Saturday, March 20, 2010

Hooked On A Feeling

My job affords a variety of weird and wonderful experiences. Yes, the constant emails reminding me how fat and ugly I am are not the most pleasant aspect of the job. But despite my complaints that I hate everyone, most of the listeners I have met have been very nice and respectful. And we do get to travel a lot (Next month: Phoenix Pride!) which has allowed me to see places I wouldn’t normally go. And speaking of places I wouldn’t normally go: tonight was The Hookies at Club Rebel.

Award shows are in and of themselves silly events. Certainly it is always nice to be an award winner but in the grand scheme of things, it isn’t what I would call important. Maybe it is because there is an award for practically everything now. I am reminded of Goldie Hawn snapping at Bette Midler after her sacred Golden Globe is mocked in First Wives Club: “What did you ever win? A pie eating contest? Best suggestion?” The Hookies award the best escorts through popular voting. Now, I ask you, how do you even go about ranking escorts? I can’t imagine anything more personal and, therefore, insanely subjective. One of the categories was “Best Boyfriend Fantasy” and the winner looked like he might beat the living crap out of you. I don’t know about you but domestic violence isn’t necessarily my idea of a dream date.

The nice people at asked me if I wanted to be a presenter and never one to turn down any opportunity to be seen in public, I jumped at the chance. As I said when I stepped up on the stage, “I am so honored to be one of the presenters here tonight. A veritable ‘who’s that?’ of New York gay society.” The category they gave me to present in was “Best Ass” which was kind of awkward. They have “Best Top” and “Best Ass,” not “Best Bottom” as if you are no more than the sum of your hole. While that is often true (and you know who you are), I still think the category was too narrow and needed to be widened a bit. Perhaps with one or two fingers.

I only knew one of the nominees in my category personally: Tory Mason the eventual winner (in a tie with Alex Baresi). As I declared from the stage explaining Tory’s win, “everyone knows that crazy pussy is hot pussy.” In solidarity for my category, I wore my “Pussy Wagon” t-shirt from Kill Bill, recently revived by Lady Gaga and Beyonce in the “Telephone” video that is blowing up this week on I thought it would be a big hit but no one made the connection. I had planned to yell from the stage, “Bitch stole my car! I’m gonna sue her for $30 million!” but after sensing the crowd’s non-reaction I thought better of it.

People seemed to like my jokes from the stage and I seemed to be the only one there doing material, including the emcee Raven O who mostly writhed around to a couple of dance songs and co-emcee Sherry Vine who stood somewhat dazed as if someone had just slapped her across the face with a baggie of cocaine and then didn’t offer her any. As I climbed on stage, Sherry greeted me warmly, like an old friend. We’ve never met. Coming off the stage, I ran into Brandon Baker, for whom I made a nasty crack on stage about his ex-boyfriend. I might have yelled out to the crowd that I needed to look inside the hole of the Best Ass winner to see if his ex was in there because “he’s a huge turd.” Michael Lucas was waiting in the dressing room off stage and that surprised me. “I didn’t know you were coming! If I had I would have made a joke about you on stage.” Michael seemed genuinely disappointed. Well as close to genuinely anything as I have ever seen.

Later as I was making my rounds saying good bye I ran into him again with Mr. Pam and the Lucas PR guy who was drunkenly waving one of the awards and kept throwing his arm around the unsuspecting and screaming “we won best duo.” Me included. We’d never met before either. “I’m having a wonderful time.” Michael purred dryly, the word "wonderful” stretching out longer than the Director’s Cut of the last Lord of the Rings movie. I know the feeling. A room full of escorts and the men who love them is a fascinating mix, but for just for a moment. And after one am, that moment had passed.

On the stairs, I passed blogger Ken of Kenneth In The 212 who earlier in the day had emailed me somewhat perplexed after he discovered his site was the top destination for the nonsensical search string "Derek Hartley nude photos." Speaking of nude photos, I tried in vain to find Drew Cutler on my way out. We had a nice time hanging out in the VIP holding bin before I went on stage but I didn’t see him after that. Ryan Raz is right, he is a good guy. Or at least he seemed so from our grabby conversation in the crowded and loud bar. He told me he wanted to hang out the next time he is in NYC and he took my number but porn is transitory and it is best to keep things moving and not get attached, lest things become ossified and unpleasant. Speaking of which, I saw a notorious porn panderer in his same tired white dinner jacket as I came in. “Nice to see you,” I said BEING GENUINELY POLITE as we made eye contact. “Not nice enough to have me on your radio show!” he snapped after I had already walked away, though not quite out of earshot.

I did not come to The Hookies to make love or make war, so in a way I guess I succeeded on both counts by walking out alone and unsullied. I do like the attention from the stage or from my radio show that I receive, even when it doesn’t always work out the way I want, but it is an unstable high for which you really don’t want to develop an addiction. Awards feel so meaningful when you get them, or even don’t get them, but in the end they are just a hunk of glass or metal on a wooden pedestal. Porn stars and escorts and parties are the same way. It can feel like the real thing, but that’s just the magic of the moment. The anticipation of it all is the best part. So live in the moment and revel in it, but don’t linger. The fantasy doesn’t last forever, David, and in order to hold onto it, you have to literally lose your grip on reality.

Let it go.

1 comment:

Sherry Vine said...

I usually greet everyone warmly and try to be considerate to everyone until they do something stupid and rude, as you have done in your blog. Maybe you're not used to kindness, hence your intense bitterness. Next time I'll remember not to greet you warmly. Maybe if you weren't so bitter your "jokes" would have gone over better. I clearly remember (and I was clear that night because i had not done any coke, thank you) commenting on how much I loved your shirt - yes, I got it. I was probably standing there dazed because like you I was wondering if the audience had a pulse. But good luck with all your endeavors. Sherry Vine