to have to backtrack even more.

(P.S. This entry is going to include a lot of references to past dates, so if you don't know who I'm talking about, don't just post 'Who is this? Is he important? I don't remember him.' in the comment zone. Go back and do some reading, kids. I'll try to put little refreshers here and there to help out though.)

Meanwhile, at Charlie's--

CHARLIE: I miss you.
ME: Charlie--
CHARLIE: I'm not saying I want a relationship. I'm not ready for that right now, and I don't think you are either--
ME: Whoa, I'm ready--
CHARLIE: I just...I'd like to still see each other. I miss having you around.

The truth is, I really miss him, too.

ME: Maybe we can work something out.
CHARLIE: Like shared custody? I can see you on the weekends? We’ll go to the zoo?
ME: No, I mean--We can try hanging out again and see how it goes.
CHARLIE: Where would you want it to go?
ME: I don't know--a friendship would be nice, and then--
CHARLIE: Kevin, I've seen your penis...in the morning...I've seen morning penis. Friendship might be a little rough.
ME: That's not true! Lots of guys have seen my penis that I'm friends with...Um...wait that's...Oh, screw it. Who cares? And what's wrong with my penis in the morning?
CHARLIE: All right, enough about penis. What are you doing for Pride?

And that's how Charlie became my Pride date...sort of.

BRIAN: What do you mean 'sort of'?
ME: He's going with a posse, but we're going to hang out a little bit that night.
TURNER: But that doesn't mean we can't try fixing you up throughout the night, right?
ME: I guess not, just not right in front of him. I don't want to be tacky like that. Plus I have some other friends who are in town that wanted to hang out.
SCOOTER: We'll be--what's the word--
DWIGHT: Discreet?
SCOOTER: Right.
BRIAN: You know, I would have bet that you wouldn't have been able to recall the word 'discreet.'

So the next night, I was at the parade with Charlie and some of his friends kicking off the Pride festivities when Nick called me.

ME: Nick?
NICK: Where are you?
ME: I'm at the parade.
NICK: Me, too. Oh wait, I see you! Come across the street.
ME: Now? The parade's going on!
NICK: Just cut across. I have someone I want you to meet.

Against my better judgment, I raced across the street--along the way I almost wound up getting recruited by some sort of lesbian marching band--and met up with Nick and his...um...submission.

NICK: Kev, this is Richie.

Richie was a big guy. Broad shoulders, big arms--and he was wearing a black t-shirt that was almost bursting off of him. (I'm such a sucker for guys who can fill out a black t-shirt.)

He was watching the parade so I leaned over to Nick and whispered--

ME: Thank you.
NICK: Merry Pride, baby.

Richie turned around and we were formally introduced. Instantly, I could tell something was wrong. We exchanged a few words, and then I excused myself--partly because I didn't want to ditch Charlie and partly because the tension was becoming a little too much for me.

I texted Nick once I was back across the street.

TEXT FROM ME: Um...problem?
TEXT FROM NICK: I didn't know.
TEXT FROM ME: Didn't know what?
TEXT FROM NICK: He only likes black guys.
TEXT FROM ME: But he's white.
TEXT FROM NICK: That's why I didn't know. He thought you were going to be black.
TEXT FROM ME: So he's a white guy racist against white guys?
TEXT FROM NICK: Yup.
TEXT FROMO ME: Asshole.
TEXT FROM NICK: I know…Is it bad that I still think he's hot?
TEXT FROM ME: No, I do, too.

Hey, I'm allowed to be attracted! I'm the one being discriminated against here.

Before beginning the long night of dancing and debauchery, Charlie and I decided to get some pizza at Antonio's. I was especially happy since they had the bacon, chicken, and ranch that's so good I usually have to eat it in private in case I make orgasmic noises during consumption.

Because parking and covers were all jacked up (what a way to say 'I love the gays'--by milking us dry) I parked in the only free spot I could find--across town--literally--past the highway overpass. Charlie walked back with me to the block party at D.L.

ME: So have you been dating anyone?
CHARLIE: Nah, most of the gay guys in this town--
ME: You don't even need to finish that sentence.
CHARLIE: How about you? Have you been dating around?
ME: Oh, just the usual...

(The usual forty-something dates.)

CHARLIE: The last time I hung out with a guy he put his hand on my crotch and I kicked him out so I could shower five times in a row.

This made me smile. I mean, come on, what's better than knowing your ex isn't having any sex? Did I just call him my "ex"? That's weird. I mean...

ME: Now, if one of us gets hit on or something tonight...
CHARLIE: I'm just here to dance and have fun.
ME: Me too, and potentially meet my soulmate.
CHARLIE: Haha, you're funny.
ME: Haha, yeah...I am.

Hey, why not have faith? I grew up on Trick goddammit. I believe in gay romantic comedy and go-go boys who suddenly want to settle down with musical-theater loving dorks!

The first person I saw at the block party was Dwight. I hugged him--which turned into a long hug since I could barely move. The place was insanely crowded.

ME: Dwight, I'd introduce you to Charlie but he went to the bar to get a drink and now I'm not sure I'm ever going to see him again.
DWIGHT: Yeah, this crowd is nuts.
ME: If by nuts you mean 'I think someone might be giving me a physical exam right now' then yeah, definitely nuts.
DWIGHT: Kevin, I figured out who your perfect guy is.
ME: He's not racist and hot, is he? Because that was Nick's entry.
DWIGHT: No, I don't need you to meet anybody. You already know him.
ME: I do?
DWIGHT: It's me, Kevin. I'm your guy.

Oh Christ...

I would have taken a step back, but I couldn’t. Dwight and I were literally face-to-face which made this even more uncomfortable.

ME: Dwight, I know what you're going to say--
DWIGHT: I don't think you do, actually. There's a lot I haven't told you.
ME: Dwight, we'd be an awful couple. We would never gel.
DWIGHT: We gel great as friends.
ME: Good friends don't always make good anything else.
DWIGHT: Kevin, I'm leaving soon.

Na-who-what-what?

ME: Leaving? Leaving to go where?
DWIGHT: I'm going to grad school in the fall--Syracuse.
ME: And you were going to tell me that when?
DWIGHT: I hadn't made up my mind yet, but...I thought maybe if I didn't tell you that you would be more inclined...
ME: Inclined to what? Fall for you? Great, so you don't tell me you're going away because you know I have a huge fear of abandonment, so instead you spring it on me as a way to try and coerce me to do it anyway!
DWIGHT: No, if you fell for me, I was going to stay.
ME: Don't put that on me, Dwight. That's not fair.
DWIGHT: I know it's not, but it's how it is. If you want me to stay, I'll stay.
ME: I want you to stay, but I can't ask you to stay, because I don't have those feelings for you, Dwight. I'm sorry.

On the word 'sorry' my voice cracked. It suddenly became very apparent to me that I was turning down an awesome guy, maybe the perfect guy--definitely the guy who will make you soup when you're sick and surprise you on your birthday with tickets to some play he really doesn't want to see but plans on going to anyway because it'll make you happy.

...And yet.

ME: I'm sorry that for some reason the wiring in my brain refuses to allow me to do something healthy for myself right now, but that doesn't change the fact that I can't.

With that, I pushed through the crowd and made my way back to Charlie.

(And yes, I’m aware that what I said was the stupidest sentence ever constructed by anyone who isn’t a chimp pointing out letters as she’s being taught to speak by scientists.)

I bumped right into Charlie as I was fleeing.

CHARLIE: Hey, you okay?
ME: It's just a little claustrophobic here. You want to try MB?
CHARLIE: Sure.

On the way to MB, I kept running into people--which is funny, seeing as how MB is merely across the street from the DL.

RANDOM PERSON: Kevin?
ME: Um, hi...
RANDOM PERSON: Do you not--
ME: Oh my God!

IT WAS BIG BAG GUY! AND I COULDN'T REMEMBER HIS NAME!!! AND I CLEARLY COULDN'T CALL HIM 'BIG BAG GUY'! AND I SAID “OH MY GOD” LIKE AN IDIOT! WHY AM I STILL TYPING IN CAPITAL LETTERS? COVER, KEVIN, COVER!

ME: Hey, what's up?
BBG: Nothing much. Haven't talked to you in awhile.

Oh dear God, he even had the bag with him. Wait, this was a new bag. A gayer bag. It had tassles.

ME: I know, how have you been?
BBG: Good. Just you know...craziness.

