New Year's Eve...Eve?

Let's start this post with me telling you what rabbit hole I have jumped into this evening as I write. I am prone to finding a musical artist, YouTube performer, Twitter tweeter, or Facebook enthusiast and really becoming obsessed with them. I mean, I have read Twitter feeds like they were novellas, feeling like they have become good friends of mine. I've watched a YouTuber's entire videography, and I have listened to many musical performers entire discography. (Thank little baby Jesus for Spotify — the musical artist piece used to be REALLY expensive. Woof.) 

I start to champion for these people in my daily conversations, telling everyone about how funny or talented they are. I find myself trying to figure out how to bring them up in conversation without it being too weird. I obsessively check to see if they have made any updates, wanting a good chuckle or a new song. These obsessions last anywhere for a week to six months, depending on the feedback I get from my peers. (Obviously, I can't like things unless everyone also likes them — what is this 1954?? Not sure why I chose 1954... shhh... just go with it.)

Right now, in this moment, my current obsession happens to be the one, the only... Ashlee Simpson!

(Too many gifs to choose from, too little time.)

So, what does this have to do with you? Absolutely nothing. It means that I am currently writing this while listening to every song Ashlee has ever blessed us with. I also didn't want this to be the only one to know this. I can die in peace now. 

Judgey Reader: What the hell? I am really confused. 

Me: Um, I am not really sure what is confusing, this seems really straightforward...

Judgey Reader: But, what does this have to do with anything? I came here looking for a story. 

Me: OH! OK! SO ALL I AM GOOD FOR IS A STORY? I can't shaaaare with you something that happens to be on my mind??

Judgey Reader: That's not what I am saying, I was just... I don't know. I came here because you told me you would post on Wednesdays. 

Me: And here I am, posting on a Wednesday, and somehow that's not good enough for you. You're really full of it. Thanks for making a guy feel special. 

Judgey Reader: I don't mean to be rude, but does this mean I don't get a story?

Me: Well, to be honest, I thought about not telling you a story, but Ashlee Simpson happens to be inspiring me. So, you know, thank her. 

(This is how I feel after you guys and I sometimes have fights that I make up. I feel like singing about you knowing me. Too well.)

OK, OK, now it's time to tell you all a little diddy about my last couple of days of 2013. In a random turn of events, I decided that I wanted to change up my NYE plans a little bit. I have never been one for the bar scene on that night (shocking, I know), so I have always done it up big at a house party in Baltimore. It is literally the perfect combination of cheap libations, yummy food, and amazing friends. So, what could pull me away from the trifecta from heaven? New. York. City.

(Not even close to the gif I wanted, but it's so accurate. Well done, Karen. Well done.)

While NYE 2014 was a blast and a half, it was actually New Year's Eve Eve that ended up being a ridiculously amazing night. I had arrived in NY on the 27th to travel around Long Island to see family and celebrate some holiday. (JUST KIDDING! WE CELEBRATED CHRISTMAS!) Mama and Papa Fab were kind enough to bring me into the city and enjoy several mimosas over brunch with one of my fav gal pals, Swifty! (No, no, I don't feel good about saying gal pal.)

The next day, Swifty and I headed to our NY office to spend the day casually answering emails and pretending to work. We were torn about what to do with the eve eve of the New Year. The impending "biggest party of the year" was daunting and persuading us to try and have a calmer evening. On top of all of that, Glitter, our other BFFL and my fellow companion of all things bright and shiny, wasn't able to come into the city until the next day. 

While mulling over our options, out of left field, Broadway, my obnoxiously talented, obnoxiously younger, obnoxiously skinnier gay BFFL, came over and requested we do a bar crawl on Christopher Street. For those who don't know, that is quite possibly one of the gayest streets in the world. There is only one way to explain how I felt about this, and I must do it with a photo. 

(Annnnnd, he's back.) 

After a battle royale with Swifty about going back uptown to drop off bags and have dinner, I finally won. Because duh. We went back uptown, consumed Dominos (don't ask), drank a couple Red Bull-vodkas (affectionately named RBVs... as affectionate as you can be about alcohol), and made our way back down to Pieces for $3 drinks and to wait for Broadway. On this fine evening, Pieces had a drag queen throwing shade while watching a movie — surprisingly entertaining and the perfect way to get liquored up before heading to our next bar. 

Broadway has a notoriously low tolerance and is one of my favorite people with which to consume adult beverages. He also knows these bars like the back of his hand, so it made this bar crawl all the more fun. He kept saying that there was a bar he had to take me to, but first we went over to the iconic Stonewall Inn. Unfortunately for us, Stonewall was having a weird drag bingo night and was not on our level of ridiculousness. So, we took a shot, like one should before leaving a bar, and moved onto the next homo hang out. 

