Loring Park Episode #27: Tears of a Class Clown

Previously on Loring Park: Jakey cried at The Saloon, and was revisited by a blast from the past.

I cry a lot in this episode. But it was never in front of everyone. I am maturing that way.

I did not cry on that first Saturday. My night began by telling jokes at Johnny Tequila's Drinking Taco. It was the night before Easter, so the crowd was sparse, and I was exhausted having worked a 50-hour week (which I realize that some people do all year around). Mommy was tired, y'all. After only one vodka tonic, my brain cells were shot, and my routine did not go very well. I told all four audience members that I was Bette Midler in The Rose, and nobody knew what I was talking about.

Wesley was adamant about going to LUSH, so he agreed to pick me up downtown. I usually chastise him for wearing the same stupid hoodie, but tonight he cleaned up good and wore a white Banana Republic button-down. I was proud, and somewhere a gay angel got his wings. Earlier that night, Liam texted me asking if he could sleep over, and while I wasn't thrilled about it, I was happy that he was texting at 7:30 P.M. and not at 1:30 A.M. I said it was probable, but that I wasn't sure if we would even be at The Saloon or not.

When we got to LUSH, I panicked and realized I had lost my Listerine strips! I even speculated bringing a back-up pack in case this would happen! "Oh, no!" I cried. I have OCD about Listerine strips. My greatest fears are tarantulas and halitosis.  "If I give you $10, can we go to the gas station to get Listerine strips?"
"What?!" Wesley asked. "Now? We just got here."
"I can't have bad breath!" I cried.
"Oh my god," Wesley cried. "You are worse than a chick."

He unlocked the car, and my Listerine strips were on the passenger seat! Hooray! Crisis averted!

"Do you have everything else?" he asked. "You probably need your ID. You look 12."

Not really, but it was a moment.

LUSH wasn't very crowded. We didn't know anybody there except Jason Matheson from FM 107, and by "know" I don't mean in a personal way. I texted my mother of his presence, and she begged me to say something (I still think my mom wakes up and hopes for a few seconds that I grew up to be Jason Matheson before the ugliness of reality sets in), but he was off the clock and I felt it would be rude. Wesley told me of his recent trip to California, but other than that, we sat in mutual boredom. He asked the staff why the place was so dead, and he explained that everyone was at the Eagle. I texted Joey and Jared, and they were there, too! Was The Eagle having a big event that night? Wesley and I wanted to go to The Saloon, but we agreed that we could stop at The Eagle to see what all the fuss was about.

Here's a primer about The Eagle for those of you not familiar with the Minneapolis gay club scene: There is something for everyone, truly. The Saloon, typically, is a younger, trendier, sexy crowd. Jetset is a trendy, sexy, older and more professional crowd (any time I introduce myself to anyone there, I get my own name corrected. "Jake," the Jetsetters say, with firm handshakes). The Gay '90s is hardly considered a gay club anymore. LUSH, the winner of Best Gay Bar in the City Pages last year, is a crapshoot, but on Wednesdays it attracts the same crowd that The Saloon does.

The Eagle, on the other hand, is for those who would not necessarily feel comfortable at The Saloon. The Eagle has bear nights and leather nights. The event we were attending, complete with $7 cover, was called "Bear-a-cudda." I paid the cover since I could already tell that this wasn't a great idea.

We were on our way in when I realized my phone was in the car, but we couldn't find it. "Call my phone," I demanded of Wesley. He did so, but it was stuck under the back seat.

"I'll get it," he declared, and I stood with the back passenger door open while he crouched below the passenger seat. Not only did this look lewd from a certain angle, but I also blushed when I realized I was totally checking out his butt. "I have a hockey booty," a forlorn customer struggling to buy a suit told me a few months ago. I get it now.

Wesley and I walked in, and Joey and Jared were right by the exit. I hugged them and introduced them to Wesley, and soon ran into my fellow comedian friend (and cub!), Matt Iverson! I didn't even notice the hairy, overweight men walking around in their underwear. It's The Eagle. You go there and you expect that. It's part of the scenery, just as The Saloon has the go-go boys and The Gay '90s has drunk 18-year-old girls who are still in love with their hopelessly gay twink pals.

Wesley was not one to hear of my explanation that the gay subculture offers something for everyone, and the further we walked into the bar, the more, erm -- Eaglish -- it got. The men somehow got hairier, fatter, and more scantily clad.

"OH MY GOD," Wesley couldn't stop yelling. "This is not for me. We need to go." But I had paid $14! And it was too crowded for us to turn on our heels and leave. I was beginning to grow worried not just for Wesley's state of mind, but also for his physical safety. His volume was getting louder, and the last thing I wanted was for a muscle bear to pulverize him into the ground (Wesley has an athletic build, and don't think I haven't noticed it, but I didn't want to take any chances). However, the only thing that was about to be pulverized was my ego.