Crazy bag person, what?

As if sent from the gods, Scooter chose that moment to appear.

SCOOTER: There's the man of the hour.
ME: Scooter! There you are! I’ve missed you. This is…um…
SCOOTER: How you doing, Chuck? And I also already know Ricky.

Ricky! Wow, did I ever know his name? Because that still doesn't ring a bell.

Scooter grabbed me in a headlock and whispered in my ear.

SCOOTER: I've got a surprise for you.
ME: Please tell me Bag Boy isn't your submission into this sick little contest that's already way out of control.
SCOOTER: Helllllls no. I just thought it might be fun to have a little blog reunion.

My heart fell into my ugly shoes.

ME: What are you talking about?
SCOOTER: Hey, we already got two of your previous entries.
ME: You did not--
SCOOTER: Oh, but I did.

It was then I heard--

BBG: Hey Scooter, what's this reunion you e-mailed me about?

I...will...kill...him.

Sure enough, MB was full of them. Christopher passed me as I was going under the tent towards the bar. He actually grabbed me with two very sweaty hands and kissed me on the cheek.

CHRISTOPHER: Long time, no see, buddy.
ME: There's a reason for that, buddy.
CHRISTOPHER: What?
ME: Nothing.
CHRISTOPHER: I'm so drunk.
ME: Hot.
CHRISTOPHER: Want to see my new piercing?
ME: Where is it?
CHRISTOPHER: On my--
ME: Never mind then.

I saw Scooter disappear inside the club and I decided to go after him before he rounded up all the usual suspects and we had ourselves an I Love New York style special reunion.

On the way inside the actual club, I saw Roque (Twisted Mister) who got a tattoo that says “Bogart”—no clue there, 8th Grade Crush who was hanging out with another one of my 8th grade crushes--both of them gave me a dirty look, and of course, Allan.

ALLAN: Well, well, well. We have to stop running into each other like that.
ME: Unless one of us is driving a fast-moving motor vehicle.
ALLAN: I guess it wouldn't be Gay Day without some witty repartee.

I looked behind him and saw Travis and Teddy.

ME: I see the whole gang's here.
ALLAN: Just like old times.
ME: So you won't be getting laid tonight then?
ALLAN: Maybe not, but I'm sure you will. Everyone here seems to know you.
ME: You think this is bad? I can't walk down the street in Montreal.
ALLAN: Why? The tips aren't good enough?
ME: Where's Blake? Shouldn't he be alternating between puking on you and giving you head?
ALLAN: He's upstairs talking to some 12-year-old.
ME: Some things never change. I guess I'll be making a phone call to his fiancee.
ALLAN: Oh, that's over with. She came home one day and caught him with her best gay friend.
ME: Shut up!
ALLAN: Don't believe me? Ask Teddy.
ME: Why would I--Teddy was the—Oh my--God, this state is too small.

I made my way upstairs to find Scooter, and ended up running into Turner and Paye on the third floor.

TURNER: Kevin! Perfect timing. I've got my guy all set for you.
ME: Tell me you're not giving me Paye. I've had enough insanity for one night.
PAYE: I think he's got something else in mind. He just sent some cute little Southern boy to the bathroom.
ME: Southern boy?

It was then that I heard a voice behind me.

VOICE: Happy Pride, hot stuff.

I turned around to see Jesse--looking cuter than he's looked as of yet, and that's saying something.

He came up to me and gave me a kiss, then put his arm around my waist.

JESSE: So I'm assuming this was planned because your friend here called me up and told me I had to meet him on the third floor of MB at 11:30pm.
ME: Turner--
TURNER: I need to borrow my friend Kevin for a second. Paye entertain the cute Southern boy.

Jesse brought me over to the window looking out on the festivities below.

TURNER: He's amazing. You need to not screw this up.
ME: I'm aware he's amazing, but so is Charlie.
TURNER: So it's between him and Charlie?
ME: No--it's not between anyone and anyone.
TURNER: How many more home runs do you think you're going to hit, Kev?
ME: I don't know.
TURNER: All I'm saying is, at some point you got to run for home base.
ME: Are you actually using baseball analogies with me right now?
TURNER: I can switch to football if you want.
ME: Let's go back to the bar, Madden.

Turner and Paye took off after a few minutes to go dance, leaving me with the Boy Wonder.

ME: What's that on your arm?
JESSE: I was practicing an illustration for this book I'm writing.
ME: I didn't even know you were into writing?
JESSE: Yeah, I write kids books. Fairy tale stuff.
ME: And you illustrate them yourself?
JESSE: Yup. Right now I'm working on the first ever gay fairy tale.
ME: That should go over well with the toddlers.
JESSE: Hey, how many fairy tales did I have to listen to about girls and boys kissing? Kids are never too young to learn tolerance.
ME: Well, you'll have to write me a fairy tale one day. The story of a peasant boy looking for his prince.
JESSE: That sounds more like an adult film.
ME: Hey, I’ll take what I can get. Let's go dance.

I had just realized that my friends from out of town were probably here already. All this juggling was starting to get to me. I passed Scooter on the stairway.

SCOOTER: Broco!
ME: You're dead to me.
SCOOTER: Let me explain.
ME: I'm all exes--in case you haven't noticed.
SCOOTER: This is my submission.
ME: Which one is your submission?
SCOOTER: All of them. I'm betting that you've already passed up Mr. Right.
ME: And what makes you say that?

We were having this conversation as we worked out way through the crowd back outside. Jesse was a few people ahead of me.

SCOOTER: Because if I know you, you already found something good and let it go.
ME: So you and Turner have teamed up then?
SCOOTER: Huh?
ME: Forget about it.
SCOOTER: I just think there might be somebody here who deserves a second try.

As he said that, we made it outside and I saw Charlie standing by the bar.

ME: You might be right about that.

I had lost Jesse somewhere in the crowd, so I approached Charlie only to find that Brian was already there.

BRIAN: Hey there.
ME: Hey.
CHARLIE: Your friend Brian and I were just talking.
ME: That’s cool. I still haven’t found my out of town friends.
CHARLIE: I don’t know how you’d find anybody here. I think one of the guys I came with is in the corner keeled over from drinking too much. I’ll be right back.

He took off towards his friend.

ME: Let me guess: Charlie is your submission.
BRIAN: You got it.
ME: Because you actually think we’d be good together, or because that was the safest bet?
BRIAN: Both.
ME: I do really like him.
BRIAN: I think you more than like him. I think you lurve him, Woody.

Just maybe I…

But then the music started playing a song I knew, and instead of letting me finish my statement, Brian grabbed me and pulled me out onto the dance floor where after a short while I found my two out-of-town friends and spent the rest of the evening dancing and looking around for Jesse.

Charlie joined us and danced along, and all I could wonder was: Is this it? Is he really the one? Should I just quit now and let the fairy tale end happily? Standing here, dancing amongst my friends, a beautiful night, a city full of gays? Does it get any better than this?

FRIEND: With six dates to go? Are you f**king crazy?
ME: You know, I looked around at everybody at the club that night, and all I could think was…I’m not really drawn to anybody here and none of them were drawn to me, obviously. Nobody even asked me to dance all night. Am I just chemically dead or something?
FRIEND: No, you’re probably just exhausted. You’ve dated more in a year than I…Well, I’ve never been on an actual date, so I don’t know where I was going with that.
ME: I wish I could have said good-bye to Jesse. He probably went home with some cute boy from Massachusetts who doesn’t conduct weird gay dating social experiments.
FRIEND: Well, I usually never make this promise, but I can almost guarantee he wasn’t one of the boys in my bed last night.
ME: Thank you, sweetie.

When I woke up the next day, I had a voicemail.

Once upon a time, there was a poor lonely prince named Kevin who was looking for the perfect boy to sweep him off his feet. The only problem was that every boy he met seemed to not see him for who he was. They all thought he was this or that, and they’d say “Prince Kevin, you’re this or that” but none of them understood just who he was or how wonderful he could be. Then one day another Prince rode into town, and his name was Prince Jesse. He walked up to Prince Kevin and kissed him, right out on the moat, in front of the whole kingdom, because he saw him for who he really was, and he had him climb up on his horse and the two of them rode off together and lived happily ever after.

There’s your fairy tale, Kev. Happy Pride.

I walked down the stairs and into the kitchen.

CHARLIE: Hey, how’d you sleep last night?
ME: Fine, thanks.
CHARLIE: You want breakfast?
ME: Sure.