At this point Swifty, Broadway, and I had had... a couple beverages. We were loving life, loving each other, and loving everyone around us. Broadway started talking about how much he needed to sing Suddenly Seymour at some point in the evening. Because theatre homo. He still had to take me to this other bar that was perfect for me before we went somewhere where he could sing, but first he we needed to hit up a couple more places. We ended up heading over to Boots & Saddle, a little hole-in-the-wall gay bar on Christopher Street. When we walked in the door, we were met with a beautiful drag queen (notice a theme...) who was lip-syncing for her life on stage. Broadway and I lost it when she started singing "Brave" by the flawless Sara Bareilles.

                                 

Before long, it was time to move onto the next stop on our rainbow bar crawl. It was finally time for Broadway to take me to the bar that was "perfect" for me. As we approached the outside of The Hanger, Broadway got more and more excited, hyping it up. As soon as we walked in, Broadway said, "THIS IS FOR YOU!" I made the very astute observation that this happened to be a predominantly black gay bar. Heaven. 

 

(But, actually.)

I was surrounded by all of these beautiful men, and I had all of the liquid confidence in the world. I didn't even need another beverage. Broadway was so unbelievably right — this bar was perfect for me. We found a group of men standing closer to the back and began having light conversations with them. One of the men caught my fancy, we shall call him Bad Boy. (This seems awkward but it will feel so right so soon) Bad Boy and I began talking and he pulled me closer to the wall away from the group. Like any classy 'mo on New Year's Eve Eve, I macked it with him for a little before being pulled away by the group to go to our next spot. As I am getting pulled away, Bad Boy decided to whisper sweet nothings to me. 

Bad Boy: I'd like to see you later.

Me: Come with us! Bar crawl!! 

Bad Boy: I'm going to stay here with my friends, you should stay here. 

Me: But then it wouldn't be a bar crawl and I don't live here. All of this seems silly. 

Bad Boy: Oh, you don't live here? Let me get you're number. I'm going to send you a text, you better text me later tonight. 

Me: Um, OK!

Bad Boy: If you're a good boy, I have a place for you to sleep tonight. *winks, slaps my ass*

Me: Oh, dear.

                                                  (I knew it was time to go. Oh, did I ever.)

The next bar on the list was made for Broadway — it was across the street from The Hanger and it was a... Daddy bar called Ty. (I don't explain what that is in the Gay Urban Dictionary, but it reminds me I should do a Part 2.) Basically, this bar has lots of older gay men who enjoy the company of younger gay men... just like Broadway. As soon as we walked in, he and Swifty made their way to a group of men by the bar. This, however, is not my cup of tea, so I plopped down at the end of the bar and ordered a beverage so I could digest what had just happened with Bad Boy. 

As I enjoyed my beverage, I noticed a lovely young looking Hispanic man sitting to my right. We began to chat it up, and before long we were macking it at the bar. (Listen, this was sooo 2013. I was getting it all out before classin' it up in 2014!) We would stop every so often to talk a little more. We will call him, Baseball Boy. (His last name was Canseco, so, obviously, I brought up Jose Canseco. He was not amused but still macked it with me. Win/win?)

Baseball Boy: So, how old are you?

Me: 25, you?

Baseball Boy: I'm 21.

Me: Maybe we don't say that ever again. Shhhh...

I realized, in that moment, I was "Daddy" status for him. I played the awful game, in my head, of "Where was Baseball Boy when I was... ?" This lasted for a minute or two before I decided to say "fuck it" and go with the flow. After all, that is how most people celebrate New Year's Eve Eve, right?!?! 

A few minutes after this conversation, my mack session was interrupted with the high-pitched noises coming from Broadway. Apparently, one of the Daddies had called him "chubby" as he took off his jacket. You'd think at that age, they would know never to call a gay man "chubby," especially when they are not chubby at all. While I tried to console Broadway, Swifty used this opportunity to swoop in and talk to Baseball Boy. 

Swifty: I see you talking with Fabulous, he's great, isn't he?

Baseball Boy: Yeah! He's really cute, I like him!

Swifty: He's a really great guy, and I just want to make sure that you are going to treat him well. He's a real catch, you're really lucky. 

Baseball Boy: Uh, yeah, I will. 

Swifty: I mean it, treat him well. He deserves the best. 

Baseball Boy: I promise I will...

But... but... why??? I found out about this conversation the next day while we were eating brunch. It didn't need to happen — I had known Baseball Boy for a total of 25 minutes, and we had talked a total of 5 minutes before I told him we didn't need words. Swifty is always looking out for me, even with casual mackin' it partners.

