Hocus Pocus: A Gay Halloween Story

Ho, Ho, Ho and a MERRRRYYYY....Halloween? (Well technically, at this point, it is the day after Halloween. Whatever, you get it.) Halloween is a time for children to walk up to stranger homes that they were previously told they were not supposed to walk up to, and ask them for candy, which they are normally never supposed to accept. It is a time for ladies and gentlemen to dress up in costumes they would never be caught in on any other night of the year. (except in the bedroom. *wink, wink* ughhh you're right #celibacy2012) And it is a night that I dread with every fiber of my being. Every. Fiber.

I know, I know, how can someone who loves this time of year as much as I do, dread one of the biggest holidays of the season? A lot of it revolves around the fact that I am terrible at coming up with ideas for costumes. I always choke and think of something super lame and predictable, it happens every year. When I was younger I stuck with two things I knew I could pull off...Vampire (I made it cool. Suck it Twilight) and Elvis (Because I could raise my lip in that weird way. Clever). When I got to college I realized that girls generally took off as much clothing as possible, while still covering the essentials, and guys were the counterparts to their girlfriends outfits. (Sexy Nurse/Doctor, Sexy Nun/Horny Priest, etc.). Well, I never had a girlfriend (duh) so I was left to come up with costumes on my own...and I was awful with it. My senior year of college I dressed up like the bouncers from my favorite bar....I put on a yellow shirt and shorts, that was it. (You know you drink too much when...).

Last year was my first year doing things with the gays for Halloween and it was the first year that I was mildly excited about the holiday. There was a big Heaven/Hell themed party at my favorite gay bar in Baltimore and I had a solid group of gays to go with. The only thing I struggled with was coming up with a costume that was both clever and mildly attractive (because I had high hopes for taking home a hot zombie). 

(Apparently sexy male zombies don't exist...so I found a vamp. #kissmeImirish)

As I racked my brain for this clever costume, I began to realize time was not on my side, mainly because I decided to wait until the day of the party to think of a costume. At the very last minute I decided to go to the hardware store around the corner from my townhouse and get a construction workers hat and a tool belt. If I was going to be something, I should at least make it as unbelievable as possible. (Halloween - where dreams come true). I was ecstatic that I finally had something and could  make my way over to  Gay Bffl's apartment, obviously with a hammer in my belt and my favorite jeans now ripped at the knee (I needed to make it look real? Ugh, I don't know what construction workers wear). When the door to his place opened (I was trying to look as butch as possible) I was greeted by the Gay Bffl and his boyfriend dressed up like a cowboy and a Native American. Not a big deal right? Well then I rounded the corner of the apartment and found my other friends dressed up like a cop and a biker. My gay friends, inadvertently, dressed up like the Village People. 

(I had a yellow hat on. Cause I'm authentic. I also had on a full shirt. Again, I'm authentic)

But, like, that is probably the gayest thing that has ever happened to me (shhh #celibacy2012). We weren't even trying to dress up like the gayest group of men out there...it just happened. We out-gayed ourselves, which I, honestly, didn't even think was humanly possible. After we all chuckled about it for a few minutes we ended up getting all sorts of schwastey before making our way to the club to dance and drink more in our accidentally coordinated outfits. 

The night was perfect. We danced a lot and I met an attractive "Go-Go Dancer" (it was his excuse to wear as little as possible) and macked it on the dance floor with him most of the night. After copious amounts of dancing and fun, my group pried me away from my new found love interest to take me home. (In retrospect, I still am annoyed at them for that.Ughhh he could go-go anywhere with me. Getttt itttt?). When we finally made it outside as a group, there were very few cabs and lots of sloppy drunk people in costumes trying to get into them. Since my group was so large we decided to split up; I was taking a group of the very drunk people and Gay Bffl was taking a group of the drunk people. FOOL PROOF PLAN, right? False. We didn't account for the other drunkards trying to get cabs. 

As I was about to step into the cab with my three drunk friends in the backseat, this little twink dressed as a fairy ran up to confront me. 

Fairy Twink: Excuse me, that's my cab. 