Funny how fairy tales never have twist endings.

Date #93: Ghetto Superstar

Now that I'm getting closer to Date #100, it seems people are a little more interested in going out with me.

BRIAN: I'm going to be Date #100, right?

Brian popped the semi-question at the N.C. and seemed shocked at how shocked I was that one of my best friends suddenly has an interest in going out on a date with me.

ME: You want to go out on a date with me?
BRIAN: Oh, it won't be like a real date. It'll be celebratory of your completing the blog.
ME: So it'll be like a 'Hey, clearly I failed at finding someone since I'm on a date with someone who isn't even remotely attracted to me' kind of a date?
BRIAN: Kevin, you're on what now? Ninety-one--
ME: Ninety-two.
BRIAN: Clearly, you need to find a way to bring this to a close without the closing being about finding the perfect guy.
ME: Brian, I believe that life is like television. In television, some things don't even get cleared up until the very last episode. So I am going to use every single date to its fullest.
BRIAN: But I want to be Date #100!
ME: Well unfortunately the most you could have looked forward to was a ceremonial date somewhere in the 70's, but that time has come and gone.

Brian looked a little perturbed at first, and then opened up his Murse and took out a small packet of papers.

BRIAN: Then you might want to make use of these.

He dropped them in front of me. They looked like printed out e-mails.

BRIAN: They're printed out e-mails.

Well, there you go.

ME: From who?
BRIAN: People who have found me on myspace and facebook and would like to try their luck at the newest reality show about to be off the air--Find Kevin a Boyfriend.
ME: There must be thirty e-mails here.
BRIAN: I printed out a few of them just to be funny, but then they kept coming in, and I was low on paper.
ME: This is insane. Where are all these people coming from? I've been doing the blog all year.
BRIAN: It seems many of them find you sweet, funny, and honest--Don't ask me where they get that from. I think some of them may have you confused with another spinster blogger.

I can't believe it. Eight dates left and all of a sudden people are coming out of the woodwork. Unless...

ME: Do you think these people actually think they'd be a good match for me, or do they just want the honor of closing out the blog?
BRIAN: From reading most of those, I'd say it's about sixty-forty in favor of closing out the blog, but forty percent of all that isn't bad.

He's got a good point. Then hey, why not have a little fun?

ME: Okay, here's what I'm going to do. I'm going to go through all of these, and randomly pick one of the guys who legitimately wants to go on a date with me, just to see what happens.
BRIAN: Shouldn't you be picking with a little more--
ME: A little more what? I've done everything I can think of to try and find someone who'd be a good match for me, and so far, I'm still single. So why not just throw a prayer up in the air and see if I get an answer.
BRIAN: A prayer up in the air? Are you an alcoholic now?
ME: Not yet, but talk to me in about six more dates.

I gathered some friends together for a "Pick Kevin's Date" party. Dwight, Scooter, and Turner came armed with liquor (for them) and tortilla chips (for me).

DWIGHT: I like this guy. Please tell Kevin that I jerk off to his blog. Thinking about Scooter just--
SCOOTER: Hey, can I have that one?
TURNER: Sadly, over four of these so far have been love letters to Scooter, and I've only read seven.
ME: Terrific. I've managed to spend a year of my life finding a boyfriend for Scooter.
SCOOTER: Can we stop talking about Scooter like he's not in the room? Thank you.
DWIGHT: Here's one for you, Kev. You seem like a really sweet guy. I think we could have a great connection. I'd love to take you out on a date. Signed, Billy.
ME: He sounds nice.
SCOOTER: He sounds ugly.
TURNER: Scooter!
SCOOTER: Hot guys don't talk like that.
ME: Don't be ridiculous.
SCOOTER: I don't talk like that.
ME: All the more reason to look into it.
SCOOTER: I know a loser when I hear one.
ME: He doesn't sound like a loser at all.
DWIGHT: Sorry, but I kind of held back on that one. P.S. I named my new pug after you. He's called Mr. B.

Let's pause for a second.

ME: Moving on!

I had Brian forward me the rest of his e-mails so we had a good amount to choose from, plus the ones Scooter got on his blog, and the ones I've gotten over the past few months.

Finally, I came upon one that I really liked.

ME: Guys, this one sounds nice. Hey Kevin, I'm just a regular guy looking for another regular guy. I wish I could say I'm expecting wonders, but I've always been a bit on the cynical side and your blog has shown me that the pickings out there are slim to say the least. That being said, you've also given me hope, because if there's cool guys like you out there, then maybe there's hope for all of us. If you ever want to get coffee or something, just e-mail me back or call me. My number is...
TURNER: Sounds decent.
DWIGHT: Sounds normal.
SCOOTER: I like his sentence structure.

We all looked at him.

SCOOTER: What I do?

I contemplated writing down the guy's e-mail address under the headline "(Not So) Random Pick."

ME: He's definitely legitimate. Doesn't sound like he's in it for the date number.
DWIGHT: Speaking of which, why aren't I Date #100?
SCOOTER: I was going to ask the same thing.
ME: Are you two serious? What is with everyone wanting to be Date #100? It's not like you get a prize at the end of it.
DWIGHT: I just think it would be cool, that's all.
SCOOTER: Besides, don't you want to get laid once you hit 100?
TURNER: Scooter, knock it off.
ME: Thank you, Turner.
TURNER: So I'm Date #100, right?

I called my mystery date (Anthony) after all the boys left that night.

ANTHONY: Yo, sup?
ME: Um...is this Anthony?
ANTHONY: Who wants to know?
ME: Uh...this is Kevin...from the blog.
ANTHONY: Shut the f**k up.
ME: I would but, I was going to ask you if you wanted to hang out sometime.
ANTHONY: Are you for real?
ME: Oh, I'm...mad for real.
ANTHONY: No shit! What's good, man?

Did I just say 'mad for real'?

ANTHONY: Cool, cool. Where you wanna go?

We made tentative plans, but as soon as I got off the phone I went back to his e-mail to see if I could spot whether or not I'd just agreed to go out with someone straight out of Compton.

NICK: You're going out on a date with a wannabe?
ME: Of course I am.

Nick had agreed to hang out with me at Starbucks before the date after some discoveries I made on myspace about Anthony.

Anthony is 25 from North Attleboro, Mass. All of his myspace photos show him in a wifebeater and a backwards baseball cap--wait, sorry, that's not true. One of his photos shows him with the cap turned forwards--maybe to spice things up.

His tagline is "If You Ain't Busy Living..." Then you're busy being gay? Loving Judy? What are you busy doing when you're from NORTH ATTLEBORO?

NICK: Not busy dying, that's for damn sure.
ME: Unless you're dying of boredom.
NICK: Don't hate the North Attleboro...uh...ites.
ME: I'm not, it's just...This guy seemed so normal.
NICK: Maybe he is. Give him a chance.
ME: That chance went out the window with 'What's good?'
NICK: So why not just call it off? I'll give you a ride back home.
ME: Because I've never dated someone with...that type of personality. And I don't know, it might be interesting.
NICK: Kevin, you dated me.
ME: Yeah, but you don't do that whole--
NICK: That whole what? The poser 'black' thing?
ME: No, you just don't say 'What's good?'
NICK: If I ever say 'What's good?' admit me somewhere with beige walls.

Nick took off and Anthony showed up about ten minutes later. He had on a turtleneck, and for a second I thought maybe I had misjudged him.

Then he spoke.

ANTHONY: How's your boy, baby?
ME: Um, I don't have a--
ANTHONY: It's cool, it's cool.

The thing is, I'm pretty sure he wasn't even using the right terminology. I might have to call Ludacris and check up on him.

ME: So, do you want to eat dinner or--
ANTHONY: Nah, we got a party to go to.
ME: A party, huh? Whose party?
ANTHONY: A boy of mine's. Southside. Let's bounce.

Oh Christ...

I thought by southside he meant the south side of Providence, but apparently he meant South County, because we ended up by the beach at a party full of not-so-pretty-fly white guys.

ANTHONY: Ah shit.
ME: What is it? Is there an actual black person here?
ANTHONY: Huh?
ME: Never mind.
ANTHONY: This guy who stole my last boyfriend is here.
ME: Is there like a whole white ghetto gay underground that I don't know about?
ANTHONY: We might have to tussle, just so you know.
ME: You tussle. I'm going to find some potato salad.

