Happy Birthday Josh!

Josh is a NYC story. Beautiful man. Perfect body. Occasional Broadway dancer. Met him six years ago when he was a bartender at a new bar called Remote and I was trying my hand at club promotion. Luke from the bar brought me in to start a hot Tuesday night, two blocks away from Beige at Bowery Bar. Beige had been the hot Tuesday night for years and it was time for its moment to be over. Then on the launch night of my new Tuesday night, Britney and Justin showed up at Beige and, well let’s just say it is still the hot Tuesday night party in NYC. September 11^th helped seal the deal, compelling people to stick with what was old and comfortable in our changing times (Golden Girls reruns, M4M chat rooms, Beige) and my club promotion days ended just as quickly as they began.

Tonight, Josh invited me to his friend David Coleman’s apartment for an intimate birthday party. In the intervening years, Josh and I have kept each other on our respective party lists and if I don’t run into him infrequently running around town (read: in a gay bar), then this is our best chance to see each other. Of course I wanted to see Josh again, but it is worth mentioning that David has one of the most unique and sensational views from his apartment: straight up Park Avenue from Union Square looking up at Grand Central Station. It’s always worth a look. And it reminds me of all things fabulous in Manhattan.

I was last in David’s apartment in April, following a night out at Shag with Matty. That night, even Prince Charming was there (although things didn't turn out as Happily Ever After as one might expect). I fully expected to see Matty back there again and didn’t even bother sending him a TXT. I like to surprise Matt by appearing once each decade in just the right place at just the right time. No such luck. However, I did run into Luke from Remote, now six years later. Josh was the only person I thought I would know at the party, so it was nice to run into someone else with a familiar face. I had invited roommate (“You know how I love a party… so no.”), Ben Harvey (“I am at the MOMA being cultural. But maybe?”), and even D-A-N from Tuesday night(“Cool. David emailed me early. I’ll try to make it!), but alas, I ended up at the party alone.

Everyone was very nice although I managed to put my foot in it again. There was a guy at the party who looked kind of familiar but then again, all gay men seem kind of familiar on a certain level after you live in a city for six or seven years. Luke’s friend was musing out loud that even though the party said that it started at 9:30pm people didn’t really show up until eleven. “Broadway people,” I offered. “They don’t get off until 10:15, 10:30, so they can’t get to a party before 11:00pm.” The guy smiled and asked if I thought the newest arrivals were Broadway people. I pointed to the handsome man in the tight button down shirt over the tight body with the tight 30-something face. “He looks like Broadway people. That’s what they look like.” The guy smiled and later I realized as the conversation progressed that he was an actor (hence his familiarity) and probably a Broadway guy too, although I made no effort to lump him in that category. He got be back later though by offering that I might have a future in modeling: for J.C. Penney, perhaps with a briefcase by a hedge or sweeping small children into a minivan with one hand casually tucked into my khaki pants. “There are, you know, the models who are hot, and then there is a whole other category of models who are… well, attractive but not threatening.” Point taken.

Now that my life is more J.C. Penney than ever, I had to leave at the stroke of 11:45pm to make the 12:10am train home. Suburbia calls, and it’s long distance. Saw Corey Johnson on my way out. Luke said I hadn’t changed and of course he meant in the face where it counts, but I think I have changed in the last six years. Of course no one has changed more than Corey, sashaying from high school football star to "Miss Thang" with all of the ease and grace of water overflowing from a stopped toilet. Apparently REMOTE isn’t what it used to be either. “Don’t go there again,” Josh cautioned,” You’ll get shot now.” The Paramus TJ Maxx crowd that followed us was one thing, but I don’t need any holes in my wool/poly blend blazer. Life in Manhattan is fabulous but it isn’t worth dying for. And that minivan isn’t going to drive itself.