After I calmed Broadway down, we decided it was time to continue our bar crawl. Baseball Boy decided to tag along, which was good for me. My track record was getting a little out of hand — I didn't want to try and find someone else to mack with. I wanted to end the evening with a little bit of dignity... just a little.

We ended up finishing our crawl up at Duplex Cabaret Theatre, where Baseball Boy and I only came up for air when Broadway made his way to the front of the bar and finally saing Suddenly Seymour... bringing down the entire house. Swifty and I discussed our never-ending jealousy of his talent and how we would have been booed off stage if we tried to do that.

Baseball Boy and I exchanged numbers before we both hopped in cabs going in different directions. We still occasionally text, knowing that this little love affair has run its course. 

Swifty: Extremely protective wingwoman 

Broadway: Young, talented, and definitely not chubby. (Yes, I do hate him for all of these things)

Bad Boy: Not getting this good boy 

Baseball Boy: Young and restless 

New York City: Holder of my heart, my dreams, and my dignity

Fabulously Lost: Makeout whisperer 

Black Bieber: I'm a Blieber?

My life in the last couple months has been in shambles (more than usual, jerks) and I use my weekends as my time to let loose on a lot of the frustrations I have. My wonderful friends have been supportive and have let me crash on their couches and in their beds (mostly girls...mostly...). This past weekend was no different though it was a bit more shamble-y than normal. On Friday I found myself enticed with Black Bieber, and I am not really ashamed.

(ok...maybe I'm a little ashamed...)

I'd like to first provide you with a little context of how I met Black Bieber and how this night came about. Full disclosure....I have a girlfriend. I know, I know it's shocking. How can this flaming homosexual have a girlfriend? How does she not know he is gay? IS there something wrong with her? Well, to sort of answer that,  she is one of my original friends from college and we became a couple in a moment that I remember vividly, and she remembers in theory. It was a August 27th, 2007 and we had just moved into our residence hall at UMD. It was 1:30am when there was a knock at my door and there was girlfriend and her roommate, mistress (this will make sense in a minute... actually, it won't but whatevs) completely and totally drunk. 

mistress: We like that you are gay

girlfriend: I want you to be my gay boyfriend

mistress: And I want to be your mistress

Me: Doesn't sound like I have much of a choice do I?

girlfriend: Nope, not really *Lunges forward and kisses me*

*mistress then lunges forward and full on makes out with me*

And ever since then girlfriend and I have celebrated our month anniversaries as little accomplishments. It's sad that this is the longest and healthiest relationship either one of us has ever been in. (I know, I know its a shocker...maybe I should have "chosen" to be straight. I seem to be more successful...) This past Friday was our 56th month anniversary and we decided to celebrate it the best way we know how...with drinks at a gay sports bar followed up by dancing at a gay club. (girlfriend is secretly a gay man on the inside, she prefers to hit up ze gay bars. This may be why she is single, verdict is still out on why I am still single....ok, ok we all obviously know why I am still single, rude.)

We had dinner at Nellie's (the gay sports bar in DC where I am 90% certain no one gives a fuck about the sports on the screens. They are there for "kitschy" decorations, which is a stereotype I embrace) with an old friend from college to catch up. It was a fairly long dinner where shots were taken and men were stared at. At the end of dinner I was exhausted and girlfriend and I were both yawning, but I had promised some of my gay DC friends I'd make an appearance at a birthday party down the street and I am nothing if not a people pleaser. 

When we got there we were immediately ushered over to the drinks table and my friend Erik made me the strongest drink known to man and convinced us to make our way back to Nellies for a drank. I was so tired and wanted to go back home and sleep, but I felt obligated to go at least for one drink. (I know, shocker, I feel obligated to drink.) In my mind I kept saying to myself: 

I had to get my shit together so I could show girlfriend a night full of glitter, rainbows, and happiness. When we got to Nellie's we ordered a drink and a shot and I decided to put my head into the game and work it out. I was always told not to be a quitter (I am not sure my parents meant this for drinking, but at least I am applying the things I learned. baby steps...) When everyone decided to go to Town (big, gay, sweaty dance bar) we decided our night had not run its course yet and went along with them. As soon as we got in we grabbed drinks and listened to a little Britney Spears. After getting a little liquored up we made our way upstairs to the main dance area. It was packed and we were finally in the right state to be up there. We found our friends and began dancing our hearts out. 