I went inside to try and get ahold of one of my friends to let them know I was in Little Compton, not the famous one--when the phone rang.

ME: Hello?
JESSE: Hey hot stuff, what are you up to?
ME: I'm making a shank.
JESSE: I'm sorry?

I was crouched in the corner of this lovely kitchen when two boys walked in.

BOY #1: Yo, you Tony's bitch for the night?
ME: Um, I'm his date, yes.
BOY #1: You should get with a real man. Someone who can service that ass.
ME: Oh, don't worry. I just changed the oil last week.
JESSE: Kevin?
BOY #1: I'll be around if you change your mind.
BOY #2: Yeah, we'll both be around.

Then they high-fived and left.

JESSE: You there?
ME: I think I'm in a parallel universe.
JESSE: You're in Connecticut?
ME: Pretty much. Want to come rescue me?
JESSE: Sure, just give me directions.

Luckily, I had a good enough idea of where we were, and when it got too specific I asked one of the girls hanging out by the refrigerator to help out.

Anthony appeared shortly after I got off the phone with Jesse.

ME: Hey Anthony, I think I'm going to leave soon.
ANTHONY: You bouncing already?
ME: Yeah, I think I've got...something...stomach bug, or...whatever.
ANTHONY: That sucks, man. Hey, is this because Reg has been hitting on you? Cause he told me he's been giving you a hard time. I need to knock that bitch's lights out.
ME: Oh, don't do that on account of me.

Just then, Reg walked in.

REG: You talkin' shit, Tony?
ANTHONY: F**k yeah, I'm talking s**t. Stay the f**k away from my boy, Reg.
REG: Why? You afraid he's going to leave you for a real man?

Okay, anyone want to tell me when I stepped into a John Singleton film and why I'm playing the role of a white Nia Long?

Anthony picked up a bowl of chips and flung it at Reg. Reg ducked and came at Anthony. I was going to get between the two of them but on the off-chance either one had a butter knife in their pocket I didn't feel like getting cut. I ran out of the house and up the road until Jesse called me to tell me he was nearby. On the way back to Providence, I filled him in on the situation.

JESSE: Wow, you were almost killed...except not at all.
ME: Hey, things were getting crazy.
JESSE: Yeah, Lays were being thrown. That shit is crazy.
ME: All right, I get the point.

I was in a bad mood. All this dating, and I was still going on trainwrecks like that. I think Jesse picked up on my sulking.

JESSE: Want to play a fun game?
ME: Does it involve assisted suicide?
JESSE: No.
ME: Ben and Jerry's?
JESSE: Later, but not in the game.
ME: Tell me about it anyway.

JESSE'S EXPLANATION OF CAR KARAOKE: You pull up next to someone and blair a song out of your radio. The goal is to get the person in the car next to you to sing along to the song instead of just looking at you like you're crazy. You're not allowed to pick your song. That honor goes to someone else in the car.

JESSE: You can pick a song for me. I got my IPOD right there.

I went into the album marked "Embarrassing" and found the perfect song.

I'm going to make a change
For once in my life

JESSE: You did not just pick 'Man in the Mirror.'
ME: Hey, it was on your IPOD.
JESSE: Fine. Watch how it's done.

He pulled up to a car that had a twenty-something couple in it. The boy looked rather sullen but the girl was laughing about something. Jesse rolled the windows in the car down and pumped the volume up as loud as it would go.

The guy looked mad, but the girl just laughed, and after a second she was bouncing around and singing along with Jesse...

I'm starting with the man in the mirror
I'm asking him to change his ways

JESSE: Points for me. Your turn.
ME: Be gentle. I've had a rough night.
JESSE: Fine.
ME: And no Vanilla Ice.

A minute later we pulled up to a car full of what looked like teenage girls on their way to the club. I sang at the top of my lungs.

Hey, go big or go home, right?

Pour some sugar on me!
In the name of love
Pour some sugar on me!

Those girls had a four-part harmony by the time the light turned green.

Jesse and I laughed all the way back to my place. Before I got out of the car, I gave him a big hug.

ME: Thank you so much for coming to get me.
JESSE: Anytime.

We looked at each other for a second longer than we should have, but by then we were already kissing. I tried to forget that this was semi-Romeo/Juliet since he was still Allan's roommate, but another part of me only cared about kissing him...Okay, almost all of me only cared about kissing him.

FRIEND: Giggity giggity.
ME: It stopped with kissing.
FRIEND: Of course it did, because you don't value ratings.
ME: Because I value a potential connection with someone.
FRIEND: So you think this could be the one?
ME: He's at least 'a' one, which is fine with me.
FRIEND: Oooh, and we could have some sparks with the hoo hah.
ME: You mean Allan?
FRIEND: Yeah, that queen.
ME: There might be more sparks than that actually...

Just as I was about to head to bed, my phone rang. I thought it was Jesse being cute and calling to say he'd gotten home okay and such.

But that would be too easy.

CHARLIE: Hey, it's Charlie.
ME: Hey.
CHARLIE: Um, do you feel like coming over?

Well, this was bound to happen.

Date #92: Allan and the Alabama Assholes

I'm sure this has happened to everyone.

You're at a club and you notice a really hot guy with a group of--what you assume to be--his friends. There's usually a mix amongst the friends of hot, not-so-hot, and really not-so-hot. And undoubtedly the not-so-hot guy is always three things:

1) He's incredibly cocky.
2) He's all over the hot guy.
3) He's making sure nobody else is all over the hot guy or anywhere near the rest of his group.

It's almost strategic. The group shows up together, they drink together, they dance together--they form a United Front, if you will. The problem is everyone in the club is wondering the same thing:

Why would the hot guy hang around the cocky troll?

Having been a member of that group--granted, not the hot member, but still a member, let me explain it.

ME: The not-so-hot guy is usually the one pulling all the strings.
BRIAN: But why do the hot guys let that happen?

Brian and I were going over this little social situation at the N.C.

ME: Because usually the hot guys are messed up in some way.
BRIAN: Just like all hot guys.
ME: Pretty much.
BRIAN: So why can't we find a hot guy to push around?
ME: Because I don't think you should live your life pushing around someone more attractive than you just to make other people jealous.
BRIAN: Kevin, I live my whole life to make other people jealous.

We got around to this topic because of my confrontation with Allan. I guess I'm going to have to backtrack a little...

After I left a message on his answering machine, Allan called while I was at work the next day and offered to meet me at his place on the east side. Of course, it was that day that my entire head became congested and it seemed like my entire body was aching. Now I was going into battle a weakened man.

Part of me wanted to bring back up, and once I got there it seemed like an even better idea since the person who opened the door to his apartment was not Allan, but rather, a cute little Portuguese boy in a wet bathing suit.

CPB (Cute Portuguese Boy): Hi!

I detected an adorable Southern accent right away, but I was also immediately disgusted. The kid looked like he was about seventeen.

I see Allan's reached the age where he now employs houseboys. I wonder if he'll step out of some back room in a kimono and order little Opie here to bring us cocktails.

ME: Hi, is Allan around?
CPB: He'll be back. He ran to the store. Won't you come in?

I did. The apartment was very nice. Allan always did have good taste in just about everything. He believed in nice clothes, nice cars, cute friends--the works.

ME: I'm Kevin, by the way.
CPB: Oh, I know. Allan told me. I'm Jesse.
ME: Allan's--?
CPB/JESSE: His roommate. I just moved up here from Alabama.

An Alabama Slammer--argh, don't think that. He's a kid.

ME: So...you're in a bathing suit.
JESSE: Yeah, I went for a swim at my friend's pool and when you knocked I was in the shower so I just grabbed the swimsuit and put it on so I'd have something to answer the door in. People seem to frown upon answering the door in your birthday suit up here.
ME: As opposed to down there?
JESSE: Down where I'm from I make it a habit of answering the door naked.
ME: You must get a lot of gentlemen callers.
JESSE: From Blue Mountain? Tons.

Wow, he picked up a Glass Menagerie reference--and a rather loose one at that.

JESSE: I'll be out of your hair for tonight. I just need to get changed.

He went into his bedroom and I sat down on the couch. After a few minutes, he reappeared wearing a rather tight pair of a jeans and a cute little t-shirt. Everything about him was just...cute.

JESSE: Are you two planning to talk long?
ME: Well, I'm not.

