And Then There Were None

Where have I been? That's a really good question. I have been awkwardly neglectful and stressed about my absence. Part of it is my own fault, part of it is work, part of it is doing research. (Research? Did I just try to make myself important? DID I? Yes, yes I did.) When I say research, what I mean is that I have been tirelessly going on dates for the last month. Remember that time that I made a promise to go on a certain number of dates before the middle of May? Cahmmm ahnnn, you remember. Fine, read it HERE. Well, I want to discuss the dates with you... in detail... now.

Date One: The Peaceful Snob

The first date I went on was at the very end of April. It was casual and friendly and not filled with any of the sparks or butterflies that you would want from a relationship starting date. The guy was a hippie teacher who had spent a couple of years in the Peace Corps. (Do you see where issues might arise? DO YOU?) I had decided that this date was going to be amazingly interesting and culturally enlightening, or a complete and total whack job. 

This was kinda the opposite of everything I thought it was going to be. The date started off normal enough with us making small talk about our lives and where we are in our careers. He fit all of the basic criteria for a mate: 29, teacher, tall, seemed to be grounded, witty. Then things took a turn when we began discussing his time in Africa. Out of nowhere he became a travel snob and started discussing his family's wealth. 

(Joan is perfect for expressing CONSTANT SURPRISE and mild annoyance. Thanks, Botox.)

I was slapped in the face with this. I wasn't expecting it. How does one prepare for this? You have just spent TWO years of your life working for the needy, the poor, the down trodden and the thing you want to discuss with me is the traveling you did? Not only did he tell me all the countries he visited, he then went into the trips he was able to take with his family. I think he told me about this one kid he helped once, and it was "like pretty cool."

I wasn't really sure how to continue the date after that. We tried to move on but I was so dumbfounded that I am sure I didn't make sense. Peace Snob just went about his business and continued to bring the convo back to himself. We parted ways with an awkward handshake/handhold thing and a promise of a second date... THAT WILL NEVER HAPPEN.

Date Two: The Intense Latino

So date two was a bit more promising than the first. The guy was a hefty Latino man who worked as a lobbyist. We met at my go-to place, Crios, in Dupont Circle. I go there for two reasons: (1) It's easy/close to where I live, and (2) They have fucking delicious margaritas, and if I can't enjoy the date I can at least get tipsy.

Latino Heat was obviously into the idea of a Mexican restaurant as well. We had decent conversation at the beginning and then got really deep into family shit. I usually get weird about this stuff, but I let it slide after the second marg. (Let's cool it on the judgement. Two more margs and we would have an issue.) After we finished our dinner, we slowly made our way up the street and when I turned to say goodbye, he went in for the kiss. Because I am a gentleman I didn't stop him... but I felt... nothing, literally, nothing. It felt like I was kissing one of my best girlfriends... nice to have lips on me but not really doing anything below the neck. (Wink, WINK.)

Despite the less than exciting experience, I decided to go on a second date with him to see if the sparks could be found. Unfortunately for him, our second date coincided with a massive work emergency that ended up consuming my attention for most of our date. We went to Mellow Mushroom in Adams Morgan, also not far from where I live (I'm a man of convenience), and nommed on some pizza. The sparks were far from present, and as I walked back to my apartment, I decided to let this fizzle out. 

Unfortunately for me, Latino Heat seemed to think we were a match made in heaven. He began texting me incessantly about hanging out again. I told him about my busy work schedule and then decided not to text him back. Then, in a period of 24 hours, he texted me 8 times. Eight. OCHO. ACHT. ATE. EiGhT. 

(ZOINKS)

I didn't know what to do with all of them. They ranged from normal checking in to increasingly creepy and clingy. 

Text 1: Hey, I know you are busy and stuff, I just wanted to check in and make sure you are okay. 

Text 3: Hey, I haven't heard from you. I was thinking our next date could be something casual and intimate. 

Text 5: So I really think we could have something special, let me make you dinner this week. 