Slowly we started noticing our friends disappearing and before long it was just the two of us surrounded by a sea of men and some women. (haha...seamen..semen...haha I'm 12) girlfriend was hit on multiple times by various lesbians tryna get a little piece of her Armenian lovin'. Like any good friend she wasn't focused on making a lesbian connection, we were focused on each other and the beats that were taking over our bodies. And then it happened, a gorgeous 6'2" black man walked up to girlfriend and began talking to her. 

GB(gorgeous black man): Hey are you two....together?

girlfriend: Nope just friends dancing

GB: Do you mind if I step in and dance with him?

Without words girlfriend started to walk away and letting him know that it was a-okay to dance with me. My heart stopped. I wasn't able to process everything that was going on. He sauntered closer to me and we began dancing furiously to the beat and holding each other closer and closer, both a little hot and bothered in this room that had become a sauna. And then....then he kissed me. 

Maybe because I have been on so many dates with white dudes recently, but this felt like home. The saying is true...once you go black, you don't go back. It just felt right. Obviously, the classy guy that I am, I danced and macked it with him for awhile before thinking about checking on girlfriend, who had so graciously sacrificed herself so I could get a little lovin'. Just as I turn around I find her dancing with an attractive, shirtless, black man. Turns out he is GB's friend who had been really into girlfriend. (Is this really happening? Is this random night turning into a love connection? IS HE GOING TO BE MY BOYFRIEND???? i have issues I need to work through obviously....)

After a little bit more mackin' it GB  told me he had to go to the bathroom with his friend and he didn't want me to leave (so sweet, our first date is turning out so great! shhh, just let me have this) He gave me his number just in case I couldn't find him. (omgz its so serious guyz! preppin' to meet the fam next where they tell me I am what GB has needed for so long) girlfriend and I gab about the hotties we have bagged and how wonderful and glittery this night has been. How stupid were we to think that we should have gone to sleep instead of going out and meeting my husband! (yup...marriage is always on the mind. suck it) 

When they got back, the two gorgeous men pulled us up on stage and I started immediately mackin' it with GB so everyone in the club would know the man I was with. (I felt like a dog peeing on a house..this is MY man bitches, get in line! muhahaha) I decided at this point it may be a good idea to find out a few of the essentials...like his name.

Me: Sooo do you live around here?

GB: Oh, uh, yeah kinda. Not far. 

Me: Cool, so interesting! What do you do for a living? Are you an accountant, financial advisor, work for the government? (I had decided he worked as a lobbyist on the hill...)

GB: Uh well I am in school right now. Just studying away!

Me: Thats cool too, some people take some extra time to graduate. Are you a fifth or sixth year senior? Not that it matters! (I had now decided he was supporting his whole family while going to school! So noble! )

GB: Nope I go to community college, its my first year *Kisses me before I can say anything*

Me: Did you just get a late start to school? I know a lot of people who go back later. (I had now decided he had tried to start his own business when he left h.s. and that to make it a bigger business he wanted to get a college degree....so many excuses)

GB: Errr..no. I didn't take any time off

Me: Sooooo.....how old are you?

GB: My friend and I are both 18.

WHAAAAATTTTTTTT?!?!?! Nooooooooooooo!!!!!!! This isn't happening to me! It can't happen! I'm dying. This is what death feels like. I finally find an attractive, beautiful, black man and he is 18. I am almost 6 years older than him. I felt dirty. I felt wronged. I felt like the end of the world had just happened. I pulled on his hand and saw massive "X's" and I couldn't begin to process these emotions. Luckily for me GB and his shirtless friend needed to go to the bathroom, again telling me not to go anywhere. I turned to girlfriend and told her of our predicament, and do you know what she did? Do you know how she handled my heartbreak? She laughed. A lot. A loud hardy laugh. And kept saying "At least I didn't make out with mine" RUDE. We bolted out of the club before they got back and immediately got into a cab. On the way home we discussed all the reasons why this age difference was wrong.

1. When we entered college, they were entering 7th grade

2. When we were having our first drinks, they were discussing the SAT's

3. A majority of photos in this post won't make sense to them 

4. By the time they could legally drink, we will be closer to 30 than I'd like to admit

5. They probably know all the teletubby names 

6. THEY WERE BORN IN THE MID-90s

girlfriend just kept repeating that I had found my Black Bieber. And I will admit, if this tall attractive black man had been a multi-millionaire, my list of reasons why it shouldn't happen would go out the door. BUT, thats not what happened and instead I am left feeling like "To Catch a Predator" is waiting outside my door at all times. 

(This is the photo we left for the cabby on our way home...)

Fabulously Lost: Heartbroken and possibly wanted by Chris Hansen 

girlfriend: Still my only healthy relationship

Black Bieber: Too hot too trot, and still 18

Town: Where my dignity might be in the lost and found