You're not one of those Interior Decorator fags...

...but you do have taste. Whether your taste is good or bad is for the rest of the world to judge, because one thing's for sure, when you get the invitation you will surely be judging their apartments!

Anyway. You end up agreeing to go on an actual date with a boy that you Revenge Fucked when you ran into The Writer last week at The Ritz. Revenge Fucking is always such a healthy thing to do, especially when coupled with a downward spiral of drunken self-pity. And even though you've been a bit resistant, Bar Boy has been nothing if not persistent. He's been texting and emailing and calling until you finally gave in and agreed to an early Sunday night dinner date at a restaurant he suggested called Hell's Kitchen.

The restaurant looks vaguely familiar, and you have an uneasy feeling of déjà vu as you walk up to meet Bar Boy who is waiting patiently on the sidewalk. You breath a sigh of relief when you get a good sober look at him and realize that, indeed, he's even cute without your beer goggles. However when you walk into the restaurant, your déjà vu turns into déjà ewww because you realize that not only have you "already seen" this restaurant, you've also "already slept with" its Bartender. Not to mention the fact that you never called him afterwards. Ugh. Of course the host informs you there's a thirty minute wait and of course there's nowhere to wait but at the bar and of course The Bartender instantly realizes that you're on a date and of course you order a bottled beer because you're absolutely terrified of letting him mix you a cocktail. Bar Boy, however, obliviously orders a Grey Goose and soda which you keep inspecting for traces of contamination.

A few glasses of wine into dinner, Bar Boy informs you that his friend is having a Game Night party and he thinks it would be fun if you both went. You're a bit surprised because what was supposed to be a simple first date is now turning into a full-fledged fourth or fifth date where you suffer through an endless evening of Impress The Friends. You know you're in over your head, but, as usual, after two glasses of wine you're much more agreeable. You are, after all, having a good time, and who knows? Maybe Bar Boy could be the one?

The party is actually fun and after an eight year stint in La La Land you realize that you're much better at Celebrity when you play in New York. The party splits up into groups so you don't really get to talk to Bar Boy all that much, however, you do run into him in the kitchen a few times while you're refilling your wine glass. This is where you first notice that Bar Boy has moved back to Vodka. Without the soda mixer. You also notice he's begun to sway.

You're pretty toasted when the party finally ends and a few of you decide to go check out Posh, however, when you hit the elevator and Bar Boy can't seem to locate the Lobby button, you realize that he's three sheets to the wind. Maybe even four. His eyes can't seem to focus and his eyelids seem to blink independently of one another. He is able to say two words, "Yes" and "No," although both words sound alike and convey only one consistent message. You all decide that, just like a horse with a broken leg, Bar Boy needs to be put down. Although everybody tries to skirt your questions during the stumble back to Bar Boy's apartment, his friends kind of allude to the fact that this behavior is not at all atypical. It's not like you have anything against over-indulging, but come on! This boy can't remember his own address!

But you realize that his Alcohol Poisoning is the least of his problems when you pour Bar Boy back into his apartment and discover the real deal breaker. The friends walk in and turn on the lights, full blast, and you are speechless. The last time you were here there must've been a dimmer switch involved because you are absolutely shocked by the decor! All of the furniture is so Gothic and over-sized that you feel like you've stumbled into Cher's Malibu Compound. Or possibly even Morticia Addams'. It kind of feels like Bar Boy decided to sell his Castle in Transylvania and downsize into a one bedroom rental in Hellsea.

You're still taking it all in when Bar Boy's torso falls onto his over-sized California King sized bed, fully dressed, yet his feet remain planted flat on the floor. His bedroom set is even bigger and bulkier than the gargantuan furniture in his Living Room. You help Bar Boy get his shoes off as you begin to wonder how his movers ever got this crap through the front door? Or perhaps they removed a window? Or possibly even an entire wall? Or more likely they just constructed the apartment building around the furniture, because it kind of has that Ship in a Glass Bottle feeling to it. You're so busy gawking that when you go to take Bar Boy's pants down you wind up sliding both his jeans and his underwear down to his knees where both promptly get stuck. His friends start calling for you as they're ready to go to Posh, and you feel bad about leaving Bar Boy in such a compromising position, but your retinas can't take his apartment any longer so you just turn off the lights and say, "Good night and Good Luck." Anyway.