Robbie Fowler and I sing a Gaga song with a little GNR mixed in.
You and I
SaturDATE: I’ve Already Figured You Out
Sometimes people ask me on dates. They tend to go horribly. These are their stories.
(Law and Order Sound Effect)
Him: Come home with me.
Me: No. Do you think this sweater is too heavy for the springtime?
Him: Come on. Come home with me.
Me: No. It’s late and you’re drunk and I’m not and I’m tired.
Him: Come home with me. We’ve been flirting with each other for a long time now. Come on.
Me: No. 9 months is a long time?
Him: Come on. (hails a cab) Get in the cab.
Me: No. I’m going home.
Him: Yes.
Me: Okay fine.
(Montage: Snuggly cab ride. Surprised cab driver. Deli visit for food and beer. Fumbling with keys.)
Him: Do you want a beer? I’m having a beer.
Me: Yes. I’m going to start drinking at 3 am. Good idea.
Him: Great, I’ll open you one.
Me: No, wait. I changed my mind.
Him: Fickle.
Me: More like, sarcastic.
Him: I like that.
Me: I like you.
Him: I know.
Me: Don’t worry. I don’t get weird. I let things develop naturally. We’ll have two kids, one Korean girl named Ellen, and one African boy, named Sh’Africa.
Him: Sounds like you’re telling Africa to be quiet.
Me: I’m not. I like the names Sean and Africa. Sh’Africa. If anything, I think Africa should be louder.
Him: Why?
Me: All that suffering? Isn’t there a lot of suffering and economic inequality?
Him: I’ve never been.
Me: Me neither. I’m operating on what I’ve read in liberal news media and what I’ve seen in movies like Congo.
Him: Take your coat off.
Me: Certainly. I’ll just throw it on the floor here.
Him: You’re funny.
Me: You’re pretty.
Him: Make out with me.
(We do.)
Him: Take your shirt off.
Me: Yessir.
(We take our shirts off. Bitchin’ make out session.)
Him: Take your pants off.
Me: Yessir
(We take our pants off. Bitchin’ make out session.)
Him: Let’s get naked.
Me: How dare you. No, wait. I changed my mind again. That’s a great idea.
Him: Are you a bottom?
Me: What? Oh. Sex? Oh! Sex! Okay. Yes. No. I’m versatile. I’m the opposite of whatever your favorite thing to do is…
Him: Then you’re a bottom.
Me: I am indeed!
(We get naked. Bitchin’ make out session. Then, suddenly – he loses interest entirely. The evening goes limp.)
Him: I was afraid of this.
Me: What?
Him: I was afraid that this would happen. My penis stops working after a while.
Me: No! Stop it! It’s okay. Cut yourself some slack. You had a lot to drink. I watched you.
Him: No. What? No. I don’t have whiskey dick. Hahaha. No.
Me: What? No, you have six beers and three whiskeys dick.
Him: I have a thing that happens. Once I get someone naked and it’s obvious that I can sleep with them, I lose interest.
Me: Heh. You’re funny.
Him: Please don’t make fun of me. It’s a real problem.
Me: I was going to say, why don’t we just go to sleep and give it a shot in the morning.
Him: Ha. Right. No.
Me: What?
Him: I think you should leave now.
Me: WHAT?
Him: It’s like this. I already got you naked. You already said you’d give me what I want. It’s kind of like I’ve already figured you out. I’m not going to be interested anymore.
Me: What? Heh. Ha. I uh… hm…
(He starts putting on clothes. He starts handing clothes to me. I start putting on clothes.)
Him: Yeah. It’s best if you just go home.
Me: I’m much farther away from home now than when you talked me into the cab.
Him: I’ll call you a car. You should go home.
Me: No. I’ll take the train. I should never have come here.
Him: Oh stop. You had fun.
Me: Yeah it was a blast. You’re a real great host. Thanks for having me over.
Him: It’s a real problem, okay? I have a problem with sex. I’d appreciate some sympathy.
Me: Awww… Sweet baby… Hey. I’m going to say something – please don’t take it the wrong way, okay?
