You're Not One of Those "Wham-Bam-Thank-You-Sam" Type of Fags

...but that's pretty much how you left it with Baby Daddy after the whole "You want to fuck that Muscle Boy, don't you?" incident. Of course you ended up fucking that Muscle Boy, but even though you'd really like to date a funny boy, you kind of assumed that you'd be laughing with him, not at him. You and Baby Daddy texted back and forth a few times afterwards, but nothing ever came of it. In fact, Baby Daddy was the one who ultimately let the ball drop. Although you're not really sure why exactly he disappeared, you're definitely not worrying about it. Hell, it's summer and there are boys in Speedos to oggle!

Speaking of which, it's an absolutely gorgeous day so you and your BFF take the train to Jones Beach to work on your tan lines. And the boys are even more gorgeous than the weather. There's this one Hispanic boy in particular that has definitely caught your eye, and although your taste in men rarely overlaps, you and your BFF are literally about to wrestle over him. Luckily it's a moot point because the Hot Papi is there with his boyfriend and, get this, their two kids! Talk about a dick deflator. The kids, however, are extremely well behaved, and, you have to admit, it's pretty damn hot watching him be a Papi. You and your BFF spend the afternoon concocting an entire back-story for the two Gay Daddies. Since one of the boys is white and the other Latino, you decide that they must have each used the same white surrogate mother so that the boys are technically half-brothers. Your back-stories, of course, quickly morph into fantasies where the Hot Papi leaves his hubby after falling helplessly and hopelessly in love with either of you. Preferably you.

Both of you are still eyeing the Hot Papi when you are packing up your stuff to head back to the city, when suddenly, almost as if your fantasy has willed it to happen, Hot Papi walks over to you and says, "Hey, isn't your name [INSERT YOUR NAME HERE]?" and you are absolutely stunned because Hot Papi is right! You say, "Yeah," but it's obvious that you are confused and can't place him, even though you honestly can't imagine ever forgetting a face as sexy and handsome as his. However, Hot Papi goes on to explain that he met you at G the night you met Baby Daddy. You remember meeting a bunch of Baby Daddy's friends, but you were pretty hyper-focused on Baby Daddy that night so you cut yourself some slack for not remembering Hot Papi. You're also pretty sure that Hot Papi looks better in a skimpy Speedo than he did fully clothed that night at G. Anyway. You and Hot Papi quickly start yapping about Baby Daddy and so you ask how he's doing. Hot Papi informs you that Baby Daddy was actually supposed to be at the beach today, too, but that his daughter refused to go. You want to ask if all the Gay Daddies belong to some secret club but instead you say, "Tell Baby Daddy I said, 'Hi'," and Hot Papi promises you that he will indeed.

On the train back to the city, your BFF can't get over the fact that you had met the Hot Papi before and forgotten him, so he informs you that you have been disqualified, and he has won the the Hot Papi game of Fantasy Boyfriend by default. You reluctantly agree, but then decide to text Baby Daddy about the bizarre beach incident, just to see what will happen. You write, "You missed a beautiful day at the beach today. The weather wasn’t too bad either ;-)" and you get a response almost immediately, "I was supposed to go today but my daughter didn’t want to go. Next time I guess. Hope u had fun." Which is a lame blow-off and you know you should just let it go, but you decide to continue to taunt Baby Daddy with, "Your Hot Papi friend already told me. Too bad. It would’ve been nice to see you in a skimpy Speedo ;-) On my way back to the city now." He returns with a vague response full of zero questions, “LOL. Maybe go in a couple of weeks. Should be fun," so you decide to finally drop it. You really don't know why, but it's obvious that Baby Daddy is as just-not-that-into-you as you are just-not-that-into-him! But then you wind up receiving another post-blow-off text which really surprises you, but when you pull out your phone you realize that it's not actually from Baby Daddy. It's from the Portuguese Brazilian From London, who has, once again, commuted back to New York and is wondering if you'd like to get together tonight. Christ! Your Saturday night is starting to look like it's suddenly about to get redeemed.

Later on, after a few drinks at Duplex with the San Francisco Treat and Rice Queens I through III, you head up to Vlada to meet the Portuguese Brazilian From London. However, he's late, which is annoying since he picked the place and the time, but you kill some time yapping with Vlada's big bull dyke bouncer, aptly named Tonka until the Portuguese Brazilian From London shows up and, although it's been months since you've seen him, you quickly remember why you liked him so much. Hell, he's smart, funny and handsome! What's not to like? Oh yeah, the fact that he lives in London and has a New York boyfriend suddenly come to mind... However, the two of you end up having such a fun time flirting and chatting that you begin to get a bit melancholy. Why does it have to be so fucking hard to meet a great guy? And when you do finally meet one, why does he have to be so fucking unavailable? Your catches always turn out to be more like Catch 22's, and you almost decide to call it a night and head back to your Home-Sweet-Hovel to huddle over some Häagen-Sweet-Daz, but then something magical happens. The Portuguese Brazilian From London makes you laugh. The fact that he can make you giddy during your Pity Party ultimately pulls you out of your funk, and before you know it, the two of you are in a cab headed to your place.