"IS THERE ANYONE ATTRACTIVE HERE?!" Wesley yelled a bit too loud.
"Wesley," I said. "I'm right here."
Then he busted out laughing, in a genuine, boisterous manner that was bigger than any reaction I had at Johnny Tequila's earlier. "That's the funniest thing you've said all night!!" he sputtered.

We went downstairs, where Wesley only grew more traumatized. I bid a quick and regretful good-bye to Joey and Jared, and we were on our way to The Saloon. I convinced Wesley to not start swearing until we got in the car, because I didn't want to get beat up.

"I'm sorry I brought you there!" I cried. He was in no mood to hear my speech about subcultures and how everyone should be celebrated. Liam was texting me and I told him I was en route to The Saloon. I could tell from his texts that he was already wasted. Oh, yay.

Wesley parked the car and I meant to take one Listerine strip, but the wind blew them up and I accidentally took all of them at once! I failed to avoid a Listerine Strip crisis!

"Wesley!" I whined. "Do you have any gum? Or mints?"
"No," he scoffed.
"Oh no! What am I gonna do?!" I was in panic attack mode.

We tried to look for Liam when we got to The Saloon, but I was also nervous because Football Guy was there! The 6'4" sex god whom I once told was a unicorn! "Wesley!" I cried. "One of my biggest crushes is here! I'm so nervous! I'll point him out when he walks by!" He did, and he was with two fifths of the Pretty Girl Mafia, but he was with two of the five that rarely and never talk to me, so my presence was not acknowledged. Also, I had awful breath! I ended up sipping Rumpelmintz like it was water. I finally saw a boy who gave me gum (his name is Tommy and I met him after the Kathy Griffin show in December), and I will never forget it.

"Well," Wesley said as Football Guy and his heaving pectoral muscles walked by. "I'm glad one of us thinks he's cute." Fascinating! Liam showed up and we discussed classical architecture. Meanwhile, Wesley was busy texting Quinn, who was out of town. While Liam was blathering in my ear, I saw a moment happen on Wesley's face. It was a genuinely affected smile, and a look that I had never seen him give me. I realized that I would be the boy that makes him laugh, but never the one that made him smile. It was a feeling that would recur over the week.

I wasn't crying yet.

We were back at T.J.'s bar in attempts to mingle and Liam went to Froot Loop. Wesley was still texting Quinn and I acquainted myself with Cagefighter for a while. As I was finishing my drink, Liam came back and tried to look at Wesley's cell phone, which didn't go over well.

"You better try to keep him," Liam said. "A boy like that isn't gonna be single very long."
"Yes, I know," I said. Liam sauntered off and Wesley glared as he left.
"What were you guys talking about?" Wesley asked.
"Um .... Easter," I said.

Cagefighter was getting hit on by a group of Asian twinks, and then RYAN ROBERTSON showed up! Liam and I instantly turned into teenage girls.
"Hi, Ryan," we both sang.
"I feel like you are a pop singer and every time we see you, we turn into the Ryanettes," I complained. "Are you going to brunch tomorrow?"
"Nah," Ryan said in his Lochte-like cadence. "My mom texted me and asked if I would come for lunch."
"Well, that's nice!" I agreed. "Cagefighter! Are you going to brunch tomorrow?"
"Yeah, probably at noon," he said. Hooray! Despite my emotional turmoil, I could look forward to brunch.

Wesley left, and Liam and I paid $20 for a petty-cab (which is when a cute boy in a bicycle drives you to your apartment).
"So, Wesley likes Quinn," I yelled, because I was drunk and rancid. "And remember when Kevin liked Quinn, too? And I'm fine with that. Quinn is cute, and he's a nice person! I'm not gonna hate him just because my crushes always like him! But I will say that my fake TV show is no longer called Loring Park. It is called Everybody Loves Quinn. On CBS at 8 PM on Wednesdays."

Loring Park Episode #26: Luck of the (10%) Irish

Previously on Loring Park: Several blasts from the past converged, but none were more surprising than a decade-long what-if.

I am only 10% Irish. The only time I ever got called out for it was when I lived in Brooklyn and I helped a nice old lady with her cart of goods from Dollar Tree, and she said, "You're lucky! You have the mick in you!" Then, when I informed her that my apartment was in Flatbush instead of Midwood, she ranted about how she could not believe that I was living amongst "that rotten race". Then I started to regret helping her with her cart even though she was feeble and 80 pounds.

Still, I felt rather lucky about the events of St. Patrick's Day. Everything just seemed to align on the Saturday before the festivities.

