Loring Park Episode #47: This is Your Life

                                         THANKSGIVING EVE

This is your life, Jakey Emmert was all I could tell myself to keep from screaming, crying, uproariously laughing or possibly all three. Speaking of "all three", while I understand that it's an impossible feat to keep track of all my bar crushes and half-hearted emotional affairs, there's only been three that made me feel real things and cry in the car. And while I met them intermittently, for the first time in my life, here they were, in the same room, on the busiest night of the social calendar. And I am single.

I am not with the Boy in the Jacket because he has condemned me to the Friend Zone. I told him to check his jacket but he refused. He is attractive enough that he is probably the only person in this bar who could wear an oversized North Face and make it look good.

I am not with the Tall Boy because he finally got tired of chasing me and now he has a boyfriend nine years my junior.

I am not with The Boy with Great Hair because when I was crazy about him he liked my friend instead, and when he finally asked why we weren't together, I had met The Boy in the Jacket and my delusional heart decided it was game over.

 I tried really hard to get over The Boy in the Jacket and when I came closest, he made his way back into my life. It's still platonic and always be. That's okay. Last time I saw him jokes led to truth and he said we won't ever round the bases because it would be weird.

"Oh," I had said. "I thought it was because I was hideous and disgusting."
"What, really?" he asked and his eyes were sadder than usual. His surprise surprised me. I realized that 18 months is a long time to think that way about yourself. Those feelings would be a toddler by now, trying to run away from me. I cried for three days, because I had spent so much time being sad about him and this time I was finally sad for myself. In my defense, Sam Smith was on the radio.

My bartender is cute and friendly but that would be too messy.

And let's not forget about the dude who greeted me with a kiss when I walked in here an hour ago. He is adorable and undramatic -- and born in 1993. I just told my mother not to cash the $75 check I made out to her. I shouldn't even be out.

"You're having a good night, Jakey!" my friend Z cries. Z was Jared in They Shoot 25-Year-Old Gay Men, Don't They?
"Happy Thanksgiving," I cry as the Boy in the Jacket keeps kissing me on the forehead like I'm a five-year-old girl.
"Who's this guy?" asks the Boy in the Jacket.
"He played Jared in the play I wrote," I say. "You didn't see it. Thank God."
The Boy with Great Hair is his usual hyperactive and spastic self. He is bothering the shit out of the Boy in the Jacket and it is as hilarious as it is upsetting.
"How do you know Jakey?" The Boy in the Jacket asks.
"We go way back," The Boy with Great Hair says. "He wrote a play about me."
"Interesting," The Boy in the Jacket says, and then he lies to The Boy with Great Hair about his name.
"How long have you known Jakey?" The Boy with Great Hair asks. I signal for a refill.
"15 years," The Boy in the Jacket says.
"Are you---?"
Boy in the Jacket smiles devilishly. I purposely avoid eye contact with all involved. Boy with Great Hair is confused.
"Um ... how is it?" he asks. Like you care. The Boy in the Jacket graciously lies and says it is amazing.
The Tall One walks by with his boyfriend and taps my nose with his finger.
"Oh, Jakey," he croons. "Are we in love?"
"Just a little bit," I say. Your boyfriend is right there.
The Boy in the Jacket eventually drifts away with his sober cab. The Boy with Great Hair wants to dance and lifts me up by the love handles and it is painful. My heart can beat as fast as it wants to, but none of this will mean anything in the morning.

This is your life, Jakey Emmert.

"Do you need another one, Jakey?" the bartender asks.

I look around at the game show that has been my emotional love life and realize that, despite how intensely I feel about the three of them, I'm going home alone tonight anyway.

I nod.

                                    ***

I have had such an eventful month! I performed at the Big Gay Comedy Show at Bryant Lake Bowl with the hilarious Jason Schommer. 

I did stand-up and then we read skits that Jason had written Prairie Home Companion style. It was a great line-up (Courtney McClean! Zach Coulter!) and I met Chris, Jason's friend who just moved back from Los Angeles. Chris is in great shape and that is because he almost died because he was drinking so much that his liver and kidney exploded, and now he is sober and one of those people that it was incredibly positive and has a beaming aura about him.