Me: Um, I am pretty sure those are my drunk friends in the backseat...so you're wrong.

Fairy Twink: We had it first.

Me: Again, I don't think ya did. You were nowhere near it when we got in. So...shew little fairy. 

Fairy Twink: Bitch, thats my cab.

That's when the little Fairy Twink took his cigarette and attempted to jab it into my neck.  We allll know, I don't deal well with people trying to attack me, but before I could smack this kids hand out of the way, Gay Bffl jumped in and did it for me. Before I knew it, there was a swarm of people by our cab and the cab driver was kicking us out because he saw a storm a-brewin'. 

Within moments this Fairy Twink's friends had formed a group and were starting to shove and push my group of 6. There was some pushing and some yelling in the middle of the streets, but it soon turned into mostly screaming. (mind you, there were cops not even a block a way just watching this whole thing unfold, good job Baltimore PD). Looking back on it now, we must have looked like we had just left the set of West Side Story: The Drag Queen's Edition. 

Then, out of nowhere, it was born...The Gay Clap...

 Now I have referenced gay clap before but this was the first real time that it made an appearance in my life. When the fighting moved from shoving to just screaming back and forth, Gay Bffl and I took it upon ourselves to yell louder than the rest to get our points across. 

Me: Shut *gay clap* the *gay clap* fuck *gay clap* up *gay clap*

Gay Bffl: Move *gay clap* the *gay clap* fuck *gay clap* along *gay clap*

These gays and girls were screaming some nonsense at us about the cab, but we kept saying the same thing louder and louder. At some point, Gay Bffl, turned and noticed that someone in their posse was filming the whole thing off into the distance. That, was obviously, unacceptable. Gay Bffl took it upon himself to go talk to the kid (and by talk, I mean he went and grabbed the phone out of his hands and started a confrontation)

Gay Bffl: What do you think you're doing dawg (we all butch up during fights apparently)

Spielberg: Yo, its a free country 

Gay Bffl: I'm pretty sure I didn't say you could film us. 

They went back and forth until the wonderful Baltimore PD decided to show up and break the fight up. Gay Bffl immediately turned to the cops and claimed that our little film director had stolen his phone. The cops looked around, and in a moment of racism at its finest, looked at me to provide some clarity because I was the only white person in this massive group street fight. 

     (Ugh...terrible...but good in this moment?)

Baltimore PD: Sir, what exactly is going on here?

Me: Uh...uh..That guy stole my friends phone! 

And like that, I had thrown this other guy under the bus. Gay Bffl took this as an opportunity to slowly begin ushering our friends out of this clusterfuck of terrible. The whole time the cops were searching the two people standing close to me, the group that had been previously screaming at my friends were now screaming at the cops. No one noticed that my friends had almost completely disappeared. 

One of the cops finally noticed that I was left standing alone in a sea of people who were definitely not fond of me. He looked around and then winked at me. 

Baltimore PD: Why don't we do this, if we find your phone we will give you a ring. You head out of here. 

Me: Sure sounds good. Keep up the good work.

I zoomed off to meet my friends around the corner and we left victoriously. We knew at the time how terribly twisted it was that the cops looked to me solely based on my race, but...it kinda worked out for us? (Don't worry, I have given back to the black community *wink, wink, nudge, nudge*)

This year, I decided to not partake in the shenanigans surrounding all hollows eve. Partly because costumes stress me out and partly because I'm lazy. Also, this past weekend, when I normally would have celebrated it all....I was stuck celebrating other peoples love. My Engaged Friend got married on Saturday, thus bringing him into the rank of "Married Friends", in a wonderful ceremony at a castle. (Feeling of Inadequacy: At an all time high). That same wonderful evening, in Baltimore, my practically married brother finally proposed to his lovely girlfriend of seven years. HOW IS THERE SO MUCH LOVE AROUND ME?!?! #single4lyfe (Side note: ugh, I'm actually happy for all of them)

Baltimore PD: Casually racist

Gay Bffl: My YMCA partner in crime...literally...crime

Married Friends: Multiplying....its like a zombie apocalypse

Fabulously Lost: Street Fighter, Nintendo style        

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