First of all, it was a rare treat in that I had a Saturday off! The timing couldn't have been better, because my girls from college were having a pool party, as one of them lives in a fancy building with an indoor pool.

This sums up my two years at UW-Stout in so many ways.

I was beyond thrilled to go! I hadn't seen Amy, Kristen and Jess in years (Amy isn't in this picture -- Laura is on the left. She has a baby now. SO. WEIRD.), and while I kind of feel like Peter Pan, it also felt like we hadn't missed a beat. They all look great (they go to Sculpt Yoga every day) and are doing well in their professions. In St. Patrick's Day spirit, I decided to bring Three Olives Dude, which was the only green vodka I could find at the liquor store. I wore my green O'BAMA shirt, and then felt weird because I didn't want to get political on anyone, but nobody gave me grief for it. It was a magical afternoon! People had puppies! And green cupcakes! And I played PIG, the basketball game, in the pool with a broski who had pectoral muscles the size of my head. I was surprisingly adept at PIG. I think I am the same way with athletic endeavors in the way I am with Beyonce lyrics: I am only proficient when drunk. Because I am older now, I am no longer disappointed when I find out a hot guy is straight. Now I get to meet his hot wife. (She was very nice, by the way, and I promise I didn't think about them having sex)

I met Liam at the 19, and we got ready at my apartment to venture to The Saloon. I wanted to leave the bar early that night, as I had to work at 10:30 the next day! Oy vey! We arrived at around 10, and the place was packed. Who knew Minneapolis had such a high Irish population? Wesley and his friend Santana were there. Santana has often been with Wesley. He is quiet but not in a snobbish way -- they both seemed to be introverted, which was weird, because Wesley was not introverted when I knew him in high school, but people can change in ten years.

My mood elevated even more when Jared showed up! We giggled as Victor grinded against Wesley, who was clearly uncomfortable (I do not remember this and had to be told about it the next day). Then, I received another Emmy nomination when Kevin walked in with a man friend. He wasn't even wearing green!

I did not start crying this time. Nor did I have a panic attack. I think I was fine this time because a) I really think I've been burned enough times to be over him, b) I wasn't sloppy at this point, and c) I had Liam, Jared, and Wesley around, whereas last time I didn't know anybody else at the club, Perfect Football Guy Perfection notwithstanding.

"Hello, Kevin," I smiled. "Good to see you." We all went around and named names, and Kevin and his man friend went out to smoke (even though Kevin doesn't smoke!).

"Rhoda," I directed. "Go eavesdrop."
"Of course!" Jared cried, and he sprinted to the patio.
"JAKE!" Wesley yelled. "If I were gay in high school, would you have had sex with me?"
"Wesley, I am not answering such a question," I said with an eye roll. "First of all, don't you remember when we were in high school and you talked to me outside of the patio asking me if I wanted to fool around, and I said no and gave you my friend's address?"
"WHAT?!" he laughed. "That never happened. You are so full of shit, dude!"
"It did too!" I cried.

Jared came back shortly after. "Kevin is Penelope," he said, referring to Kristen Wiig's SNL character.
"What do you mean?!" I asked.
"He asked someone how long they knew you," he explained. "And then he was like, 'Oh, I've known Jakey for four years.'."
"Weird!" I cried. "Maybe he got me confused with Liam."

Jared shrugged, and we vamoosed back to the video bar. While I was very proud of myself for how I handled seeing Kevin, my confidence began to waver when the Pretty Girl Mafia walked in!

Not only that, but I totally forgot that one of them was having a birthday party, so they were all in tank tops and had enough glitter on them to .... well, I don't know how to finish that sentence. "Kill a horse" is the cliched way, but would glitter kill a horse? They all had enough glitter on them to successfully glitter-bomb every one-time frontrunner for the Republican Presidential nominee last election.

However, Tan Man was in the Pretty Girl Mafia this evening! He was my fake boyfriend at Valleyfair. I never know how to act when a boy with a six-pack is actually nice. It just seems to go against some kind of rule. He was his usually genial self, and we made amiable small talk. When I later saw him making out with the birthday boy, I wasn't even mad. I was like, "Go get it, Tan Man. You deserve it."

Jared and I looped back to T.J.'s bar, where Wesley was still talking with Santana. I started dancing with Running Back. I haven't told you guys about Running Back yet! I call him that because he is besties with Star Quarterback, so at first I had to hate him. However, he's actually really sweet and is my unofficial dance teacher -- meaning that I watch him and then totally mimic his moves. He's fine with that. He's extroverted and will always talk to you, and I appreciate that in a fellow bar star. Anygay, Running Back continued dancing, and THEN STAR QUARTERBACK WALKED IN. And not only did he walk in, BUT HE WAS DRESSED UP IN A SHIRT TIE AND SUSPENDERS.