My goal was to say what I needed to say and then get out of there. I had a date later that night that I was meeting for a drink (Sprite for me) at the new third floor of a local club. The atmosphere was laid back enough to have an actual conversation in, which was nice. Turner and Nick were going to meet me there in case the date didn't go well. Truthfully, I should have canceled the whole thing since I didn't feel well, but the dating must go on.

JESSE: Don't take this the wrong way, but you look a little piqued.
ME: I'm not feeling all that well.
JESSE: Can I get you something? Tylenol? Juice? Booze?
ME: Booze?
JESSE: My mother's favorite remedy.
ME: I'll pass, thanks.
JESSE: Aw, you're an abstainer. That's so neat.
ME: Neat? Did you just call me neat?
JESSE Neat is fantastic. You never meet neat people anymore.
ME: I'll give you that one.

Just then the door opened and Allan walked in. He saw me. I stood. It was something like two old friends and two people about to duel.

ME: Hi Allan.
ALLAN: Hello Kevin.

Jesse could probably sense the tension in the room. He grabbed a set of keys off the table near the door and made his exit.

JESSE: I'll see you at the club tonight, Allan.

With my luck, it was probably the same club I was meeting my date at.

JESSE: It was really neat meeting you, Kevin.
ME: It was neat meeting you too, Jesse.

The door shut. And then there were two.

I'm 18 all over again...

ALLAN: I'm fucking ugly, Kevin. I know it. You don't have to lie to me.
ME: Allan, I don't think that at all.
ALLAN: Then why does nobody like me?
ME: I'm sure lots of guys like you.
ALLAN: And what? They're all just hiding out somewhere? Afraid to show their feelings?

He had me there. We were at his apartment on his couch. Some old movie was playing on the television.

ALLAN: I just...I just wish someone would kiss me. Just for once in my life I wish someone would make me feel like I was worth that.

And I thought...What the hell, right? I mean, he wasn't a bad looking guy at all. Just compared to Travis and Teddy...Well, there really wasn't any comparison.

Still, he shouldn't feel ugly. That just wasn't right. So I leaned over and kissed him.

I meant to kiss him for a second, but he pulled me into him and before I knew it he was taking my shirt off...I pulled back and jumped off the couch.

ME: What are you doing?
ALLAN: You kissed me.
ME: You said you wanted someone to kiss you!
ALLAN: So what? That was a pity kiss?
ME: I didn't--I just wanted to--

He got up off the couch and looked at me with utter contempt.

ALLAN: What a fucking cocktease.

And with that, he went into his bedroom.

I remember sitting back down on the couch and watching the movie for another twenty minutes. That look...that look just tore right through you. You had value, and then all of a sudden...you didn't.

But that was when I was 18...

...And I'm all grown up now.

ALLAN: So I guess I thought it about it, and I can't really figure out what it is you think we need to talk about.
ME: It's not so much a talk I want to have. I'd just like to comment.
ALLAN: Comment? Go ahead.
ME: You're a fucking asshole.
ALLAN: Wow, quite a comment. Are we done?
ME: No. You're a fucking asshole who took advantage of an 18-year-old and I wonder, how does that make you feel?
ALLAN: I never took advantage of you. If I recall, you're the one who tried attacking me in my living room one night--
ME: After your little boo hoo hoo sob story about how you're so goddammed ugly. P.S, I probably should have just agreed with you.
ALLAN: I didn't have much self-esteem back then.
ME: Is that what you did? Used to your insecurities as a weapon?
ALLAN: No, that was always your best trick, Kevin.
ME: Fuck off.
ALLAN: Gladly.

He opened the door to his apartment.

ALLAN: I'd love to keep going with this--
ME: Oh, I don't need to. I've just wanted to tell you what I've thought of you for years.
ALLAN: Mission accomplished. I'm sure I'll see you around town.
ME: You'll see me tonight most likely.
ALLAN: Terrific. Just do me a favor and try not to bring down the overall look of the club with your rather bland appearance.

I walked out thinking...You're going to eat those f**king words, d**khead.

What can I say? I was mad.

When I arrived at the club, nobody was there to meet me.

Actually, that's not entirely true. Jesse was there with these two incredibly snotty-looking cavemen. He waved to me and walked over. The cavemen stayed where they were.

JESSE: We meet again.
ME: It must be fate.
JESSE: Must be. How'd things go with Allan?
ME: About as good as I expected.
JESSE: That good, huh?
ME: Did he fill you in on our history at all?
JESSE: Yeah, but I kinda took it with a grain of salt. Otherwise, I'd be throwing holy water at you right now.

Sounds about right.

JESSE: So are you meeting someone here?
ME: Yeah, I'm actually meeting a date here.

It was then that I realized I was ten minutes late and my date still wasn't here. I checked my phone and it turned out that my date had sent me a text letting me know he wasn't feeling well and that we'd have to take a rain check.

Well, that was all right. I wasn't feeling too hot either, and now I had an excuse to leave.

ME: I guess I've been stood up. I'm probably just going to go home.

But just then, Nick and Turner appeared, and they wouldn't take my leaving for an answer. Neither would Jesse, actually.

JESSE: You should stay. That way you can owe me a dance for later. I got to get back to my friends though. They're in from Alabama and I promised to get them laid while they were in town.

I looked over and one of the cavemen seemed to tsk and then turn away from me.

ME: Good luck with that.

Jesse smiled at me.

JESSE: I might not have the best taste in friends, but at least I've done a decent job when it comes to picking boyfriends. I haven't dated a jerk yet.
NICK: And how many guys have you dated total?
JESSE: Oh, just the one. But I'm very optimistic for the future.

With that, he winked and walked away.

TURNER: What a little Southern dandy.
ME: I know.
NICK: He seemed to like you.
ME: Don't even suggest it. He's Allan's roommate.
TURNER: How did that go?
ME: It went all right. I feel much better now that I've said what I needed to say. Of course, I'm still sneezing every minute and my head feels like it's going to explode on top of the fact that I just got stood up but other than all that, things are great.
NICK: You should go ask the dandy to dance.
ME: Absolutely not.
TURNER: It would probably get right under Allan's skin.

He was right. But I didn't want to drag an innocent person into the War of Kevin and Allan.

NICK: He asked for a dance. I'm just saying go take him up on his offer.

I looked across the bar at Jesse. What I saw was that Allan had now shown up and he was already forming his Fortress of Solitude. No way was I getting anywhere near Jesse tonight.

TURNER: Wow, they almost look like that wall of shields the army makes when its under attack.
ME: He's perfected it over the years. Back when I was the fresh meat in his group you would have had to hire the F.B.I. to get me out of that little cage of gays.
NICK: My father worked for the F.B.I. actually.
ME: Shut up, did he?
NICK: Yup. I bet I can penetrate that little cage.
TURNER: What do you say, Kevin? You want to let him give it a shot?
ME: Hey, I'm always down for a good penetration.

Awkward silence.

ME: I'm kidding. I was just...poor choice of words...I'm sick, people! Cut me some slack!

Nick put his plan into action almost immediately. He walked over to the bar and instructed the bartender to buy a drink for for Caveman #1. Then he walked back over to our table while the drink was delivered.

You could tell that Caveman #1 had never had someone buy him a drink before, because his eyes lit up like a Broadway marquee and he instantly stopped shooting nasty looks over at our table. Nick waved at him a little and he waved back, which sent Allan into a tizzy. The two of them seemed to argue back and forth, and then Caveman #1 came over bringing Caveman #2 with him.

CAVEMAN #1: Hey, thanks for the drink.
NICK: No problem. I'm sure you get that all the time.
CAVEMAN #2: Him, please?
CAVEMAN #1: Shut up, Matt!

Turner now played his part and addressed Caveman #2.

TURNER: And who's buying you drinks, Matt?

Caveman #2 melted before Turner finished the question.

CAVEMAN #2: You're free to do so if you like.
TURNER: Oh, I would definitely like to.
NICK: Let's all go downstairs and dance a little first.
TURNER: You boys want to dance?

They nodded vigorously and pretty soon I was upstairs by myself watching Allan have a firm discussion with Jesse. After a few minutes, Jesse walked over to me and Allan disappeared downstairs.

JESSE: That was a funny little trick you pulled.
ME: Actually I didn't pull it. My friends did.
JESSE: Your friends are pretty sly.
ME: No, they're not. I just think your friends are pretty stupid.
JESSE: Also a good possibility.

We talked and talked, and pretty soon I forgot that I was talking to Allan's roommate who I should be avoiding like the plague.