Him: Okay.
Me: You’re an asshole. I don’t mean like self-absorbed like me and my comedy friends. I mean for real. You’re a real, true, asshole. I’m going to leave my card.
Him: What is this?
Me: I want you to check out my site, but wait a few days…
Him: Why?
Me: Because when people act like assholes on dates with me, I put it on the internet. Is that my coat? Thanks.
Him: What?
Me: Yeah! You’re famous! Congrats! And hey.
Enjoy playing mind games with someone else.
Jerk.
(Surprise ending: I laughed about him the whole train ride home. I didn’t feel bad about myself.)
FriDATE
Him: So. Here we are.
Me: Yes. This is it.
Him: I feel like I’ve been here before. How long have you lived here? Did this apartment come with chalkboards up? This apartment is big for New York standards. I can’t believe I’m hanging out at PIEFOLK.
Me: It’s just my dirty kitchen. I’ve been here about 8 or 9 years. The chalkboard is just paint you can get at Home Depot.
Him: You painted it yourself??
Me: Yeah. Of course. What would you do?
Him: Hire someone. I dunno.
Me: Ha. That wasn’t an option. I was having some lean times when I painted these walls.
Him: Oh? What’s changed?
Me: Nothing.
Him: OH.
Me: I’m almost always nearly broke. It’s fun. Makes you live creatively.
Him: So what are we making? What is this? Sour cream? Why did you buy sour cream? Are these blueberries? This is the first time I’ve ever made anything. I never made food before.
Me: You’ve never made food before?
Him: We had a cook.
Me: Wow. You’re from a wealthy family.
Him: Not wealthy. Well off.
Me: If you say so. Sounds wealthy to me.
Him: Well I left. I didn’t want to do it. I couldn’t. Can I check my Facebook? What is that? What are you whisking? Is that butter? What’s this for? What are you doing with that yellow liquid? Is that egg? Who was that guy from last week with all the muscles? How tall are you?
Me: It’s butter. I’m 6ft. That guy was named Dan Paul. He’s a recording artist and a go go dancer.
Him: Ugh. NO WAY. I tried dating a go go dancer for a while. No thank you. They’re not suitable for dating. That’s not what they’re for.
Me: What are they for?
(pause)
Me: Can you tell me a little bit why it didn’t work?
Him: I just had a hard time with it. I would get resentful. He was always going out to get naked with other people.
Me: Doing his job?
Him: Yes. But I would get jealous.
Me: (laughs)
Him: What’s so funny?
Me: He was doing his job. The job he was doing when you presumably met him.
Him: So?
Me: It struck me as ironic. Your tone was all ‘don’t date go go boys.’ You said it pretty strongly, as if you were going to follow up with some sort of moral failing they have. But, you’ve only really listed your own flaw.
Him: Which is?
Me: Jealousy… Inability to accept him for who he is/what he does for a living. He was just doing his job.
Him: I guess so. Can I have a hug?
Me: Yes.
(I hug him for a while.)
Me: You’re pretty, and your skin is amazing.
Him: I bet you say that to all the boys.
Me: I do. I say it to every single one of them.
Him: That makes me feel so very special.
Me: So I’ve heard.
Him: From who?
Me: ‘All the boys.’ We have to finish these muffins.
Him: Hey, do you have an iPhone charger? Oh my God what type of music is this? Do you like pop music? Can I use your bathroom? Is there a mirror? What do I look like?
Me: Yes to all, except pop music. I like it okay, but this is some dark alt country station that I made on Pandora.
Him: I can’t stand to listen to country music. Why do my eyes look so chinky? I look Chinese! Other Filipino guys have such round eyes. I get mistaken for Chinese all the time.
Me: Your eyes are beautiful. If they were rounder people would think you were Mexican.
Him: That’s true. People take me for Mexican all the time. Can I have another hug?
(we hug for a while)
Me: Does your family in the Philippines know you’re gay?
Him: Yes. They had a ‘Coming Out’ party for me when I told them I think that’s strange. Why would you have to announce it??