"That is crazy," I said as I ordered another alcoholic beverage.

Oh! Get this! His dad came to the show, and he drove all the way from Little Falls. He was really nice, too.

After that, Chris and I drove to The Saloon. My phone was dead and I got us super lost. It was one of my favorite nights of comedy that I've had this year. And I actually had a good year in comedy. I made more money doing it last year, but this year I got to work for the Turkeys and open for Daryl Horner and play at actual venues. I'll plug here that I got booked for a New Year's Eve show!

I think we should spin this off into a Saturday morning cartoon where we solve mysteries.

I still haven't processed that Gus Lynch passed away. Carole Radziwill writes in "What Remains" about "tragedy whores", who are people that make someone's death all about them. I wasn't good friends with Gus Lynch, but that weekend in which he asked me -- me! little, gay, loud, me! -- to open for him at Gearheads in Eden Prairie was a most unexpected boost of confidence that I was maybe doing this comedy thing right.  He graciously talked to me about the Fringe Festival and told me to not wear shorts on stage. I had tried to impress him so I told him I won Funniest Person in the Twin Cities. He laughed uproariously. "The ACME curse!" he bellowed. He was unapologetic, hilarious, surprisingly warm, and our strange little world of the Minneapolis comedy scene will not be the same without him.

And now we're gonna talk about boys.


                                                 ***

He came back into my life like a hurricane. I told myself it would be different because we're actual friends now instead of just bar friends and we hang out when we're sober and I'm not in love with him anymore. Things would be normal.

"Everyone drinks more when you come around," Joey told him at The Saloon. "I fucking hate you."

Joey is ride or die.

He weaves in and out of my life and I can only accept it. I have stopped thinking of him as someone who needs to be fixed or changed or remedied. It is secretly my proudest accomplishment of 2014. I rode shotgun in his pick-up truck and stared at him and just thought, "I love him. FUCK." and then I realized nothing is going to change and there is nothing I can really do about it, and on we go.

A week later, we had the aforementioned conversation in which I realized my being hideous and disgusting was not the chief reason we have always been platonic. Then Joey and Jared left The Saloon without me because they thought I wanted to go home with him, but I didn't. Then in a mix of Fireball-infused rage, I threw a fan at them when they walked in the door and I am totally going to regret that when it is summer.

The next day, I remembered what had happened and I was sad that I spent 18 months of my life thinking I was hideous and disgusting and I was convinced Joey hated me. I woke up crying.

"You are ridiculous!!" cried Jared.

"I am staying in bed all day," I declared. Then I got out of bed and while Jared was taking a shower I crawled into his bed and pulled the covers over my head.

"Get out of my bed!" Jared cried.
"No," I said. "I am staying here forever."
"You are getting tears all over my pillows!"
"I don't care! I'm gonna blow my nose on them later!"

Joey came over and we were supposed to work out but got food instead. This happens every day, I swear to God. I haven't been to Planet Fitness in two months! Fatty fatty two by four can't get through the kitchen door! Joey wanted to go to Olive Garden and I blatantly refused. Paul Ryan called me and he ended up meeting Joey and I at a Mexican restaurant.

I told Paul Ryan I want to go to St. Thomas for a journalism degree.
"Jakey, that's like getting an M-R-S," he said.
"That's why I want to go!" I cried.
In that conversation, I also learned that I am the oldest person Paul Ryan has penetrated and that he now has a 19-year-old boyfriend.

 He invited me to his apartment later to make brownies. And that is how I spent my Monday night: Baking brownies with a strapping 24-year-old and his adorable 19-year-old boyfriend watching Adult Swim. I was jealous for about ten seconds, and then I chose to embrace the moment instead. These men have graciously invited me into their world. I am the wacky aunt of the Twin Cities. There are worse roles to play. I didn't even cry the entire time I was there. I waited until I drove home and "I'm Not the Only One" by Sam Smith came on the radio.

My brother and I went to go see Art Alexakis at The Amsterdam. He even Tweeted back at me to let me know I could buy tickets at the door! My brother was with his girlfriend, so I was happy to have Elizabeth Ess as my sidekick for the evening. We met an older woman who was trying to dance like she was in a Whitesnake video and she kept grinding on her muscular boyfriend who was not having any of it. My brother's girlfriend has a natural ability to find out everything about everyone, so we later found out that she was ten years older than her boyfriend and felt insecure about it and that she was pretty sure he was going to propose to her. I was rooting for those two.