Text 8: I have looked at your OkCupid profile a few more times, and I really agree with it that we are a match. I think we should make a go of it. 

I'm sorry... you are continuing to look at my OkC profile? WHAT? WHO ADMITS THAT? He might be admitting it because you can SEE when someone has looked at your profile. He actually looked at my profile every day for a week. I just... I just... I can't. MATCH FAIL. 

Date Three: Tiny and Bland

To round out this trifecta, I decided to go on one last date in May before I headed to Miami for my work/vacation trip. This guy was cute, dark, and gainfully employed as a consultant. (Read also: my dream man.) We were messaging back and forth, and he had some painfully adorable lines that swayed me into a date. The one thing that was holding me back was his height. Tiny Dancer was all of 5'6" to my 6'1" frame. 

(Just not my cup of tea.)

I sucked it up and went on the date anyways. I had somehow convinced Tiny Dancer to go to Crios with me after a rather long Friday at work. (Man. Of. Convenience.) We had a lot in common and the conversation just kinda flowed between us. There wasn't a great deal of attraction, mainly because I considered bringing a booster seat on the date, but he was nice, nonetheless. We had a few sticking points where I knew we wouldn't work out in the long run — beyond the height. 

1. He had a rule against having any alcoholic beverages after 9pm. Ever. 

     2.  He was a Republican. (No offense, Republican readers... I'm just... I... well, it's a thing.)

(This is from Aubrey O'Days stint on RuPaul's Drag Race. She, surprisingly, is not a drag queen.)

     3. Finally, the worst offense, he didn't like reality TV, especially Bravo. 

(If anyone can give a "Bitch Please" face, its Madame Hillary Effing Clinton.)

I am fairly certain he felt the same about my liberal, reality TV watching, hard partying ways. Plus, I was a giant next to him... and girl, that ain't cute. As if he needed an extra thing against me, the gorgeous host at Crios called me out. Close to the end of the date, the host swung by and stood near me, looking me up and down for a second. 

Cahhhute Host: You've come here before. A lot. You always have fun boys with you. 

Me: *shocked* Way to blow up my spot! 

Tiny Dancer: Fun boys?

Me: I hang out with a lot of gays? I like Tex-Mex. THEY HAVE GOOD BRUNCH.

Cahhhute Host: See! I told you, you're so funny! 

Anddd, another one bites the dust. 

Last week I was in Miami, this weekend is DC Pride, next week I'm in Chicago, and then I am going to NYC Pride. I want to update you on all of these things, Amanda Bynes, and the future of my liver. (Hint: It's not a bright one.)

Peace Snob: A new type of terrible 

Latino Heat: A hunk, a hunk of CREEPY LOVE

Tiny Dancer: Fell just short of being terrific. (See what I did there, DO YOU?)

Fabulously Lost: Hot Mess, since '88

Birthday Celebrations: Cops, Drunks, and Brunches

Real talk: You know how you sometimes hear about how hysterical a celebrity was on a talk show the night before or one of the blogs you read links you to a youtube link of a late night interview? (Shhh just go with me...it will feel right soon) Then you get to that link and you see like 100,000+ lame people have watched that video before this link was EVER posted in one of these articles, right? And you sit back and say "Man, what loser sat here and watched interviews of celebs?" WELP...you're looking at one of those losers.

(When I first watched this clip there were only 265, 345 views. Don't you worry your pretty little heads, I was also view 266, 226. THE CONTENT DIDNT EVEN CHANGE)

That's right guys, to avoid doing whatever mundane task has been put in front of me, from cleaning my room to finishing a report, I somehow get wrapped up into watching these clips...FOR HOURS. I don't understand it at all. It baffles me when I look at the clock, and it's 1a.m. and I've just lost 3hrs of my life watching every single one of Amy Poehler's interviews since she became an actress. (She has had QUITE the life).

