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.