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.