Me: Seriously?
Him: Yeah. Why would you feel the need to announce it. Straight people don’t have to announce their sexuality.
Me: But Straight people do announce their own sexuality, all the time.
Him: No they don’t.
Me: Yes. They do. A debutante’s Coming Out party is just a formal announcement that she’ll be taking dates from men now. Straight people announce their sexuality all the time. Going to Hooters with pals, getting your first date with a girl, asking someone to marry you in a public place, bridal showers – they’re all ways of announcing you’re straight. A christening! What is a christening if not proof that heterosexuality happened?
Him: But why is it important for us to announce it?
Me: You’re asking me this? Me? I’m the guy who bakes naked and gay all over the internet. It’s important because we’re asked by an oppressive straight society to cover up, or subvert ourselves for the sake of not making straights uncomfortable. It happens all the time in various subtle and blatant ways.
Him: Like how?
Me: Like when your boyfriend says, hey, please don’t kiss me while we’re hanging out with my grandma – she knows I’m gay but I don’t want to freak her out. That’s your boyfriend acknowledging that his sexuality is a nuisance for straight people. That’s him asking you to be an accomplice in apologizing for or covering up your sexuality.
Him: So you’re saying we should stop doing that. We should announce it.
Me: I’m saying we HAVE to start doing that. It’s life or death. There are plenty of people out there that sympathize with us, but there are plenty of people out there that wish we would get AIDS and die.
Him: AIDS.
Me: AIDS. Oh! The muffins are done. Looks like they’re falling apart. I guess I shouldn’t have haphazardly put twice as many blueberries in there.
Him: Yeah. They’re soggy inside and they didn’t hold form. I like them. Good job, Jerk.
Reason To Live
Sometimes this is my reason for living:
The Closet
Hey Michael,
First off, your site is amazing! Its really interesting to read, and funny too! Although I could spend the rest of this message praising your site, the real reason I’m writing is because I’ve got a problem.
I just turned 20 and I am in the closet (mostly), mainly due to the fact that I go to the U.S. Naval Academy in Annapolis. I just finished my sophomore year and at the end of the summer I will have to sign a document stating that the next seven years of my life will be devoted to the service of the Navy or Marine Corps. I know that I could be successful as an military officer, but I can’t help feeling that I am completely off my rocker for a few reasons.
First, even with the repeal of Don’t Ask Don’t Tell, I feel like coming out this fall would just cause me more problems than it is actually worth. Many of the people at my school would give me a lot of shit and I’d rather not deal with that if possible. Second, I feel that I would be defending a country where many people believe that I shouldn’t have the same rights as everyone else.
Don’t get me wrong, America is a great place and overall should be defended. Surprisingly, I really like going to school at the Naval Academy and like most of the people there too. I just feel that I can’t talk to any of my friends about this since they wouldn’t understand the situation and I want to get input from different people before I make the final decision whether to sign or not. Thanks so much!
W.T. Door
Hey, W. T.
Thanks for your kind words. It’s nice to know people are reading.
It sounds like you’ve got two issues here. Allow me to order them for you?
#1: You want to know if you should pull the trigger and sign the contract on a military career.
Yes. You should. You’re there for a reason. You’ve spent all this time there for a reason. You’re good at this, and you’re drawn to it. That’s a great thing. It’s great to know at a young age what you’re good at and why. Most young men your age don’t have that blessing, to know what they’re passionate about/good at. You should sign the contract.
Part of your argument seems to be your reservations about whether or not you should be defending a country that won’t allow you the same rights as everyone else. I hear that. You’re probably angry. I know I am. I’m angry at Straight people in America for silently watching as a smaller faction of militant bullies deny Gays their civil rights.
Even so, part of what makes your narrative so compelling is that willingness and proclivity toward doing just that: defending a nation of people that still denies you your rights. There’s a real shortage of gay role models out there – people who will stand up and live an open, naked, unashamed life, and participate in the world that seems to exclude them. You should be one of those gay role models. You already inspire me as such, and I can’t wait to see what you’re capable of.