He walked past me, but we made eye contact, and then I was just embarrassed.
"Hi, Star Quarterback," I said.
"Hey, Jakey," he smiled.
"Why are you all dressed up?" I asked.
"I was at Marquee," he smirked.
I went to hi-five him. But then halfway through the hi-five, I decided that was too intimate of a gesture, so I switched it to a fist bump, but he did not know that, and so then his open palm smacked against my fist, and then when I tried to switch back to a hi-five, he switched back to a fist bump, and it was like a pair of toddlers trying to master a game of Rock Paper Scissors.
"Whatever," Star Quarterback said. "I'll just hug you."

I need to defend this. I know I am immature. I know I am 26 going on 12. And I know that Star Quarterback has no romantic interest in me, and I know he is not someone you bring home to Loretta. I get all of that. But it is what I talked about last week: It is the moment. This is someone who I was scared of -- from April to Halloween -- all of because of my own insecurity and social anxiety. So when the boy who (by no fault of his own) is the cause of that stress later decides he is going to give me a hug, it is a big damn deal.

("What did he smell like?!" Chuck asked me when I told him about it later this week, as we have since reconciled our differences.
"Like cinnamon!" I cried. "And strawberries! And Sunday mornings!")

I headed back to Wesley, who was getting louder as he was on another beer.
"JAKE!" he yelled again. "Seriously! You're saying if I were gay, you wouldn't have sex with me?"
I slapped him across the face and continued mingling, and was happy to run into my friend Cagefighter. I met Cagefighter at Pride last year and he has tattoos and a ridiculously banging body. He is also a corrections officer, which is a porno in itself.

I ran into Jared again during my Froot Loop (a Froot Loop is when you circle The Saloon, and is often done in a group, but this was a solo loop). I just wanted to gossip about work and/or Kevin, but he had other ideas.
"Jakey, go back to your friend!" he cried. "You can't just slap people across the face."
"Oh, I didn't slap him that hard," I said.
"It was pretty bad," Jared said. "Just go talk to him."

With my figurative tail between my legs, I walked back to TJ's bar, where Wesley was brooding and angrily chugging his beer. Uh-oh.
"I'm sorry I slapped you," I muttered in a small voice.
"It's okay," he said. He looked around nervously before speaking again. "But, yeah, I did ask you about stuff when I was in high school. And I did go to your friend's house. He's the only guy I've ever been with."
"He said you had a hot hockey body," I said awkwardly. I can remember things like this, but not anything about the Revolutionary War.
"I did play hockey," he said defensively. "Would you have ever fucked your friend?"
"No!" I cried. "First of all, not every gay guy wants to have sex with each other. Second of all, I was on a shit ton of antidepressants l when I was in high school, so I had absolutely no sex drive. That's why I sent you to his house." And I regretted it every time I realized that I grew up to have the sex life of a nun. I didn't say that part.
"I'm sorry things happened in your life that made you have to take those," he said, and that is when I realized how blue his eyes are. Oh, crap.
"Shit happens," I finally whispered. "I'm gonna go Froot Loop."
"Froot Loop?" he asked with confusion, but I was already on my heel before I could answer him.

Back at the video bar, Kevin walked by with his friend, and he rubbed the back of my neck.
"Jakey," he said with a growl. "It's good to see you."
"You too!" I said, and I kept my smile on. Kevin is a Scorpio, and that means he is highly sexual (even though I only got halfway there). I think I am finally over him, but I admit that his touch still makes me feel strange feelings in strange places.

***

Loring Park Episode #25: The Past Will Never Stay There

Previously on Loring Park: Jakey encountered perfection and of course had to make it awkward.  An emotional affair ostensibly ended while a real-life relationship finally hit the skids.

I celebrated the end of February with a mini-vacation to Winona State University. I was there to visit my friend Nick, who is from Germany. We met a few years ago in Las Vegas at a convention for forum members on WrestlingObserver.com. It is as nerdy as it sounds. I am far too old to be cavorting with the college kids, but life is short.

This is the horrible picture he used on Facebook to announce my arrival.
 

This is the third time I have visited Winona, and I always go through an existential crisis about my status of three-time college dropout and my usually forgotten Mommy Issues. But other than that, it was a hell of a time. We did all the things college kids should do: Attended a crappy basement party, ate Little Caesar's at 3 in the morning, and made a bro fort with Nick's Swedish friend Jesper. I felt very international. Also, Nick doesn't live in the dorms anymore, and that was great because it meant I was able to take a dump and a shower (I feel a strange need to clarify that these were not done at the same time). If I ever write a memoir, Chapter 9 will be called Vodka Shits in Winona.

