The Manor Borne

We had every intention of going to The Living Room tonight, but we ended up living it up at The Manor instead. Roommate and I are visiting South Florida for the weekend, to ring in the new year and escape the wintry breath blowing a seasonal mix of snow and misery down from the arctic. Here in Florida they are complaining about the sixty degree temperatures which feel like Christmas in July to us. Perspective is everything.

We had dinner with Howard and Gio and porn star Tristan Jaxx at Rosie's last night. Tristan is dancing on a box in a dark hole of a stripper bar that quite unappetizingly also serves food. Personally I wouldn't drink out of a glass there, but you know how highfalutin I am about these things in my cargo shorts, three year old sneakers and free t-shirt. While eating, we ran into Matthew Rush and his boyfriend, Gabriel.

After Howard, Gio and Tristan left to get ready for their night of stripping, Mike and I lingered in the Rosie's bar with Matthew Rush and Gabriel and all of their musclebound and bald friends. Matthew told embarrassing stories about his awkward encounters in public. First, when he thought a guy was stealing his french fries at the airport, and then it turned out, his fries were still in the bag and his giant arms had been helping themselves to the other man's fries. Then, he told a story about which he was appearing in a stage show and someone was hissing at him during the show. Livid, he complained about the rude audience backstage only to notice a man with an oxygen tank in the front row when he reluctantly returned to the stage for the second act.

Matthew was exhausted from his recent trip to Chicago and really wanted to go home, but his friends pressured him into one drink at The Manor. Since we had a good time there the night before, we decided to have one drink there too before heading off to The Living Room. As promised, Matthew and Gabriel left reasonably quickly but Mike and I ended up staying for the duration. Partially we were motivated by our favorite bartender Richard, who is as slim, toned and pretty as anything you have ever seen. As Spencer Tracy said in "Pat and Mike" of Katharine Hepburn: "Not much meat on her, but what's there is 'cherce.'"

Fortunately the elderly gentleman who tried to stick his tongue in my mouth just after midnight to celebrate the new year and ended up only licking my horrified lips wasn't there. But there were other kindly old men visiting in the bar with their sons and in one instance, possibly a grandson. As I told Mike, I want to date someone so ridiculously good-looking in 2010 that people are disgusted when they find out we are together. "See the look on my face when I see them together," I told him of one particularly odd couple, "That's what I want to see." More realistically, our real resolution will revolve around better diet and more exercise. I suppose in the end, I would rather have a ridiculous stomach than a ridiculous boyfriend.

The crowd was just so fun at The Manor, singing and dancing along, and the music was such a delightful mix of old and new, dance and hip hop, I found myself having just the best time. A pocket gay came up behind me to order a drink and I almost offered to give him a "daddy upsies" just so the bartender could see him. Later, his only slightly taller boyfriend showed up and we joked about taking one of them home, even though neither of them was tall enough to actually ride legally in the front passenger seat. But then they hit the dance floor and were amazing. So fun and free and really talented, we were captivated. Finally, as I promised myself I would do more of in the new year, I put aside my expectations and reservations and just had a good time, and let the enjoyment of the party wash over me. So even though we didn't go to The Living Room, it turned out there was plenty of room for living at The Manor.