Yes I know all about that other guy
The handsome man with athletic thighs
I know all about the times before
Yeah, with that obsessive little rich boy
They might make you think you're happy
Yeah, maybe for a minute or two
But they can't make you laugh
No, they can't make you feel the way that I do

Art Alexakis was my teenage years. My brother somehow became enamored with him and we had all his CD's. I was mentally ill and erratic and we fought a lot. Because of the honesty of those albums, I think my brother was able to understand me in a way that he probably couldn't have if he didn't have those songs. And I look back and realize that maybe I was able to understand myself a little better as well. I ended up quitting Paxil cold turkey (which you SHOULD. NOT. EVER. DO.) and my brother still cringes whenever I refer to those years as times when I 'went crazy', but I really *do* think it was Art Alexakis that helped us understand each other a little bit better. My favorite song was "Sunflowers". Art asked for requests and Dane and I kept shouting it. He finally played a little of it, but he admitted that it always makes him cry.

Someone also requested "Good Witch of the North" and he replied "Fuck no!" and I thought it was a hilarious and appropriate response.

            ***

I didn't even want to go out on Thanksgiving Eve.

But! Plot twist! I didn't go home alone that night! Kevin and I ran two blocks and hailed a taxi cab and took it to his house and I brought him to my Thanksgiving. I would invite him to Christmas but I'm pretty sure that means we have to get married. He has a new job and a Bowflex and he is 31 and on the way to his house "I'm Not the Only One" by Sam Smith came on the radio and while I was mad at him for being rude to the taxi driver, I put my head in his lap and cried anyway. I don't even know why I was crying.



        ***

I still haven't heard from St. Thomas. They want my transcript from MCTC, where I went to film school for a month and a half and then was all "Fuck this shit" and left. I don't have a good track record. But that was in 2009! I am slightly less stupid then. I don't have Mommy Issues anymore. Now I get sad about boys and bankruptcy and (comedy rule of three! something that starts with a B!) ... boogers. Boogers are gross, you guys.

         ***

I had a fabulous weekend at birthday parties at Heyday and Marvel Bar. The last one was for my friend Tan Man. He has a spirit that is as beautiful as his eight-pack. We had to stand outside for ten minutes and the bouncer let me wear his jacket. Someone was raised right.

Loring Park Episode #42: But The One Thing I Have Is My Pride

I survived Pride Weekend and it is a goddamned miracle.

bricesander.tumblr.com
 

I am a JOURNALIST now! I ventured to The Eagle on the Friday the week before Pride Weekend where Log Jamz was presenting the Forest Disco. While I was able to preview it for the "What's What" section of L'Etoile Magazine, I was hoping to write a substantial article about it for LOLOMG.Blog's "LOL/OMG On the Town!" feature. Unfortunately, journalism is all about being on time and they want things to be written 24-48 hours after an event has happened, not, like, three weeks later. This is probably what they teach you in journalism school.

So, I'll just write about it here instead.

 

I am never quite sure of myself when I go to The Eagle, but I've become kind of tight with DJ Fancy Restaurant in a social way (I even got on the list once!), and I was going with my best friend Erin. There were $4 specialty drinks if you wearing flannel or no shirt at all, but they were all rum-based. I was briefly worried that Erin would take her shirt off for the sake off feminism, but she was driving. She also pulled a Jakey Emmert and left her debit card at the restaurant she was at previously, and this was after we drove around downtown Minneapolis forever to find the drive-up Wells Fargo ATM because she didn't want to get out of the car.

It's probably why we're best friends.

Anyway, the event wasn't very crowded, probably because a lot of people hibernate before Pride, and I couldn't find anyone to interview! Celebrity was there and sat directly across from us, so of course I diverted eye contact like we were in eighth grade.