I didn't plan my weekend very well, because that Sunday was my 11th Annual Oscar Party! Every year, I host an Oscar party, and even in years when I wasn't living in Minnesota, I still conducted a pool amongst friends. But because I had spent too long at the casino (I was all id that weekend, really), I was late for my own party! Mercifully, Erin and my father took care of the food, and my uncle Ander and his girlfriend were already there! I lived with Ander for a year, and in some aspects we could not be more different. I refer to him as a "hyperVirgo" -- always organized, always on time, always on it. My friend Sten is a Virgo, too, and he does not believe in rounding numbers up. "I will see you in seven minutes," he will say if he is on the way over. Because he has timed it, you see. He knows these things.

I couldn't relax until the show started, but I was pleasantly surprised by the turnout! My friend Julie, her boyfriend and their co-worker came, as well as people who I only see at Oscar time. Sina was supposed to be the Vanna White, tallying the statistics of the betting, but halfway through she transferred her duties to Chuck. Joey arrived and made it a close one, but in the end he lost to Sten by one category. (I finished fourth out of 13, which I will find respectable, and I was the only one to get Documentary Short and Art Direction, SO THERE).

It was a glorious night, and I felt happy to have the wonderful friends and family that I do. My mother wasn't there because she was in Costa Rica. I am proud of her in a way. I know we have had her ups and downs, but I also feel that, once she turned 50, she finally started to live for herself.

It was the last night I would see Chuck, at least for a while. We got in a spat, and at first it was ridiculously junior high -- he got mad that I reneged on going out because I had to work late, and when I offered to go to lunch on Monday, he scoffed that I would just stand him up again (and maybe he was right, because I ended up switching work shifts that week anyway) -- but I have become closer to Peter (not that way) since their break-up, and I think he blames me for certain transgressions that have happened since then. I have many positive memories of our friendship last year, and I will choose to focus on those. He is a caring and intelligent person, and I wish him all the best. I'm not going to run away from him when I see him at the club, unless he tries to make out with Star Quarterback just to get a rise out of me. I just read on Twitter that a Cancer knows exactly what to do and say to get under someone's skin. We are both born under this sign, and I will just say that no one who deletes me on Facebook and then wants to smooth things over is going to be on my Christmas card list.

***

I ventured to LUSH a week later, and was excited to catch up with Quinn and Joey. They're moving to my street in May! Oh, HOORAY! I was also happy to talk to Dennis, an acquaintance of mine whom I feel is on his own show. Like, we're both on Bravo, but his is the more grown-up show. Like, I am a ridiculous trashy show like Shahs of Sunset and he is Million Dollar Decorators. Dennis is very well-educated and is on a different socioeconomic level than I am, but he is never a snob about it, and we were discussing reality shows when his buff, muscled friend of mixed race joined our conversation. Then I found out the buff friend was a drag queen. Then the buff drag queen was spilling the tea (to borrow a phrase) about local drag queens, and it was a combination of two of my favorite things: Biceps and gossip! I was surprisingly quiet for most of the conversation, as I wanted to fit in. But finally, the Grey Goose seeped out of my pores and I had to say something.

"There are so many muscle bro-skis here tonight," I chimed in.
"Yeah," Buff Drag Queen said. "And they're all bottoms."
"How can you tell?!" I asked, because I have the sexual naivete of a home-schooled evangelical tenth-grader. Then Dennis and the Buff Drag Queen lamented about how everyone thinks they are bottoms but they are not, and I knew this was a conversation I would never again be having.

Dennis and I both love the Real Housewives franchise, and he fancies himself as a Gone with the wind Fabulous Kenya Moore. We both agreed that I am Mama Elsa. "Mama Elsa is very weird," Dennis said, "But everyone loves her anyway." I will accept that.

Loring Park Episode #24: The Real Housewives of Loring Park

Previously on Loring Park: Jakey and his production team (how douchey of a comment is that?) hoped for good results in the Fringe Festival Lottery. Chuck and Peter broke up just in time for Valentine's Day.

This episode begins at the Brave New Workshop, where I attended the Fringe Festival Lottery with Tim Wick and Jena Young of Fearless Comedy Productions. Their production company has agreed to front the production costs of a prospective one-man show in the Fringe Festival, but first you have to get through the lottery, in which your show number is written on a ping-pong ball and you cross your fingers for half an hour. I wanted to bring them Thank You cards but procrastinated. The whole thing was awkward! They were taking such a chance on me, and yet you have to leave it up to fate, and I didn't necessarily want to get my hopes up, because a lottery is just based on luck, and maybe I'm not supposed to try to break into show business at age 26 ....

 Fifteen minutes into the drawing, the man with the computer speaks up. "#159: Libra Moon Productions, "They Shoot 25-Year-Old Gay Men, Don't They?"

