You're Not One of Those Fags Who Thinks He's Da Bomb...

...in fact, when it comes to online dating you actually *gasp* tend to be a bit shy. You really kind of hate contacting strangers to say something witty and clever that will hopefully prod them to check out your profile and write you back. However you tend to get really annoyed when you actually do take the time to contact them and they don't take the time to write you back. What's up with that? Do these boys really think that they're that special? You tend to think that the whole Gay Courting Dance always plays out so much better in a bar situation, when you can get all the information you need in one simple glance. With a Gay Cocktail in you hand no less. If the boy is interested, you'll know. If he's not interested, then you haven't wasted all that time and energy sending out ridiculous emails to boys who obviously must just be overwhelmed by your clever e-banter, because what other reason could there possibly be for these boys not to write You back? Just because he paid some silly cinematographer to create a dramatic shadowy effect to enhance his six-pack for an online dating photo shoot during magic hour does not make him Burt Lancaster in From Here to Eternity! Do his rock hard abs really make him Da Bomb? Or just Da Dumb Blonde Bombshell? But, as usual, you digress.

You have long ago stopped writing Da Dumb Blonde Bombshells and have taken a much more passive-aggressive, yet very successful approach to first contact on Connexion. You visibly bookmark these boys. It's less hostile than a Match.com wink, yet somehow it seems to work. If the boys like you then they tend to write back. If they don't respond, then, although they are obviously missing out on a grand dating opportunity, for whatever reason it doesn't really irritate you. And less irritation in your life, although rare, is definitely a good thing. So you go ahead and bookmark the hot Swedish Engineer that has just caught your eye, and even though he doesn't have any gratuitous ab shots, you still kind of think he's Da Bomb. And then you do something that you are very, very bad at. You wait.

Luckily, you don't have to procrastinwrite for too long before your Inbox dings with, surprise-surprise, a message from your Swedie Pi! And he's actually writing you during his trip to Sweden! You email back and forth a couple of times before you take your relationship to the next e-level and begin to chat via Instant Message. You're a bit worried that your Swedie Pi's English won't be quick enough for a back-and-forth IM session (yet it will obviously be much more comprehensible than your Swedish would be), but the Queen practically speaks the Queen's English better than you do. Not to mention the fact that he gets all your jokes and references. You're really rather impressed. And let's face it, you're pretty tough to impress. Well, tough to be impressed by a boy without any professional abdominal shots. You tend to find rock hard abs infinitely impressive since you've been searching high and low for your own elusive six-pack for the past thirtysomething years. But you digress. The conversation is thoroughly enjoyable and you absolutely love it when you complain about something or other and Swedie Pi actually has the balls to call you whiny! You know you can dish it out, but you like to pride yourself on being able to take it, too. You're very versatile in that way (among others...) Unfortunately, most of the boys you date might find you, how can you say this diplomatically, a bit blunt. Bordering on caustic. But, having worked previously on a sitcom, you're always in search of the joke and pretty much everything and everybody is fair game. You never intend to hurt anybody's feelings, but from time to time there are definitely casualties. This is why you love it when some random Swedish boy gives you a taste of your own medicine, in your own language no less, and you suddenly find yourself cast in your favorite Elizabeth Taylor role: The Taming of the Shrew.

You actually lose track of time while chatting with Swedie Pi and are shocked when your anorexic friend, Fat Albert sends you a text saying "Hey, Hey, Hey! What time are we Splashing?" Although you have thoroughly enjoyed chatting with your Swedie Pi, you still have your gay priorities set, for lack of a better word, straight, and there are Gay Cocktails to be had at some (unfortunately named, yet extremely well-priced) free Blat Vodka event. So you wrap up your e-conversation with Swedie Pi and head over to Splash for the Immaculate Consumption party where, since you RSVP'd and are on the list, you are the lucky recipient of a bracelet which entitles you to drink impurity-free Vodka for two impurely free hours!