JESSE: So it looks like I might have ended up being your date tonight, huh?
ME: I don't mind, but I'd imagine you're in big trouble right now.
JESSE: I'm only staying with Allan temporarily until I find my own place. I just moved in with him after I saw a posting on craigslist.
ME: It's too bad you didn't get lucky and move in with a serial killer.
JESSE: Hey now, he's always been nice to me...But he is a little controlling at times. I don't like being forbidden to do anything.
ME: He forbid you to talk to me?
JESSE: Oh, he forbid me to even look in your direction.
ME: I guess it's kind of sad that we still hate each other this much after all these years.
JESSE: You must have hurt each other pretty bad.

Nobody's ever going to want you...You're such a cocktease...I don't like you that way, Allan...He's not even half as cute as Teddy or Travis...

ME: I think it's safe to say we both did our fair share.

Two seconds later I went into a coughing fit, and it was then that I decided to take off. Jesse walked me downstairs where I said good-bye to Turner and Nick, who were still dancing with the Cavemen and shooting me two "You owe us big" looks.

I saw Allan sitting at the far end of the bar downstairs having a drink by himself. He looked so old to me now, even though we were still only a couple of years apart. He'd valued all the wrong things and hurt everyone who ever cared about him--and I'd done a lot of both, too.

Looking at him, I felt bad. I felt like he had become what all of us fear and what so many of us come so close to experiencing--being alone, truly alone.

FRIEND: And then you walked over and kicked the stool out from underneath him, right?
ME: No, I was going for a moment of clarity there.
FRIEND: F**k clarity. What about revenge?
ME: Believe me, if you could have seen him, you would have seen that life's getting its own revenge.
FRIEND: Funny how somehow who tries to keep his friends close and everyone else shut out ends up just shutting out all his friends anyway.
ME: Excellent observation.
FRIEND: The new guy I'm f**king subscribes to Psychology Today.

As sick as I was feeling, I couldn't drive away from the club that night. Instead I drove to a CVS, bought a little notepad, and wrote down the following.

Dear Allan,

We both screwed up. We'll never be best friends, but we can at least stop hating each other for our own sakes. I'm a different person now than I was then, and I'm sure you are, too. So why can't we put those two people to rest and just move from it all?

I hope we can.

Kevin

I left the letter in his mailbox and drove off. The funny thing is, as soon as I did it, my head seemed to clear up, and I felt much, much better.

Date #91: What If...

Hey Kev, you hungry?

I got out my face. That face I plan on using if I ever lose an Emmy Award. It's the "I'm not surprised or unhappy about this at all" face.

I slapped that face on and said--

"Hey Paye, how's it going?"

What if...I was standing in this kitchen right now?

TURNER: Do not use butter for the scrambled eggs. Use vegetable oil.
ME: Vegetable oil gives it that funny taste.

I'm cooking breakfast at midnight with Turner. He's walking around in his boxers and a t-shirt that says "Save the Planet for Captain Planet."

I'm wearing a t-shirt that says "Go Big or Go Home" (borrowed from him) and sweatpants.

TURNER: You know some people actually eat meals aside from breakfast.
ME: And what meal would that be at midnight?

He kisses me on the cheek and I pull him in front of me so that I can wrap my arms around him.

TURNER: You making pancakes too?
ME: Of course I'm making pancakes. What would a midnight breakfast be without pancakes?
TURNER: Don't forget we're going to my Mom's tomorrow for her birthday.
ME: We're taking her to that seafood place where your Dad complains about the prices?
TURNER: You know it.
ME: Fun stuff.

He turns around and wraps his arms around my neck while the eggs form little perfect scrambled groupings in the pan.

TURNER: You love me?
ME: Like whoa.
TURNER: Like whoa, huh?
ME: Like major whoa.

I kiss him and...

PAYE: Kev?

...I'm back in the kitchen.

ME: Um, could I have a drink of water?

Turner gets me my drink, while Paye excuses himself to use the bathroom. I sit at the kitchen table.

TURNER: You're upset, aren't you?
ME: Why would I be upset? I have no right to be upset.
TURNER: I know, but you're still upset. You're doing the face.
ME: What face?
TURNER: The 'I just lost my third Daytime Emmy' face.
ME: Dammit, I forgot I told you about that.

Turner leans over and looks me square in the eye.

TURNER: I didn't plan for this. I really didn't.
ME: It's okay, Turner. I'm just a little--
TURNER: I am, too. Paye and I--it just happened, but now...I don't know. I just feel so good with him. Like...safe, nice--I know it's really soon after Gary, but--
ME: Hey, whatever makes you happy--makes me happy. Honestly.
TURNER: You don't hate me? I was going to tell you, but I was just--

I leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

ME: You're one of my best friends in the world. I could never hate you.
TURNER: Wow, where's the overreactor I've come to know and love?
ME: He's starting to wonder what his life would be like if he had made certain...different...choices.

What if...

I'm having lunch with my boyfriend, Brian, at the N.C. We're trying to make it quick since we have a party to get to later that night.

BRIAN: So the sex last night wasn't disappointing?
ME: Brian--
BRIAN: I'm just asking.
ME: It was fine.
BRIAN: I don't want our sex to be fine. I want to be earth-shaking.
ME: We've been together for almost a year. You can't expect it to still be earth-shaking.
BRIAN: So what--if we're together for six years it'll become less earth-shaking with each passing year?
ME: I don't know. I've never been with anyone for six years before, so I couldn't tell you.
BRIAN: This is a stupid argument to be having, isn't it?
ME: Yes, it is, because I love you, I think you're the sexiest man on the planet, and any time I get to see you naked is utterly earth-shaking for me.

He smiles and steals a piece of chicken off my plate.

BRIAN: You love me, huh?
ME: More than my luggage.
BRIAN: You're ridiculous.
ME: I know, I know.

He leans across the table to kiss me and--

BRIAN: --And anyone I think they might be very good for each other.
ME: What?
BRIAN: Paye and Turner. I think they could be very good for each other.
ME: I agree.
BRIAN: That's it?
ME: Huh?
BRIAN: No catty comments. No predictions of disaster.
ME: I don't have the strength to predict disaster anymore.

He picks a piece of chicken off my plate.

BRIAN: Don't make it a habit. I don't want to be left on a catty limb all by myself.
ME: No worries. I'm not planning on reforming my bitchy ways. I've just been thinking about choices lately.
BRIAN: Choices?
ME: Yeah, choices. I've been on ninety dates in a little under a year. Tonight will be ninety-one. Should I have done something different along the way? Should I have tried harder with certain guys? Have I passed up anyone worthwhile?
BRIAN: You can't change the past, Kevin.
ME: I know, but you also can't help but think about it from time to time.

My date that night was going to be with this guy Wes. We'd met while I was in college, but had only just recently managed to recconnect. We were going out for dinner but I felt like my mind wasn't in the right place.

WES: So how's post-college life treating you?
ME: It's good so far. Definitely a transistional period.
WES: Do you date a lot around here?
ME: Define 'a lot.'

He laughed. Behind him I could see Charlie shaking his head.

CHARLIE: Do you actually think anything's going to come from this date?
ME: I don't know. I only expected a hookup from you and look where that went.
CHARLIE: Everyone always wants to know what happened to me.

That I don't understand. Nobody ever wondered what happened to all those girls Zach dated on Saved by the Bell and never talked to again. Do you realize that at one point Zach dated a bling girl and a girl in a wheelchair on that show, had these long, tearful monologues about how he didn't care that they were blind or disabled because he'd love them anyway, and then the next episode came and they were nowhere to be found.

And yet I don't mention Charlie for awhile and everyone gets on my case.

CHARLIE: That's because they could tell I was special.
ME: You were special but it just didn't work out.
CHARLIE: Because I wanted a relationship.
ME: No, you wanted a marriage. There's a difference.
CHARLIE: You didn't want to commit.
ME: Why do you think I'm doing all this? Blogging, dating, driving myself crazy--I want a commitment! I want to meet that amazing guy who I'll want to spend years of my life with--maybe my whole life, but I'm not just going to settle for anybody!
CHARLIE: Maybe you need to accept the fact that even if that guy came along, you wouldn't have any room in your life for him to occupy.

With that, he disintegrated back into the far corners of my mind.