As riveting as my Youtube skills must be to you, I actually have a story to tell you about my life. (That sentence had every intention of sounding, both, self-deprecating and vain at the same time. #win). This little diddy is more of an ongoing saga related to my life in birthdays!

(Someone wasn't hugged very much)

My birthdays have been fairly run of the mill days in the past. The actual day of my birth seems to range from terrible to fairly lame and then the parties I have tend to be where I truly get to celebrate a day about me. (You felt bad for a minute and then you were all like "Dayyyum Fab. Calm down. So vain") Just a couple examples: 

1. 16th Birthday: No one remembered. Like no joke...I was Molly Ringwald in the '80s except there was no cute boy sitting on a table with cake at the end of the day. (Another failed expectation brought on by movies). But then the weekend after a friend had a party for me to make up for it. 
2. 18th Birthday: All of my friends were away at college and I was working a full time job and going to community college. I spent my birthday helping people buy chocolates for their loved ones at Godiva. There was no party that year...
3. 23rd Birthday: I worked late and then came home and had a frozen dinner. Then had an epic party....one people still talk about....

Last year my birthday was on a Tuesday and there wasn't too much anyone could do. I decided to throw myself a little get together with some of my close friends from high school, college, work, and just general Baltimore friends. What this also meant was that I was going to be combining Gay Friendz and Straight Friendz. Now, if you remember, for the longest time I was the anti-gay gay and when I came into my own with Gay Friendz, I had always just kept the two worlds apart. My worlds were going to collide big time because I was not only going to throw this party for myself, but we were all going to the gay bar once we were liquored up. 

(Like...it doesn't make sense but it feels right. WORLDS COLLIDE. Also in this pic..Straight Friendz get stuck with Miley. Party in the USA?)

Ok, ok, so thats not where it gets juicy. The party itself goes of swell and we all head to the gay bar. In the group of Straight Friendz there were several dudes who were going to a gay bar for the first time and they ended up loving the music and the dance-y techno-ishness of it all. We had a blast, that is, until I got a call from one of my friends, who left early, told me my front door was completely broken and no one could get in...not even with the key. Oh, and it was now raining. 

(It was going sooo welllllll. fuck.)

I ended up jumping in a cab with the rest of the friends who were staying at my place and heading back to my house. When I got home, I noticed a screw driver sticking out of the door where my roommate had tried to break into our house. Luckily for us, because it had been so warm in my place we had left the kitchen windows open and were were able to hoist a tiny friend in who just opened the backdoor of our house. I decided in my drunken state that the best thing to do would be to deal with this in the morning and not whilst on a buzzed high. 

We all began getting ready to go to sleep and recapping the awesome night when I get a knock on the front door. I make my way to the front of the house and looked out the window to see FOUR cop cars and EIGHT cops all pointing guns at the front of my house. 

Cop 1: OPEN THE DOOR.

Me: *Standing at window* Hello officer, I cannot open the door, it is broken.

Cop 1: YOU HAVE TO OPEN THE DOOR NOW.

Me: Yes, I understand, but I can't because the door is broken...the back door works fine if you'd like to come in from there.

Cop 1: WE CANNOT DO THAT. IF YOU DON'T OPEN THE DOOR I WILL BREAK IT DOWN.

Me: Well, I don't think thats necessary, I've given you a perfectly good seco...

Cop 1: ON THE COUNT OF THREE....1.....2.....3

And then he literally busted my door down. I had 14 friends staying over my townhouse that night and they were all standing in shock as this door flew open and all the cops stood there looking at us. Lights were flashing and everyone was just confused about what was going on. 

You see, apparently when my roommate tried to break into the house our neighbors decided to call the cops. The cops honestly believed they were walking into a house that was in the process of being burglarized. Much to all EIGHT cops chagrin, when the door flung open all they got was a glimpse of a bunch of drunk kids in pj's awkwardly cramming into a townhouse. All parties were fairly annoyed/disappointed and the cop fixed the door the best he could. My landlord was pissssed. He was also a douchebag so I was kinda okay with the inconvenience this put on him. 