As soon as you walk through the door you notice your Fire Island friend Half-Share (who upgraded to a Full Share this summer, only in a less glamorous house) and he is, as usual, holding court smack in the middle of the bar. Half-Share is surrounded by all his Summer Housemates, which is typical even though it is still early Spring, and these boys welcome you with open arms and squeeze you and your glorious VIP bracelet up to the bar for some free Impurity Free Blat. While you wait for one of the many busy bartenders, you get into a conversation with one of Half-Share's prematurely gray housemates, Andy Warhol, and he tells you all about how he plans to replace the hideous art in their Summer House because the rental crap just doesn't cut it. You enjoy listening to Andy Warhol's uptown problems and all is good until you realize that the gorgeous bartender who looks exactly like the Ben character from Queer As Folk (except for the fact that the bartender is much younger and wearing nothing but an extremely flattering pair of Calvin Klein briefs). It's a bit awkward since, about a year ago, Queer As Ben actually gave you his number while you were imbibing at Splash. You, of course, slaved over whether or not to actually use the number and give Queer As Ben a call, but ultimately decided that you would inevitably fall helplessly and hopelessly in love with the gorgeous man, and getting heartbroken by a man who goes to work in his underwear was just plain unacceptable, so you winded up never calling. And since you are probably the only boy to ever turn down an opportunity to date Queer As Ben, it's always rather awkward to order drinks from him (even though it's highly unlikely that Queer As Ben actually remembers you at all).

That's when Fat Albert shows up directly from work in a Hey-Hey-Handmade British suit which probably cost more than settling a Britney lawsuit ever would, and he squeezes his anorexic little butt up to the bar to put in his Blat order with Queer As Ben. A Gay Old Time is had by all during this constant cyclical process of ordering, drinking and then ordering again during the two deliriously free Blat hours. However, just as the free Blat Timer is about to expire, an extremely drunk man with a unibrow attempts to rudely push his way through your friends so he can reach the bar before the Blat altogether disappears. Only Unibrow attempts to push Andy Warhol out of his way by throwing around a ridiculously large knapsack (which is so huge that you begin to wonder if he perhaps Unibrow might have packed a few outfit changes for a Weekend White Water Rafting Trip at Splash?) Anyway. Unibrow has definitely picked the wrong fag to fuck with, and Andy Warhol informs Unibrow that he is not moving. And that's when Unibrow informs Andy Warhol that he better move because he has, get this, a bomb in his gynormous backpack.

Always the Good Samaritan, Andy Warhol reconsiders his stance and quickly moves out of Da Unibrow Bomber's way. However, while Da Unibrow Bomber attempts to order his last free Blat from Queer As Ben, Andy Warhol informs the doorman about the Unibrow Bomber's Bomb Threat. Moments later, Da Unibrow Bomber is forcefully ejected by a few burly Splash bouncers who have absolutely no interest in finding out whether or not the Drunk Boy Who Cried Terrorist is actually bluffing about Da Bomb. The whole scene is rather dramatic, but this is mostly because Da Unibrow Bomber is extremely vocal about the fact that he is thoroughly entitled to his last free Blat before his bomb goes "BLAT!" and reduces Splash to a pile of overpriced Barney's rubble. This drama continues as the Unibrow Bomber starts protesting his ejection, even as his ass hits the curb, until eventually the Police show up, followed closely by, get this, the Bomb Squad. You and your drunken Gay Posse watch incredulously out the window as 17th Street is blocked off from all traffic. Including pedestrians. And that's when Queer As Ben makes an announcement over Splash's P.A. system informing everybody that, "Since nobody is allowed to leave the bar, Splash has extended the free Blat Vodka for another hour!" The crowd cheers and rushes the bar as your Gay Posse giggles your way back to the bar to get Bombed on Blat. Anyway...

Post Script-A big thank you to the Non-Party-Boy Party-Boy (NPBPB) for sending You to "The Immaculate Consumption" Party, and, of course, an extra big thank you goes out to da Unibrow Bomber!!