WES: Peronally, I find the current political climate very--
ME: I'm sorry, what?
WES: The political climate. I don't know how familiar you are with--
ME: Yes! I mean, I am familiar. Sorry, I didn't mean to cut you off.
WES: It's okay. Do you have any early favorites?
ME: I'm going to go with Edwards. Just because I need a democrat, and I'm not stupid enough to think that Alabama and Arkansas wouldn't just revolt and secede before they'd let themselves be governed by a woman or an African-American.
WES: Wow, you got some cynical views there.
ME: I just say what I think.

...Which is usually what gets me into trouble.

What if...

DWIGHT: I'm so disgusted right now.
ME: We in agreement on that.

Dwight and I are watching the Republican debates.

DWIGHT: All these people who supported the war and the administration are just turning with the tide to get a few extra votes.
ME: It'll be more than a few extra votes, honey. Nobody is going to win an election this year saying that the war was anything but a mistake.

I get up to make some more popcorn. Dwight follows me to the microwave.

DWIGHT: Is it so wrong that I still want to believe in my President? That I need to trust that a few years ago everyone wasn't standing behind something simply because they though that was what their constituents wanted?
ME: Well isn't that their job? To do what their constituents want them to do?
DWIGHT: Not if it's the wrong thing to do!
ME: It's hard to determine what the right and wrong things are nowadays, Dwight.

He leans against the counter looking glum. I press the "Start" button on the microwave and give him a kiss.

DWIGHT: You realize you're actually defending Republicans just to cheer me up, right?
ME: I do what I can.
DWIGHT: I love you.
ME: I love you, too.

Back in the real world, the political conversation had just ended before we arrived at Wes' place.

WES: Can I get you anything? I know you don't drink, but--
ME: Sprite would be great if you have it.
WES: I have it indeed.

He disappeared into his kitchen.

SCOOTER: He seems all right to me.
ME: He'd make a better boyfriend than you would, that's for sure.
SCOOTER: Why? Because I'm oversexed? Because I burp the alphabet? Because--
ME: Either of the first two would have been fine.
SCOOTER: But you and I have something that you can't just create.
ME: Which would be--?
SCOOTER: Chemistry. We have major chemistry.
ME: Chemistry is something the destructive part of our minds create to draw us towards people who aren't any good for us.
SCOOTER: I seem to remember us being very good for each other in certain areas--
ME: We're not having this discussion in the living room of the boy I'm on a date with, Scooter.
SCOOTER: You're the one whose imagining this conversation, Broccoli.
ME: I'm just wishing I was sitting in the living room of someone I've been dating for ten months now instead of sitting here at the starting line for what seems like the millionth time. That's what I hate when something doesn't work out, you know? Back to the starting line. It just feels like you're always building this thing that's never going to be finished and you're not even building it for anyone. It just disappears every day and you have to start all over again.
SCOOTER: Wow...That is fucking depressing as hell.

Good to know Imaginary Scooter is just as sensitive as Real Scooter.

WES: So, Kev, what do you do for fun?
ME: I hunt kittens in the forest.
WES: Is that so?
ME: No, I just wanted to answer that question once without saying 'theater, reading, movies.'
WES: I like theater, reading, and movies.
ME: Most people do. My favorite is when people say 'I'm into music.' I mean, isn't everyone into music? Who doesn't like some kind of music?
WES: Honestly, music really isn't that big a deal to me.

What if...

I'm at the karaoke bar on my birthday--my 23rd birthday. All the regulars are there.

SCOOTER: Just think. Today would have been the day you finished the blog.
ME: God, can you imagine me still writing that thing? How many dates can you possibly go on in this town? You'd run out of guys.
TURNER: I thought it was a neat idea. It would have been cool to have seen you carry it out.
ME: Well thank God it didn't take me 100 dates to find Nick. I probably would have checked myself into an institution if it took a year to find a decent guy.
BRIAN: At least you were less of a prick when you weren't happily taken.
TURNER: Brian!
ME: It's okay. I know not everyone likes hanging around someone whose content in their life. I hope you find that kind of joy one day, Brian.
DWIGHT: Here's hoping we all find that kind of joy.

We hear silence as Nick approaches the mic.

NICK: This is for my amazing boyfriend on his birthday. I love you, babe.

I mouth the words "I love you, too" and he starts to sing.

I would give up everything
Before I'd separate myself from you
After so much suffering
I finally found unvarnished truth

DWIGHT: Kevin, do you want more Sprite?
ME: Huh?

And then--

WES: Sprite? Do you want more?
ME: Oh, um, no actually. I think I should be going. I have an early day tomorrow.
WES: All right. Well, I'll walk you down.
ME: Okay.

Thank God I found you
I was lost without you
My every wish and every dream
Somehow became reality

Once we reached my car outside, Wes gave me a hug and then took a step back from me.

WES: You seem like you're going through some rough stuff, Kev.
ME: Not rough, really. Just...Wes, do you ever worry about being alone?
WES: I wish I could say 'Yes,' but I have my friends, my family--
ME: I know, but...At night, right before you go to sleep--do you ever turn over and just wish someone was there. Someone you could look at and kiss on the forehead? Someone willing to be the bookends to your day?
WES: I think everyone wishes for that.
ME: I just wonder if I'm going about finding it the right way.
WES: You know the best way to get someone to sleep next to you?
ME: What?
WES: Offer to take them out on a second date.

I laughed.

ME: You're kind of a ho-bag, ain't ya?
WES: Mmm, just make sure you're a little more present the next time around, okay?
ME: Deal.

I got in my car and began the drive home alone with my thoughts.

FRIEND: You have officially skated over in Crazy Town.
ME: There's nothing crazy about wondering what might have been.
FRIEND: When you got figments of your imagination serenading you with Mariah and Joe, you're crazy. End of story.
ME: I have nine more dates left. Nine.
FRIEND: So make 'em count instead of bitching about how many of them there are.
ME: First I need to straighten out a problem in my past.
FRIEND: Don't even tell me you're finally going to come out to your grandparents, because that is one very special entry I don't need to be a part of, okay?
ME: Don't worry. It's a little more complicated than that.

When I got home I had to do a little digging to find the phone number I wanted, but once I did, it still took me two hours to muster up the courage to make the call.

ME: Hi Allan, this is Kevin Broccoli...

Kevin, sweetie, you can only date for so long before it all just seems so...pointless.

...I believe we have some things to talk about.

Date #90: Kind and Direct

So here's something I will never understand.

Your friend is about to make a huge mistake. Perhaps even colossal. And what do you say?

That's great! I'm so happy for you! Everything's going to turn out just the way you want it to!

I know, it looks dumb to me, too.

Perhaps I should put it in some context.

I went out on a date with a guy named Henry. The date was an absolutely trainwreck. A travesty. A Bratz! feature length film--you get the idea.

We had barely anything to talk about at all. He was awkward, made horrendous jokes, and seemed to only want to talk about his past relationships.

After I got home, I went online and found that he had already IMed me to say what a great time he had. Perfect, I thought, now I can't even get away with not calling him because he knows it was just as much of a disaster as I do--he thinks we had a great time.

I was about to message him a long explanation of all the reasons we shouldn't try going out on a date again--actually, the list didn't need to be that long--when I noticed he had a link in his profile to his livejournal account. I clicked on it.

For those of you not up to date with livejournal, it's one of those things you're semi-embarrassed to be a part of yet you check it constantly and update whenever you're bored. I think of it as a nice way to keep in touch with people--but mostly I read it and think--

Are these people crazy?

Henry was no exception. As a matter of fact, Henry had a very clear problem as far as I could discern from his livejournal--he was into making the same mistakes over and over again, particularly with guys.

(Keep in mind when you're reading these that this guy in his mid-twenties; I have not started dating pre-teens.)

Hey Everybody,

I just met this awesome guy and we're going to be so happy together, I can already tell. He's supercute and sooo sweet to me!!! Can't wait for all of you to meet him ;o)

Henry

Hey Everybody,

Things with that guy didn't work out. I feel like I'm so ugly and dumb. Booo!!! I hate myself right now. Why do I screw everything up? I think I might have called him too much, but I just liked him so much, ya know? Oh well. Maybe I'll never be happy.

Herny

Hi Hi Hi!

This amazing guy came into where I work today and gave me his number! I am going crazy because I want to call him so bad but I think maybe I should wait until tomorrow. I don't know what to do! Help you guys!!! Hahaha Just kidding. I already called him a couple times and we're going to hang out soon. He's so cute!