#2 You want to know if you should come out of the closet and conduct your military career as an openly gay homosexual.
Yes. Yes you should.
How can you possibly be the inspiring role model I already know you to be, if nobody knows you’re Gay?
I know it will be difficult. Possibly even fraught with peril. I grew up openly Gay in a very rural, difficult area of central Florida. It wasn’t easy. People resented me and ostracized me. I remember once getting hit in the head with a thrown rock, at my lunch table.
But, I worked harder. I was more charming, nicer, and harder working than straight boys needed to be. I never apologized for who I was, nor was I content to shrink up into a marginalized back seat, and wait for the Straights to decide what was what for me. For better or for worse, I threw myself into their society.
That’s what you should do, too.
I know. You must be thinking, hey, this is Annapolis – not your high school. True enough. But still, without people like you – how can we ever hope for a world where there is gender, race, or sexual orientation equality?
Doesn’t our fight deserve a few brave, open soldiers?
Ask yourself this:
Would you rather live your life as a positive gay role model? Or would you rather cower as a closeted gay workaholic who desperately hopes his true self doesn’t leak out around the edges at social functions? I think you know the answer.
You’ve already made a whole lot of brave choices in your life that led you to Annapolis. Now you have to continue that tradition. Do it for the brave openly Gay people that have come before you. Do it for your terrified brothers who live their lives in the closet. Do it for your country.
But most of all – do it for yourself.
Bryan
This is Bryan. He is a sweet boy. He is studying advertising here in New York City.
He wanted to help me make a pie.
What was I gonna do, say no?
Me: We’re making Banana Cream.
Him: Good thing that’s my favorite.
Me: Yes it is a good thing.
Him: I suppose it is.
Me: I suppose I agree.
Him: I suppose I do too.
There was a lot of supposing going on.
Me: So you’re a student?
Him: That’s right. I study advertizing at SVA.
Me: Sounds fun.
Him: It’s a lot of work. I work almost every day of my life. I have like, three jobs.
Me: Really? Me too!
Him: Oh?
Me: Yup. I bake specialty pies for benefits and celebrities. I do comedy. I also do commercial acting.
Him: What’s that?
Me: Acting for commercials.
Him: Have you done anything I might have seen?
Me: No. Regional spots outside New York, and online stuff for boring companies that do things like make pressed aluminum. Exciting.
Him: I suppose.
Me: I suppose not. But I get by.
(Uh… This didn’t really happen. We didn’t really have a Lady and the Tramp moment with a banana. You’re imagining things)
Him: I cook and clean up after a guy who pays me to do that for him.
Me: Doioioioioioioing!
Him: What’s that?
Me: That’s the sound of me getting a boner thinking about you cleaning someone’s house and cooking for them, naked.
Him: I didn’t say naked.
Me: I have a very active imagination. Let me have my fantasy.
Him: I suppose I will.
Me: What’s your family like?
Him: My dad was a jerk. My mom worked her ass off every day to support him. He was a drunk to end all drunks.
Me: Was? Did he die?
Him: No. But he’s gone now.
Me: Oh.
Him: Yeah. It really motivated me to get up and do something with my life. Even if I have to work really hard to achieve it, like I am now.
Me: That sounds about right. I’m proud of you.
Him: You don’t even know me!
Me: Even so. I’m proud.
Him: Hm.
Me: Hold up. Where did that bootie come from?
Him: Ha. Do I have a butt?
Me: No, you have two of them.
Him: Heh.
Me: Usually you don’t see a butt like that on a guy your size.
Him: I did a lot of bike riding back in Jersey. 6 miles a day or so.
Me: Well. Remind me to thank the good people at Schwinn.
Him: Why?
Me: Doioioioioioioioing!!!
Him: Stop it, weirdo.
Me: Hm.
Him: I really like this neighborhood.
Me: Me too.
Him: I’m moving here in 10 days.
Me: What?
Him: I’ll be living a few blocks from here.
Me: Uh oh. That sounds like it could be trouble.
Him: It might be.
