Wednesday, May 28, 2008

Rocking Horses Can't Be Broken

It was a night for exceedingly attractive people.

Jeremy Blacklow was in town and even dropped by the show for a bit. Romaine was in a foul mood tonight and had no patience for our gay shenanigans. No matter. I knew there would be plenty of that after the show. Jeremy is a dreamboat whom I first met some years ago at Bowery Bar when he appeared as if by magic from kickboxing class, his arms glistening with sweat, his hands still taped up. It was the kind of entrance not easily forgotten.

Of course I met Jeremy through Matty Kelleher, who is the Kevin Bacon of gay life in New York (Dennis Hensley is the Kevin Bacon of gay life in Los Angeles). If you know Matty, you are never more than six degrees away from any other gay man in Manhattan. Matty is insanely adorable and likable and winning. And he really does know everyone. His inner circle is extremely small (and hates me because I am loud and undignified), but the outer rings extend across continents.

Originally, we all planned to go to Bowery Bar tonight. It was where Matty met Jeremy and I met Jeremy, and where I met Zach. And even though "every asshole is there" as Jonathan so aptly put it tonight as he decamped to the cheap and empty confines of the Boiler Room, it is still after more than a decade, the beating heart of midweek gay life, even if the arteries are a bit clogged with nasty cholesterol.

But after the show, Matty was having a change of heart. They had just seen Cry Baby (awful) and wanted to eat, so they ran off to Rocking Horse, a restaurant down in Chelsea, with no intention of going to Beige after all. Unfortunately, Hottie Zach was planning to be there, as was DJ Ben Harvey. I could easily make new plans myself but I hate being the unreliable guy who switches everyone else's plans. As it turns out, all was fine. Zach met me at the Horse where we had some drinks while Jeremy and Matty finished their meals. The three of us told dusty stories of the good old days while Zach politely nursed a pair of Citron and lemonades.

Soon I convinced Jeremy, who then convinced Matty, that we should all go to Bowery Bar to see Ben Harvey after all. Moments later, we piled into a taxi and zipped across town. The dusty stories continued in the cab, mostly concerning who does and does not warrant a mention in my blog, and the ever meta topic of wondering aloud what part of the current evening I will blog about later.

Finally at Bowery Bar, we bypassed the line, the best part of going out on the town with Matty. He just doesn't believe in standing in line for anything, a conviction I firmly stand behind. Once inside, we saw all the usual suspects. The assholes were out in force. Spring makes them flourish like weeds although the weather was not quite warm enough yet for their worst tank top instincts. Ben was there with Dave Rubin and Dave's friend Yuki, who I apparently met the last time I was at Beige. I didn't remember meeting him but he sure remembered me.

"You have lost a lot of weight since I last saw you." was his greeting. My weight has not changed an ounce but for some reason people always remember me as fatter than I am. After leaving LA for a couple of years I came back to visit and someone said, "You've lost an enormous amount of weight." Enormous. Really? How fat did they think I was before? I promise my weight hasn't fluctuated more than twenty pounds in either direction since puberty. And yet, I am fondly remembered as the fat guy at the party I guess.

In the end, the best part of the night was spending a few quiet moments with Ben. We never get to talk and I really like talking with him. I feel (even though we haven't known each other for a long time) like we understand each other. There is a reason he is my most frequent blog character. I really like hanging out with him. He climbed into a cab and sped home while I decided it was a nice enough night for a walk uptown to the drunk train. On my way, he sent me a text message: "Sketchy gay cab driver! Asked where my bf (you) lived!" I was triumphant. It was outside the bar but finally someone at Bowery Bar was asking after me. As demented as it is, a little attention does make you feel better. Maybe not everyone at that dump is an asshole after all.

I'm kidding. Of course they are.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

"He just doesn't believe in standing in line for anything, a conviction I firmly stand behind."

I do like your humor. Stanton in Austin is not the only one that gets your jokes.
You and Romaine make a good team. As a lesbian, I can only take so much of the testosterone that builds up when she is gone and the guests you have are mostly male, BUT I think you make me giggle the most.
Trucker Christy from New Mexico