So, you see, when you come off an epic birthday like that there aren't many ways you can top it in the shock and awe department. I decided this year, for my 24th birthday, I wanted a low-key celebration with friends. The actual day of my birthday was perfectly spent with my parents having dinner and getting gifts. I just wanted a calm birthday this  year all around. Nothing too crazy or wild because I am entering my mid-twenties and I want to be a respectable member of society. I decided that all I wanted to do for my birthday was go to a bottomless Boozy Brunch with some of my good friends. 

(This is far too classy. I usually drink out of plastic cups)

You see, there is nothing more I enjoy in life than a good brunch with bottomless drinks. How can you go wrong with a casual day drink on a Sunday to start your week right? I have been brunching in DC for over a year at this point and have had some fabulous experiences. Though, in recent times, I have really been enjoying the brunch at Local 16, so I have been frequenting it more weeks than not. They make the fatal mistake of combining Facebook, Bottomless Drinks, and Attractive Men. You see, if you "like" them on FB you get an entree and the bottomless drinks for $18 (Excuusseee me? Ugh Birthday on a Budget). To top it all off there always seem to be copious amounts of gay men scattered around the restaurant..triple win. (Did you see how many times I mentioned tops and bottoms in this paragraph? #sexualfriday #celibacy2012)

Things at my boozy birthday brunch started off so splendidly. Everyone showed up close to on-time and I had a 20 something people there. Drinks were flowing and friends were laughing and it was a grand time. I was trying to make it a point of walking around and talking to everyone, but that also meant I wasn't really eating. (Brunch Rule #1: Eat to ensure longevity in the day) There was also another person who wasn't really eating and that was my good friend One Direction, or 1D. (You may remember him as Daddy Raids from previous posts...but I decided a nickname change was in order. A colleague of ours called him One Direction during a drunken night and I loled my pants off. Not really...because its #celibacy2012)

(Ugh, if only Mr. T had been there to tell us to not be Fools.)

Next to my group of preppy brunching friends a group of attractive black gays and lesbians sat down. (It's like God said "Today is your birthday Fab, have good one". You too G-man, you too) I was staring at them and commenting with my black female twin and deciding which one was God's actual gift to me for the day. Our waiter, an adorable gay man, is a friend of mine and decided to slowly turn the music up louder and louder. And then it happened. Wobble Baby came on and all hell broke loose. Members of my brunch group got up and started dancing with members of the attractive black brunch. It was a dream come true...we turned a normal boozy brunch into a club. 

Shit got weird then...and also a little hazy. I might've had a dance off with someone who was a much better dancer than me. And by "might have" I mean I did. I dropped it low in front of all of my friends, all of the much better dancers, and the entire restaurant. Now, I can't say this for sure, but I am 90% sure that I lost that battle. Horribly. (I'm 100% sure of that, actually. #familyshame) I also danced with a very butch lesbian for awhile...I think I was mildly attracted to her. She pulled off butch very well. It was very confusing. (Ughhh I don't wanna talk about it. Am I bi? WHO AM I? hahaha jk lolz I like the wang-a-lang.)

After I had embarrassed myself enough, some of us decided that 4+hrs of drinking mimosas like they were going extinct wasn't enough. We (Read also: Me, myself, and I) decided to go to Nellies, everybody's favorite gay sports bar. They have rooftop drinking and it was gorgeous out. The issue is...at some point on the walk from Local 16 to Nellies I begin to lose my memories (Read also: Mimosas got the best of me). You know, cause its classy to drink away your memories at 2 in the afternoon on a SUNDAY. 

(I really don't wonder why I am single anymore. You shouldn't either Lilo)

I decide to come out of my hazy time traveling state near the end of our stay at Nellies in time to save One Direction from being escorted off by a gentleman caller. You see, One Direction is very straight but he was also very black out. When I stopped this gentleman from taking 1D into his cab...shit got real. Like rullll real. (All I can remember is that this guy was wearing Teal Cutoffs...so that shall be his name)

Teal Cutoffs: Honey, you need to back off, he is coming home with me. 