Me: Uh oh.
Him: Don’t get your hopes up. Jerk.
Conversations
Him: His face looks a little Aids Walk.
Me: Maybe, but if he’s in his early forties it’s quite possible that he’s just been binge drinking for 20 years. It might not be Aids Walk at all.
Him: Then again, it might.
Me: Yes. Well the only way to know is to ask.
Him: My butthole is both the fountain of youth and the BQE.
Me: Frequently renewing, and refreshing. Sometimes clogged. Always a good way to get where you’re going.
Him: OMG is that Sean Hayes?
Me: No, that’s a drag queen.
Him: I know, but is it Sean Hayes?
(pause)
Me: Looks like it.
Me: What are the three things gays enjoy most on a Sunday afternoon?
Him: Meryl Streep, Sauvignon Blanc, and Poppers Florentine.
Me: True… Meryl will take any movie it seems…
Him: And YOU’LL watch it, like a good homo.
Me: Also true!
Him: Ever since I started sleeping with other people of color I have to worry less about hiding my valuables in my oven when I get lucky.
Me: You hide your valuables in your oven?
Him: Just my passport and my wallet. White people are kleptomaniacs.
Me: We are?
Him: Yes. There’s a Winona Ryder inside all of you.
Me: I thought it was a bossy Jewish man inside of me.
Him: That was yesterday.
Me: If only.
Him: Whoops. You just farted.
Me: Yes. I’m rotten inside.
Him: That’s more than rotten. What happened to you?
Me: I don’t know. Something crawled inside me and died?
Him: Ugh. It’s TERRIBLE. You should check your underwear.
Me: I’m pretty sure I didn’t shit my pants, but it does feel like maybe there’s some parts of shredded pancreas or kidney I might have lost.
Him: Rough.
Me: I’m pretty sure I have two pancreases right? It’ll be fine.
Him: Light a match.
Him: You look nice tonight.
Me: Thanks! I showered and prepped myself. I might try to get lucky tonight.
Him: What’s ‘prep’ yourself mean?
Me: Oh, you know, shave, pluck the uni-brow, enema, cute outfit.
Him: Planning on bottoming?
Me: Not necessarily. But who knows who I’ll meet?
Him: You smell good.
Me: I just wiped vanilla extract all over my junk.
Him: SERIOUSLY?
Me: It’s a phase. I have to keep pushing myself to change and grow, and vanilla extract on my satchel is part of the process.
Him: Really?
Me: No. I’m just weird.
Me: Hey, you look really good.
Him: Hey, wow. I can’t go to Williamsburg without running into you.
Me: I like running into you. I miss you.
Him: I know. I miss you too.
(pause)
Him: (clears throat) So, there’s free BBQ if you buy a drink.
Me: I know. It’s just about the best thing in the world, right?
(pause)
Me: You look pretty. Oh my God, look at you smile. Look at that smile!
Him: Stop. We don’t talk like that anymore.
Me: We can if we want to.
Him: I don’t want you to.
Me: Okay.
Him: I think we’re going to go do Karaoke in K Town.
Me: Sounds fun.
Him: It’s extremely Asian.
Me: Just like me. I’m extremely Asian. Just kidding. I’m white.
Him: What does that mean?
Me: Apparently it means that I’m a klepto. Can I have a hug, before you leave?
(long pause)
Him: Okay. But then I gotta go.
(long pause)
Jerk.
Hallelujah
Dan Paul and Robbie came over for some singing.
We covered a Leonard Cohen song.
Enjoy the holiday, Jerks.
Question
So I’m reading your blog entry on what homos dwell in what hood and I think you’re partially right. I’m a middle management gay in Hells Kitchen, but I’m only mildly cunty and only at work or when dealing with someone in the real estate business. Also, I believe Mr. Sondheim lives in Midtown East (like Turtle Bay-ish) which is technically above Grammercy. I only know this because I used to live in that neighborhood and I’m pretty sure he and I were the only two homos there. Except for when he had one locked in his dungeon. I think he was next-door neighbors w/ Katherine Hepburn. If we meet, remind me to do my impression of Katherine Hepburn starting a car.