It's very exciting, y'all. I even got shameless publicity out of it! I feel really inspired and motivated to put on a great show, which means that I have almost started writing it. I have had a wonderful time talking to gay men at the bars about the concept of aging. Even Muscle Mary has been nice with his time! I misjudged Muscle Mary and completely forgive him for the time he rolled his eyes at me at Lawrence's post-Pride party. I don't hold grudges, I just remember things.

Loring Park Episode #23: Silver Springs, Pretty Girls, and Tarot Cards

Previously on Loring Park: Heartbreak!

My adventures started by going to LUSH with a bunch of straights! I went to high school with Cory and Charlie and we used to do a radio show together. I quit doing it, but they revamped it and have done a great job with it, and I shall shamelessly plug for it here (no, it was not called Macho Men Radio when I was co-hosting, but a boy can dream). Cory and Charlie love LUSH because they know one of the bartenders, who happens to be nominated for a local bartender award (which you can vote for here. This link also made me realize that I need to go to other bars besides LUSH and The Saloon, because Minneapolis really does have a lot to offer, gosh darn it. I voted for Chris and T.J., my imaginary husband).

It was a Friday night, and that is when LUSH does their girl night, so I put a minimal effort in my appearance (not much foundation and a long-sleeve Ralph Lauren shirt from the kids' department). It turned out there were cute boys there, too, dammit! Cory and Charlie are longtime Green Bay Packers fans and lost a bet, so they were in Vikings jerseys, and maybe that's why they decided to go to LUSH. If they're going to be Vikings fans for a night, they might as well pretend to be gay.

There were three other men in our group, and one of them was a very tall and boisterous man named Tony who graciously bought me shots all night. I had enough to dance. The lesbians were dancing like middle-schoolers, creating a circle and waiting for somebody to dance in the middle. Charlie (who, it should now be noted, is very much a bro-ski jock) had enough liquid courage to do one-armed push-ups, and then he picked me up by the waist and we did what I can only describe as the "slutty Channing Tatum move", in which my legs were around him with my chest at his face and he was jokingly thrusting. It was all in good fun, until a gay in a red shirt decided that Charlie was lunch.

And the poor boy. He just didn't get it. Red Shirt started talking to Charlie, and I decided to go mingle. I admit, too, that I was being selfish and immature and decided that I was going to let this bar think Charlie was my hot boyfriend for the evening. He was straight! I was never going to see these people ever again! This was also why I was fine with Charlie talking to Red Shirt, because I definitely didn't want these people to think that I was one of those jealous, clingy, always-on-him type of boyfriends (and these boys do exist. I saw one of them last night).

Charlie is friendly, outgoing, and only sees the good in people. I don't even think he understood that Red Shirt was hitting on him. "I'm with Jakey," Charlie kept saying. "This is Jakey. Talk to Jakey." "I don't want to talk to Jakey," said Red Shirt. "I want to talk to you." Then Red Shirt took off his red shirt to reveal a hot gym body. Then Charlie started flexing. Then Red Shirt started flexing. Charlie, I was trying to communicate telepathically. He's totally doing a mating call!

While this all went on, I had another screwdriver and was that girl at the bar who was crying about a break-up. And I didn't even have a break-up! I had a doomed emotional affair that was doomed from the start, and this shit started in May! Tony was a very good listener and encouraged me to not settle.

Well, the romance ended, and Charlie and Red Shirt got mad at each other. Then Charlie got into defensive fake boyfriend mode. "If he gives you shit, I'll fuck him up," he kept saying. Cory could barely stand. It was time to go. I was able to calm Charlie down, and then right when his mood alleviated, Cory acted like a Bravo housewife and stirred shit again. "There's the guy in the red shirt again!" he yelled. "GOD DAMMIT!" I yelled.

Cory and his bros went home, and Tony, Charlie and I got a town car to the 19. Tony wanted to sit in the front, but he decided this after Charlie and I were in the back seat. Charlie still sat in the middle seat. "I'm serious," he said. "Anyone gives you shit, I'll take 'em down. No one fucks with you." Tony and the driver showed each other pictures of their children.

We got to the 19 and I put "Silver Springs" in the jukebox. I HAVE BEEN OBSESSED WITH SILVER SPRINGS. My father bought me Stevie Nicks' Greatest Hits for Christmas but I haven't even opened it. I have loved "Silver Springs" ever since a lady sang it at Big Louie's karaoke in November, and I have been especially obsessed with it since this latest emotional debacle.