Me: Ugh, no he isn't. He doesn't even know his name...do you even know his name?

Teal Cutoffs: I don't need to know his name. 

Me: As classy as that is, he isn't going home with you. He isn't even gay.

Teal Cutoffs: Um, he can make that choice. 

Me: He does...on the reg. Just go back inside and find yourself some new blacked out person to trick home. 

Teal Cutoffs: Bitch, YOU NEED TO STOP BEING IN LOVE WITH YOUR BEST FRIEND

Me: Holy fuck, was the yelling necessary. I am not in love with him...Im just saving him from your creepy ass. Watch this...Hey One Direction, do you wanna go home with me?

One Direction: Yes.

Me: Ok, now your turn. Ask 1D.

Teal Cutoffs: Don't you wanna come home with me?

One Direction: Yes. 

Me: SEE....all he heard from that was "home." We are leaving now

And then that skank-a-licious queened up hooker had the audacity to come up behind me as we were walking to the cab and SHOVE me with all his girlie powers. 

(I know, right Obama?)

I don't do well with this. I am the nicest person in the world until you cross me or try and fight me. See in college people would say crap to me at the bars or at parties for being gay and didn't think I would do anything about it. But, here's the thing, I have no problem punching back, like noooo problem at all. So I spun around and with every fiber in body I shoved this over-sexed man. He stumbled back in complete and utter shock.

Teal Cutoffs: Whoaaa. YOU WANNA GO?

Me: NO! You shoved me. Go back inside and find some helpless twink. And don't touch me again...I don't need any STD's today. 

Now, I understand that doesn't make sense because touching doesn't get you STD's, but I was trying to spew venom and I was still intoxicated. We eventually made it back to One Directions place and then I blacked out again and don't remember much until the next morning. Monday was one of the worst days of work ever, but I had an AMAZING Boozy Birthday Brunch so it was all worth it in the end. 

Cops: Busting Pajama Parties in a neighborhood near yours.

Boozy Brunch: The best thing since...actually its better than sliced bread. Its just the best

Fabulously Lost: Convict, Fighter, Protector: The next Liam Neeson

Just Your Average Phoebe Buffay...

You know how how it always seems like there is some sort of formula that goes into making a successful T.V. show? Friends was always one of my favorite shows and it is one of the most formulaic shows out there. You have the neurotic one, the sarcastic one, the beautiful one, the dumb one, the nerdy one, and the kooky weird one. The reason it works so well is because everyone connects with one of the characters, and up until recently I thought, for sure, that I was the sarcastic one. I thought I was Chandler. I wanted to be Chandler. Unfortunately, I just figured out I'm more of a Phoebe.

I discovered this a couple weeks ago when I was taking stock of my life as I flitted between DC, VA, and Baltimore. I was planning my weekends and focusing on boozy brunches, bar crawls, and birthday extravaganza's. All of my events revolved around my single friends and our mutual singledom. Then I received a wedding invitation from a good friend of mine from H.S. and was given the opportunity to bring a date. (HAHAHA...a plus one is a lovely thing...or a reason to sign up for more therapy sessions.) It's then that I started to realize that maybe I wasn't Chandler anymore. 

A couple days later the same friend invited me over to dinner at his new townhouse outside of Baltimore. I was a bit hesitant at first, mainly because I found out it was going to be my friend, his fiance, our other best friend from high school, her husband, and me. It was at that point that I realized that I am the Kooky Drunk Single Friend.

(Sorry guyz....this may be me)

Now, you may be asking what it means to be the KDSF (I feel like the abbreviation is what you would find in a "personal ad"...I'll take it?). Basically it means that you have to have crazy drunken tales, go on outrageous dates, have many failed but humorous relationships, and be a generally unreal person. See, I constantly forget that I am the KDSF because I hang out with so many other KDSF (you know who you are...drinks this weekend?). Just when I am forgetting, I am smacked with that reality when Married Friends ask to hang out and go to dinner or do other Married Friend things. (These things aren't different than doing things with single friends, but they are usually done in pairs....and I am not a pair). 