Anyways, I gather from some of your blog posts that you are an improver of some sort? And perhaps you teach as well? I just started level III and it’s kicking my ass. I feel remarkably exhausted and unfunny at the end of each class (I’ve only had 2 so far). This is a change from the previous classes I took where I always left feeling some sort of “performance high”. Ugh…it’s just not as fun. And it’s not the teacher’s fault. I like him and everything he says makes sense. He’s supportive and everything. While I understand that no two classes are alike, I’m wondering if this is common. I’m not sure that you can speak to it, but I don’t have any friends that have done this kind of stuff.
And if you know nothing of improv and I’m confusing you w/ another blog, please feel free to direct some Hells Kitchen-esque cuntiness at me.
Thanks,
Timmy
Hey Timmy,
First things first. Thanks so much for writing in. I love getting letters from fans, frienemies, and ass wipes. You seem like a nice guy. Sweet and genuine.
Okay, on to your letter:
I’m a middle management gay in Hells Kitchen, but I’m only mildly cunty and only at work or when dealing with someone in the real estate business.
Ha. Right. And I’m getting pregnant this year, after I learn to levitate. I don’t believe you. Gays are cunty with each other in crowds. Fact. It’s very rare that I go to a Gay bar that has zero snark. The Metropolitan can be cunt free, but usually that’s in the day times, during the BBQ parties, before everyone gets wasted. Cunty is a language we speak to each other. Generally it works like this: two or three gays group together and then snark all over pop culture, politics, or other gays across the room. Are you sure you haven’t participated in this phenomenon?
Also, I believe Mr. Sondheim lives in Midtown East (like Turtle Bay-ish) which is technically above Grammercy.
Thanks for fixing the set up of my joke. Jerk. 🙂
If we meet, remind me to do my impression of Katherine Hepburn starting a car.
Or playing checkers, or threading a needle while chatting with someone – this could be an entire web series. Funny idea. I wonder if you can change it to M. J. Fox? Everyone has a Kate Hepburn impression, is my only concern. Not that that should stop you.
I just started level III and it’s kicking my ass. I feel remarkably exhausted and unfunny at the end of each class… I’m wondering if this is common.
Yes, darling. This is as common as say, Old Navy, or HPV. Extremely common.
Level three is a crucial point in the development of an improviser. Most of the schools take level three (of five, usually) as an opportunity to challenge the students to see improv as more than ‘fun.’ They’re most likely starting to try to get you to train your brain to recognize games or patterns that emerge in scenes. When I teach I challenge my students to step outside the scene for a brief brief moment when the scene gets its first big laugh. I want the kids to say to themselves, hey, what happened that got that big hearty laugh? How can I heighten that? How can I repeat the pattern? How can I make the funny ‘problem’ worse instead of fixing it and breaking the pattern?
Level three is frequently amazing and fun, but it certainly puts students in their heads. Don’t worry about that exhausted feeling. It’s just you training your brain to exploit spontaneous funny patterns or ‘games.’ And it’s work. And you can do it. Trust this: eventually your brain ‘gets it’ on a reflexive, instinctive level, and you find the joy again. You just have to push through it and get there. Sometimes students can stay in their heads for years, but most people have an uncomfortable six months or so.
I encourage you to start thinking of class work as just that. Work. If you’re to be an improviser (don’t say improver, we don’t do that in New York) you should be a great one. I say that selfishly – I want there to be more gays out there elevating the art form.
I’ll also take the opportunity here to encourage you to join a practice group, or form one with people you like and respect from your classes. It’s an opportunity to get shows and rehearsals in there that you’re just doing for fun. That way you won’t feel shortchanged when you’re exhausted from class. Also, you develop relationships with like minded, bright, funny, talented people.
I hope I run into you somewhere down the line. I love seeing brave homos entering the straight white male driven comedy industry. Please consider me open and available if you have any more questions.
And hey. Consider taking my musical improv class.
Jerk.
PIEFOLK 