Charlie, Tony, and I mingled. People still thought Charlie was my boyfriend, but I was mature enough to admit his heterosexuality. It's the 19. We met a nice man, and Tony insisted that I go on a date with him. He was getting his Ph.D and will probably rule the world in ten years, but I wasn't attracted to him in any physical sense. God knows I am not Channing Tatum, but there has to be an initial spark there, even if I don't put out. Seriously, the only time I get a 69 is at bingo. (Ba da bum bum CHING.) A nice man drove us to my apartment where the town car picked up the boys. As sad as I was, and as drunk as Charlie was (I kept feeding him Listerine strips), I realized his prototype is not what I am necessarily holding out for, but what I will always hope for. Not Charlie himself (he is happily in a relationship and is, in the words of my father, "a thousand percent heterosexual"), but a boy who will do one-armed push-ups at the bar and will sit in the middle seat next to you in the town car even though he could have slid over to the passenger side.

Loring Park Episode #22: I Knew You Were Trouble When You Walked In

If I learned anything from the One Direction fanfic I obsessively read last weekend, it's that you need to tell this Kevin guy how you feel NOW. There's never going to be a good time! If you don't, he may run off to London on a photography internship like Harry and you're all alone and depressed in your flat because you just assumed he didn't want to be with you! And then Niall will be forced to come over and drag you out of your pile of Lean Pocket wrappers.

                                          -The irrepressible James, who better be in the same city as me by the time we're  40


I was going to tell him. Life got in the way.

Yes, boys and girls, we are naming this episode after a Taylor Swift song. If you want to decide that now is when Loring Park jumped the shark, so be it. This might be the episode in which I win an Emmy, but I don't want to jinx it.

I wasn't going to go to the club on the night that started this downward spiral. I was attending The Reapies, which is the Minnesota stand-up version of the Emmys. Even though I wasn't nominated, I knew it would be fun to go and see all my comedian acquaintances, and my friend Sina agreed to be my date for the evening. I bought a Jag bomb for my friend Josh Florhaug, who was celebrating his birthday. The show was to start at 8, but because of the Vikings/Packers game, it didn't start until ten. I almost didn't make it because I cut my chin while shaving and it refused to clot. You can see just a speck of it in this picture, taken by the talented Ricky Noren:

The first half of the show was delightful, and I really do feel I'm on some weird wavelength between open-miker and professional. It made me want to work harder and do more, and I felt lucky to be in a room with so many talented people. But I was not lucky enough to have a seat, and Sina left at around 11, and at around the midnight halftime mark, I was debating if I wanted to leave or not. And by leaving, I was preparing to go to bed, not go to The Saloon. There were many reasons to choose bed over clubbing. I had seen on Facebook that Liam had been at LUSH since 8 PM, and therefore I knew that he would be two sheets to the wind by the time I arrived anywhere. I was tired! My feet hurt! I had to work the next day! I had also been invited out by a nice boy from Iowa whom I met on a previous Sunday Funday, and I explained to him that I didn't know if I was doing anything after the Reapies.

"R u out?" Joey texted.
"Comedy thing is at halftime," I wrote back.
"Kevin is here fyi," Joey wrote. "And he needs a place to stay."

Kevin could not have stayed at my place, because my apartment was a disaster (as is often the case). Besides, I did not want to be that girl who jumps at the chance to run into the boy she likes. It is not organic. It is manipulating the situation. I walked upstairs and talked to the hilarious Carolyn Blomberg. I regret to mention that, much like I did with my karaoke outing with Jenn Schaal, we spent only a little bit of time talking about comedy and most of it talking about Kevin, because I am 14 years old that way. I decided to go to the damn Saloon, but first I had to drive my car home and cab it.

Joey was texting me to hurry. When I prepared to walk into my apartment, there was a cab available to take me, but I had to go back inside to check how I looked, because I wasn't sure I was pretty enough. This added another 20 minutes before my arrival. Along with even going to The Saloon that night, that is another split-decision moment that I will always question. I look at the picture above, and while I know I am not Channing Tatum, I also realize that I looked fine, dammit. I do not know what I was so afraid of.

I got there around 12:30, and ran into JARED! I didn't even know he was there! This led to relief because then I didn't even need to worry about Kevin. By this point, I knew where he was, but first I ordered Absolut on the rocks from Danny, because I was nervous. I finally saw him at a different bar. He was in a red T-shirt and was talking with Joey, Liam, and Quinn. Because I am 12, I talked to Joey first, and then Liam (who was pretty far gone), and then Quinn, and then Kevin. I was going to handle this like an adult.

"JAKEY!" he yelled. "Good to see you!"
"Itsgoodtoseeyoutookevin," I articulately replied.
"My niece asked about you!" he said. "So did my mom. She said she loves your expressions."
"Oh," I said, staring at Joey the entire time. "Thatisverysweet."