Being a gay KDSF brings a whole different angle to this normal dynamic. Back in the day, Sex in the City did a whole episode on how difficult it was to be the single friend when you were surrounded by tons of other couples. When you are gay though, there is extra scrutiny put on you because you are far more fascinating...you are like a fucking unicorn. Now, don't get me wrong, I love being the unicorn (literally and figuratively). If you haven't noticed, I love being the center of the conversation with undivided attention. It's because people, especially Married Friends, don't normally have gay single (or coupled) friends who come over with stories. It's all the more interesting....I guess. 

Anywhoz, (Almost) Married Friends invited me over for a dinner and I knew I was going to be the only single one. I had to prepare myself and think of good stories to tell and also make sure I didn't come across like my life was too much of a mess...(surprisingly hard to do). 

I made my way to their house (fashionably late... and actually early in gay time) with a bottle of wine in hand and my thoughts on trying to be a classy gentleman. As soon as I  arrived, the idea of being classy went out the door. You see, the last time I had hung out with all of them I had decided not to drink and just relax. I was chastised and they were genuinely disappointed in my lack of alcohol consumption. I thought I could get by on my winning good looks (HA!) and personality, but it turns out I am wildly more entertaining after a few glasses of wine. 

So I sat down and was immediately handed a glass of wine and they began asking me questions about life. 

Married Friends: So, tell us about everything? What's going on? Who are you bringing to the wedding? Are you dating anyone?

Me: WHOA! Third degree! I am bringing British Cowgirl. I am single and mingling right now. No special lad for this guy. 

Married Friends: Ugh, tell us stories. Are you not drunk enough?

Me: I can be fun without alcohol! 

Married Friends: Yeah, but more fun with it! 

(btw British Cowgirl went to h.s. in England and thinks she is a country girl because she is attracted to cowboy type men...there is no joke, just facts. It's becoming contagious...)

They didn't say that exactly, but it was implied....it.was.IM.PLIED. They guilted me into having another glass of wine before the male half of the engaged couple, and the one who was my h.s. friend, decided to challenge me. 

Engaged Friend: I drank more than you last time, I can drink more than you this time. 

Me: You don't want to do this, you really don't. 

Engaged Friend: No, seriously! What has happened to you? I can definitely drink more than you, I went to college. 

Me: When was the last time you got drunk?

Engaged Friend: I don't know...I don't keep track of that. 

Me: Oh, well, I got drunk 2 days ago. I think I can hold my own. 

Engaged Friend: Then lets go for it.

And that was the beginning of the end. We went drink for drink. We went from wine to rum. Before we knew it the night was over. We had laughed our way through most of dinner as I recounted my unreal, but very true life stories and my life as a part-time serial dater. The actual Married Friends had to leave around 1030/11 and the drinks kept flowing, then out of nowhere Engaged Friend hit a wall. He began getting violently ill and continued to do so for about an hour and a half. Somewhere in all of that I passed out on the floor and was generously woken up and shown the way to the guest bedroom. 

As I slipped out the next morning and drove home, I began thinking about how easily I had fallen into the KDSF ways. I wasn't disappointed in any of it, I had an amazing time and wouldn't mind doing it again. Although, I think I am still trying to figure out how to transition into becoming one of the coupled friends and move out of this Kooky Drunk Single Friend role that I have perfected. Until that happens, I think I will continue out drinking Married Friends and living this ridiculous thing called life...because everything is more fun when you are living life looking for your next adventure.

Fabulously Lost: You can call me Princess Counsuela Banana-hammock 

Married Friends: A riot in their own way...and terrible at drinking contests 

Friends: Best show from the 90s