Henry

I hate my life so much right now. That guy hasn't returned my calls. I guess some things are too good to be true.

Henry

Yo what's up homeboys and girls? Hahaha--cause I'm so ghetto right?

Met the man of my dreams today. For real, this guy is THE ONE!!! We both like a lot of the same stuff, and I know that it's only been a few days since Tyson stopped calling me, but I really think the best for me is get right back on the horse. You can't turn down love, ya know?

Henry

I should just kill myself.

Henry

It goes on and on like this for a good--oh, I'd say as long as he's had this journal. What scares me isn't what he writes--it's a livejournal, you're allowed to be emotional, and stupid, and whatever as much as you want. What scares me is that there are clear self-destructive patterns going on in this kid's life, and what do his friends have to say about it?

COMMENT: Henry! I love you so much! I'm so happy for you! I'm sure this guy is perfect and you two are going to be so cute together. Can't wait to meet him!

COMMENT: Henry, that guy is just an asshole. You deserve so much better! Forget him. So what if you called too much? He's going to stop talking to you because you care??? That's crazy.

COMMENT: Henry, you are the sweetest guy I know! You'll find love.

COMMENT: Henry, this guys sounds like he's the real deal. Good job, kiddo!

COMMENT: Poor baby! Why are guys such jerks?

ME: Are these guys absolutely crazy?
BRIAN: Don't ask me if people who actually use a livejournal are crazy, because you know what my answer will be.

I was kvetching with Brian at the N.C. I just wanted to know if these people were being good, helpful friends by encouraging this guy's delusions, or if they would be better friends by just telling him to give himself a breather in between each awful date and learn how to actually talk to people.

BRIAN: You can tell you were raised in an Italian household.
ME: How?
BRIAN: Because you equate love with yelling at someone.
ME: So you think they're right?
BRIAN: I think they're trying to be supportive.
ME: And you don't think they're enabling him?
BRIAN: How is this enabling?
ME: Because support is only support if it helps you to a better place. He's not getting anywhere by having all these people feed him this bullshit.
BRIAN: Kevin, I realize you have no tolerance for social civility--
ME: Brian--
BRIAN: --But some people survive on it. Hopefully this kid has a friend who does tell him the honest truth when he screws up, that's what you are to me.

That was actually very sweet of him to say, I thought. I decided to end my rant and move on to more important topics.

ME: So, about the barbeque--
BRIAN: Nope.
ME: Nope?
BRIAN: Nope.
ME: Nope what?
BRIAN: No, I am not going to tell you who hooked up at the party.
ME: Why not?
BRIAN: Because they asked us all not to.
ME: Asked who all not to?
BRIAN: The two people who...got together...asked all of us not to tell you.
ME: Why not?
BRIAN: Because of the unending support they believe you'd give them if you found out.

Are you f**king kidding me?

ME: Are you one of these two people?
BRIAN: If I was, I wouldn't tell you.
ME: How can you all feel that way?
BRIAN: Kevin, you're not exactly--
ME: I know, I can be judgey, but I'm getting better at that. Besides, if you're not ashamed--
BRIAN: Don't give me that 'if you're not ashamed of what you've done' speech. Just because someone's not ashamed that they did something doesn't mean they want to hear anything about it after the fact.
ME: Terrific. What if I promise not to say anything?
BRIAN: You'll say it with your eyes.
ME: So now I'm a flamenco dancer?
BRIAN: What?
ME: They say things with their--never mind.

I would have just let it drop there, but you, my readers, have a right to know who hooked up. So I did what I did--for you.

...Yeah, let's go with that.

ME: Hi Turner, what's--
TURNER: I'm not telling you.

ME: Dwight, it's me and I--
DWIGHT: Forget it, Kevin.

ME: Nick, I was just wondering--
NICK: Nice try, Broccoli.

ME: Scooter, I'll--
SCOOTER: Ashton Kutcher?
ME: Good night, Scooter.

Well, so much for that.

To make things even better, I got a second date request from Henry.

I decided to try and help the guy out--in a sensitive, supportive, yet helpful manner.

I told him that I would not like to go out on a second date, but would it be okay if we just went and got coffee as friends? He said sure, but I could tell he was a little upset by my conditions.

We went to a little coffee place on the east side and had a talk, and I tried to be as honest and yet, as kind, as possible.

ME: Henry, you're a good guy.
(What? He is a good guy. We all have problems.)
HENRY: If I'm a good guy, then why didn't you want to have a second date?
ME: Honestly, I just don't think we click. It's not anything that's the matter with you, it's something that's just there or it isn't, and it's nobody's fault if it isn't.
(After all, everybody loves somebody sometime, right?)
HENRY: This happens to me all the time.
ME: I know.
HENRY: You know?
ME: I read your livejournal.
HENRY: Oh...
ME: I'm sorry if that was an invasion of your privacy or anything.
HENRY: No, it's cool. Now you can see what I mean.
ME: Henry, I think I might be able to offer a little help.
HENRY: Really?
ME: Yeah, see...I think maybe you need to give yourself some time in between meeting guys.
HENRY: I don't really...what do you mean?
ME: Well, you jump from one date to the next and you don't really learn anything so you end up making the same mistakes over and over again. You get too clingy, you set your hopes too high, you don't really click with any of these guys but you're just so happy to have someone that you force it.

Henry looked like he was digesting all of this. That's good, I wanted to say. Digest, Henry, digest.

ME: The only reason I'm saying this is because I used to be just like you. I hated dating, and I couldn't understand why. I mean, even bad dates are supposed to be fun on some level--maybe humorous, but even the good ones weren't anything all that special. And then I started this...project...and I learned that what was missing was that I wasn't trying to take anything from the dates I was going on. I was just bouncing from guy to guy--not literally, I'm not a skank--but I guess what I'm trying to say is, give yourself some time to figure out what it is you want, and then you won't go after guys who don't see you for how great you are.

Henry nodded, and then asked the million dollar question.

HENRY: Okay, but--if you learn something from each date you go on...what did you learn from your date with me?

Oh Christ...

Nice monologue, Kevin--guess you forgot that you have to--Oh...

ME: I learned that everybody deserves to know why something didn't work out. The guys who didn't call you back are assholes, Henry. Nobody deserves to just be cut off like that. We're all supposed to be nice to each other and help each other out when we can. I know that makes me sound like a hippie but--
HENRY: It's okay, I like hippies.
ME: Oh...good.

We finished the rest of our coffee in relative silence, but I could tell Henry felt a little bit better that I had talked to him.

Later on that night, after a little detour, I would arrive home and check livejournal just to find that Henry had made a post shortly after he got home.

Hey Everybody

I hung out with Kevin again tonight. He says that he's not interested and that there's nothing between us, but I mean, why would he ask me out again if that was the case? Am I being crazy?

Henry

COMMENT: No way, Henry. If he asked you out, he definitely is just fighting his feelings!

Good to know, I made a lasting impact.

FRIEND: You should have posted a comment of your own. Get on medication--fast!
ME: The goal was to be kind and direct.
FRIEND: The two can't co-exist. Someone either gets hurt or they get mislead. You have to pick which one.
ME: I'd like to think I have a tougher skin than most, but when I was talking to Henry tonight, and I saw how upset he was that yet another guy hadn't worked out--
FRIEND: It reminded you that we're now ten dates away from the finale and you're still up sexless creek on a yacht with no boat boys?
ME: Something like that.
FRIEND: But remember what you said to him, what's important is figuring out what you want.
ME: Yeah, and it sounded good at the time, but now I wonder--do I know what I want?

On my way back home, I decided to call Turner and see if he wanted to hang out for a little bit. I needed some down time after my big talk with Henry. He answered, but only for a second. Then I heard--

VOICE: Just call him back later, I want you to--
TURNER: Ssshh!

And then the call got cut off.

I upped my speed to Turner's apartment, and when I got there I saw a car out front. Unfortunately, I'm awful with remembering what it is people drive, but I was almost positive it didn't belong to Nick, Dwight, Brian or Scooter.

This might not have been the best idea, but I walked right up to Turner's floor and knocked on his door.

I heard noises coming from inside, then the door opened.

TURNER: Hey Kev.
ME: I realize that this is none of my business, but--
TURNER: No, it's okay. You're bound to find out eventually anyway.

He opened the door a little wider and let me see who was in his kitchen making dinner.

ME: Oh...

Hey Kev, you hungry?