I have not introduced readers to Quinn yet. He has been there since early fall. He has not been written about because he is quiet. I first met him at a Sunday brunch as a friend of Markie's, and he often goes to LUSH with us on Wednesdays. He smiles a lot and does not say much. He is 23 and lives in my neighborhood. I had yet to have a personal one-on-one conversation, but, save for a time at LUSH when I (perhaps rudely) asked for a ride home and he agreed to one and then later texted Joey that he was backing out of it, I've never had beef with him. If you asked me my opinion, I would say he is a good kid.

"Jakey," Joey whispered. "Kevin has been on Quinn all night."
"Well, so?" I asked. "We're all grown-ups." I was on my second straight vodka drink after that.
"Yeah, but Quinn doesn't even like him that way," Joey said. "He's been texting me 'help' all night."

But what was I to do? Quinn and Kevin kept walking off in various parts of the bar, and I didn't want to seem like a stalker. Jared and I brushed by them a few times, and I had some more conversation with Kevin, but nothing deep, nothing I will remember (I also talked to the boy from Iowa while staring a hole through Quinn). By 1:30, it was inevitable that Quinn and Kevin were going home together, and I honestly was fine with it, because my apartment was really messy. Jared asked if he could stay over and we watched the first hour of Julie & Julia. Because Kevin wore red, I played "White Houses" by Vanessa Carlton over and over. Nothing has changed since college. I am still sexually naive and pining over the unattainable.

And he's so funny in his bright red shirt
We were all in love and we all got hurt

Loring Park Episode #21: Should Old Acquaintance Be Forgot?

Previously on Loring Park: Jakey and Kevin ventured to a famous party house. Jakey has a crush on everyone. But mostly Kevin. Oh, brother.

I spent the last three New Year's Eves (such awful grammar) in downtown hotels. Now that I live downtown, it's the last place I wanted to be. Luckily, I was invited to a New Year's Eve party at the same house that hosted the Daisy Dukes Party I randomly attended. I would be less nervous this time because I knew in advance that Liam, Chuck and Peter would be there, and I could have alcohol.

I was still a nervous wreck the entire day of the party. Kevin texted me at 5:30 asking if I wanted to come over earlier to watch a movie, but I decided that I had to Nair my arms and make sure that I was immaculate-looking. I managed to leave my house at 9 (like I had promised). I tried to buy mixers at Walgreens, but they absolutely failed and I could not get good mixers! In my defense, Kevin had asked for Five Alive and I don't even know what that is.

My anxiety is in reverse with him. Were this a normal friendship (I say the word "friendship" because "relationship" sounds far too serious and adult), I would feel more comfort the more we hang out. Instead, it is the opposite. The more I see him, the more I feel nauseous and anxious, and it's because I like him, more than the way I like the bar crushes, but I can't tell him that, because timing is everything, and I certainly couldn't say it on the way to the New Year's Eve party. What if he didn't feel the same way? Talk about an awkward car ride home the next morning.

Lost in my thoughts, I drove past his house on accident and then took forever to turn around because somebody was tailgating me and I panicked. Suburban drivers are mean, you guys. I finally got to his driveway and into his house. He was wearing a blue button-down and that damned pouka shell necklace. THAT DAMNED POUKA SHELL. It is as ridiculous as it is appealing.

"Try this on," he smiled, and he handed me a cream puffer jacket that I thought was a bit big on me. "That looks good. My mom brought it for me for Christmas but my arms are too long for it, so she said I should see if it fits you."

"Okay," I said through gritted teeth. "We should go. We don't want to be late to the party."

"It's good to see you," he said on the way there, tousling my hair, but not even that calmed my anxiety. It made it worse, actually, and then I got lost before we got to the freeway. I was beyond tense. I was obsessed with my butt, and who would be at this party, and then I was angry at myself for being anxious. This had nothing to do with the fact that we had already seen each other naked. There were going to be boys who look like models at this shindig. Boys born in the '90s who had positive, sunny attitudes and weren't constantly on edge.

“Buddy, are you sure you’re okay?” he asked

“Yes,” I said through clenched teeth. “I just hate driving. I’ll be okay when we get there.”

“Are you …. I don’t believe you, but okay,” he said.

Maybe there is when I should have said something. I convince myself that I don't want a relationship, or something monogomous, because I know I am too inexperienced for such a thing and have no clue as to what I am doing. That being said, I clearly have feelings for him, ones that are stronger than a simple crush, but I can't verbalize them. Instead I cope by listening to Lana del Ray and eating EZ-Cheese.

"I get lost all the time," I managed to say. "I hate driving. I am always running late. I'm on edge 24/7. Next year I will be a grown-up."

"Who says it has to be next year?" he smiled. "You've got three and a half hours left of 2012 to be an adult. You can do it."