Imagine this. It's the White Party, a sea of sunburnt people sporting white underneath lasers and flourescent lights. I'm bopping from one-side to another over by one of the whirlpools. (If you're flat-footed, you don't dance unless you're drunk...at least in my world.) All of a sudden a black man in a jockstrap arises from the frothy mist, sporting a laurel. He says "Are you a model?"
"No, I'm not. I'm a playwright."
"You should be." (Oldest line in the book, but he's an idiot as you shall see.)
"I'm a model, my name is (redacted for the sake of protecting the deluded.)"
First thought: Is he a model for kidswear, because Tyson Beckford need not be afraid.
Redacted proceeds to talk..A LOT. So much that my portion of the conversation consists of "um," "uh huh," and "yes."
Redacted also mentions that he is "A Christian." Somehow in his mind, god wants him to be dancing in a whirlpool with his booty sticking out in a whirlpool. Considering that we have all made our fair share of justifications, I let it slide.
Redacted then goes one inch too far.
"I want to marry a girl and have a child."
OH HELL NO.
It was at this point that Redacted went from fun pasttime to full-blown fool who must be avoided at all cost. Redacted dug his hole even deeper by grabbing me by the hand and leading me around the pool deck-cum-club.
Rule #1: You do not grab my hand if I have known you for less than 24 hours. (C did the same and trust me, I was pissed.)
Redacted also felt the need to mention that he was in a relationship and that he "liked [me]" and "wanted [me] to be [his] husband for the night." Redacted is an idiot.
And if that wasn't bad enough. Redacted's opening line? "I don't like black guys, but I like you."
I doubt it's just me, but there is no other more insulting phrase for any black gay man to hear. It conjures up memories of The Brown Paper Bag Test and Imitation of Life for me at least. I mean, let's be honest here. Can you possibly have such a high opinion of yourself that you granting someone else "good enough" status is supposed to make them like you?
I like to think that fate smiled at me that night, because shortly after managing to lose Redacted, I wound up copping off with a very handsome and swarthy Swiss guy in briefs--in full view of Redacted, and believe me, I made sure that he saw.
From Redacted and his numerous self-loathing passive-aggressive faux pas, we go to the Story of D. D took a shining to my comrade/roommate. D was also a huge flirt. D also made a huge mention of having a boyfriend back in Pennsylvania. D didn't know that my comrade/roommate does not cross that line.
Now while I certainly have loose morals when it comes to sex (note that my opposition to Redacted had more to do with his ego than anything else), I also believe in decorum. If one is attached and interested in playing, then at least act single for the night, if that's what you're interested in. Also, do not tease and run away, especially if you're over the age of 10. It may be cute as a child, but in a 32 year old Brand Manager, it's just pitiful.
Of course, the consensus was that D was tweaking.
Clue #1: He works in pharmaceuticals. (Now, I have been with a DEA agent on E, so I reckon easy access breeds pill-popping.)
Clue #2: He was running around shirtless indoors without dancing.
In a coincidental twist, D came over to me to ask if he should "protect" my comrade/roommate from B. As if.I'd be much more concerned about the aging twink space case than the gentle giant that B was.
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