You're a bit terrified that your Hobosexual roommate will be up watching Sex and the City reruns, but luckily the coast is clear and the two of you end up making your own lost episode of Sex in the City. You, of course, are playing Carrie, and, luckily, the Portuguese Brazilian From London, winds up playing a dual role of Mr. Big combined with dirty old Samantha. However, as soon as it's over, before you can even grab a Kleenex from the tissue box, the Portuguese Brazilian From London is literally pulling up his pants and tightening his belt. You feel ridiculous wiping cum off your chest while this man is, most likely, coming up with excuses to tell his New York boyfriend about why he's getting home so late. Even though the whole thing suddenly feels ridiculous, you walk the Portuguese Brazilian From London to the door, lock it, and then hop in the shower because you suddenly feel like that dirty old Kleenex you just used up and threw away. Anyway...

You're Not One of Those Name Dropping Fags...

... (Jesse Archer, Jesse Archer, Jesse Archer!) but you find yourself unable to keep hush-hush about the fact that your Internet Crush (Jesse Archer, Jesse Archer, Jesse Archer!) who just happens to be the star and co-writer of the fabulous new movie, A Four Letter Word, has sent you his photo (Jesse Archer, Jesse Archer, Jesse Archer!) to be included in your Blah-Blah-Blog's slide show! And as if that wasn't enough to get your panties in a twist, your handsome, movie-star Internet Crush also invited you and your BFF to come to the New York Opening of his new film at the World Famous Chelsea Clearview Theater. Anonymously, of course.

Meanwhile, all of this brouhaha has put you in way too good a mood to go to Connecticut for a funeral, but, unfortunately, the father of one of The Bolters has recently passed away and you and your High School friend, Bunny, have decided to schlep out to Greenwich to, shall we say, represent. Although you thought you were closeted back in High School somehow you still managed to be the only Boy Bolter in an exclusive group of Burgeoning Teenage Fag Hags. And somehow, all these years later, even though everything is different, nothing has really changed (besides the fact that when you were in High School George Michael was straight and Madonna was gay). At the funeral you pick right up with your old friends as if no time, nor fathers, have passed. However you do have the eerie realization that 2/3 of your friends' fathers have now kicked the bucket. In fact, you and Bunny are the only two Bolters whose fathers haven't, for lack of a better word, Bolted.

The Eulogy is kind of sad, but not in the typical "Oh I didn't realize this man was so wonderful" kind of way. In this particular instance you are kind of shocked at how un-wonderful this man is being portrayed. Although you were very good friends with his daughter, you never really knew much about the man lying in the casket, mostly because he was a very successful businessman who was always working. Somehow it seems appropriate that one of his New York Telephone colleagues is giving the eulogy. Even though you remember their sapppy old commercials bringing tears to your eyes, The Colleague is actaully making you wince as he informs the grieving Orphans (and the rest of the not so crowded church) about what a great job the dead man did thirty years ago on some Merrill Lynch Project. He drones on and on about how he was in charge of installing twenty-thousand phone lines when Merrill Lynch moved their corporate office downtown. Snore. During the Eulogy, The Colleague uses words like "stoic," "hard-headed" and "staunch," and he barely recognizes the five recently orphaned children in the front row. He definitely never refers to them by name.

After the funeral ends, you and Bunny hug the Orphaned Bolter who breaks down in your arms as she says, "My two best friends from High School!" And you instantly know that schlepping out to Greenwich for the "stoic" funeral was the right thing to do. You are here to support your old friend in her time of need. And you get to meet her super cute baby who is nothing but happiness and smiles (luckily the stoic gene must've skipped another generation).

You race back to the train station because, after all, you can only take so much of the suburbs before you start to break out in Heterosexual Hives, and on your way back to the city you start thinking about what your BFF would say about you if he were giving your eulogy. He certainly wouldn't be talking about the Merrill Lynch Deal that you slaved over, but what would he say? Half of the funny things he could say would probably be way too inappropriate for Straight Company. You'd definitely have to have a Boys Only Service where he could reminisce about the time you entered, and lost, that damn Ass Circus Strip Contest! Or perhaps he would mention that time when you both were so broke that you decided to brown bag it between Gay Bars and got caught by an undercover cop while walking around with a Forty Ouncer? (Come to think of it you probably should have been arrested just for purchasing that damn Breeder-esque Budweiser.) Or maybe he'd mention the time last summer when you two schlepped out to Fire Island on the last ferry of the night with no place to sleep in order to play a round of P.H.A.G. F.A.G. (Please Help A Gay Find A Guy). Needless to say you woke up the next morning, miserably hungover, still single and extremely sandy.

You breathe a sigh of relief when MetroNorth returns your gay ass back to Grand Central without getting Gay Bashed by Suburban Republican Thugs, and you race home to change from your Functional Funereal Frock into something much more Gay-Appropriate so you will sparkle and hopefully catch the piercing blue eyes of your Internet Crush (Jesse Archer, Jesse Archer, Jesse Archer!) So you put on your G-Star V-Neck to compliment your True Religions and make your way over to the Chelsea Clearview to catch the New York Premiere of A Four Letter Word.

You actually get to the theater *gasp* early, and, since all the rest of the Chelsea Queens are still on Gay Standard Time, you and your BFF get excellent seats. You wind up sitting directly across the aisle from the middle row which is roped off for all those Filmmakers and Grips and Fluffers that were necessary to make your Internet Crush look adorable on the Silver Screen. And since you're on the aisle, you get an excellent view as all the Boys and their Fag Hags start filling up the Roped Off Seats. Only you start to get concerned as the row fills up with nary a sign of your Internet Crush. Will he pull a Madonna and just sneak into the packed theater after the lights go down? Or is he going to pull a Britney and just skip his own Premiere because in reality he's just a Hot Tranny Mess? Regardless, you don't have time to dwell on this situation because you're way too irritated from standing up and sitting back down again (over and over) because the Irritating Boys next to you keep racing to the bathroom to pee, or to get refills of Diet Coke, or probably, more likely, keep racing to the bathroom for to refill their dieting nostrils with Coke. After the fourth time of this up-and-down nonsense, you decide to give the Irritating Boys your Evil Stank Eye, only when you look up at the cuter of the two, you almost faint as his Off-White Linen Blazer brushes your cheek while he says, "Excuse me," because, you realize, that the Cute Irritating Boy who has been sitting next to you this whole time is, indeed, your Internet Crush! (Jesse Archer, Jesse Archer, Jesse Archer!)

Apparently a better seat opened up and your Internet Crush and his Posse of One decided to move over with the Cast & Crew. Unfortunately this all happens in the brief seconds before the lights go down, so you don't even get to stare at him shamelessly while batting your eyes and stuttering something inappropriate like, "Would you autograph the crotch of my True Religions?" But luckily the movie starts so you don't spend too much time beating yourself up over your Missed Star-Fucker Opportunity. Meanwhile, you quickly become engaged with the film (which is almost as cute as your Internet Crush) and you love-love-love seeing all your local watering holes featured prominently in the film (Vlada, XES, HK Lounge). You also love that you are completely surprised and extremely impressed that such a cute, well-written, well-intentioned, un-preachy, completely hysterical movie could be made on such a shoe-string budget! And we're not talking about Prada shoe laces, boys. We're talking about a Last Markdown at D.S.W. after their Christmas Blowout Sale kind of budget. But the thing that really knocks your socks off (besides the fact that you get to see your Internet Crush naked...) is that although this Indie Film is about as gay as gay can get, it somehow remains chock-full of heart (not to mention cock-full of Full Frontal Male Nudity.) You definitely attribute this feat to your Internet Crush who helped give three-dimensions to a seemingly two-dimensional character, not only through his acting, but also from his writing (your über-talented Internet Crush also co-wrote the film).

When the movie finishes, the Cast and Crew get up to answer questions from the Audience and you are much too afraid to ask anything, although you love hearing your Internet Crush cross all kinds of inappropriate P.R. Lines as he mentions a Fluffing Story that took place Off-Camera during the Drag Queen scene. This is when you realize that your Internet Crush is definitely going to have one damn interesting Eulogy himself; probably complete with Full Frontal Male Nudity. And you begin to wonder if this might be another one of those Gay/Straight differences that makes you pleased as punch to be a Card Carrying Homosexual. While those poor Straight Men are out brokering Phone Deals for Merrill Lynch to support their children, you Gay Boys only have to support your own bar tabs (and honey, your tab is just like feeding a fat family of six. And we're talking Straight Fat).

Afterwards your Internet Crush invites you (and the rest of the damn theater) to an After-Party at H.K. Lounge where you can get a free drink with your ticket stub. But, unfortunately, since you got in for free, you have no ticket stub. But you also feel a bit humbled by both the funeral as well as the boundless talent of your Internet Crush, so you decide to let him sparkle amongst all his adoring fans tonight. But this probably has more to do with the stalker in you knowing that on some other random non-movie premiere evening you won't have to share him with anybody else. Anyway...