 

What would I say, anyway? "Your Twitter was soooo interesting today!" The moment has to be organic. And it has not been organic when I have stood next to him at the bar, or when he has stood behind me or next to me on the dance floor, or when he liked my comment on Facebook under his personal account, or that time we were stuck in an elevator together at the Hyatt. That last one never happened, but it is definitely in the realm of possibility. Also, my goal is not to bang him because if this is She's The Man, he is Channing Tatum and I am Eunice. I just want to get my picture with him and borrow one of his hoodies and never give it back.

I was getting nervous! What if I had no story? Here are my notes from that evening:

Plaid Shirt
Lumberjacks
11:10
Separate space
Videos
Girl from Mariah event
Lumberjack shaving with an axe
"Stepbrothers"
Picked up at 1130
Few people not wanting to pay
"Flawless" by Beyoncé
Either "Dark Lady" or "Gypsy" by Cher
Shirtless muscle dude
Shirtless chubby dude with bowtie
Cliquey but not so much
Rugby players are dancing in shifts
"PROBLEM"
Big butt song
Empowering gay men to do what they couldn't or felt
Accepting
Girl team is Valkyries in Chicago

Oh! The one valid thing about this whole story is that I spoke with Joe Thorson, who is the captain of the Minneapolis Mayhem Rugby team. I was trying to bust his balls about how I wasn't being recruited for rugby. In my mind, I was being hilarious, because I have the same height and weight as I did in ninth grade. Joe rightfully took me to school.

"We're not about recruiting people," Joe told me. "We are about empowering gay men -- or all men, really -- to do things that they felt they could never do." He educated me on why so many athletes are closeted, and conversely, why openly gay men feel sports was something they could never do. An acquaintance of mine told me that the rugby team was the first time he had ever felt accepted in his life, and I believed him. We also met a very nice heterosexual ... half-back? Half-kicker. Sidekicker. God dammit. I am a horrible fake journalist.

Erin had to turn in early, so I texted my friend Sean, since we usually go to Jetset together and Jetset is closer to The Eagle than The Saloon. Erin dropped me off at his apartment and we ventured to Jetset.

Several people from my high school got married that weekend -- including one of my dearest friends from that time who I haven't seen or spoken to in years. I'm sad about it, but not in an angry way. . The last time we hung out -- six years ago -- I had just moved back home after completely fucking up my New York college experiment, and I was bitching about how when I was in high school, my mom would hide the PlayStation controllers without telling us why, and I could literally hear her mentally check out at that point. And why wouldn't she? She was a college senior with her shit together and a bright future, and I was a Peter Pan manchild who had squandered my ticket to success and freedom. I am five years older than my closest gay friends, and I don't find that to be coincidental. People grow up at different times. Every now and then she'll heart one of my pictures on Instagram, and even that's more than I have a right to ask for.

I bring this random nostalgia up because one of the other St. Anthony weddings was there, and it was a random high school reunion! At Jetset! Who knew? I ran into Under Armour, who is good with names. Sean bought me a few drinks. It is an unspoken social contract we have. He is a bit older than me and has a job that reflects that. I am a social butterfly and my disposition reflects that. Therefore, he buys the drinks, and I help him mingle. It's not like I'm hot shit or an expert at sex or dating (I still have cobwebs back there if we're talking about that). I'm just helpful with being outgoing. Sean was in a long-term relationship for, like, eternity. It didn't work out. When that happens, you have to reset everything. You have to learn how to flirt and date all over again, and the older you get, the more difficult it is. For example, tonight's lesson happened when Sean was trying to put an after-bar together ("after-bar" is when you have a nightcap in someone's apartment).

"Do you want to come over after?" implies sex, so I was trying to get him to say, "I'm having an a-bar/after-bar if you're interested", which implies things are platonic and in a group setting. I also cringed when he told his neighbor that he recognized him from Grindr. Yes, Sean lives in a building that is practically entirely populated by young gay professionals, but you can't just say that. "I know you from Grindr" is the new "Karen, you can't just ask people why they're white."

Anyway, I had about three drinks at The Eagle, and then two at Jetset, and Miles was there and I was trying to resemble a grown-up and talk to him about his new business venture because this was Jetset, and then Celebrity was there but I'm pretty sure he changed clothes in between, and I was on my fourth drink when I made it back to the patio to talk to a kid from high school who has recently come out. And good for him! We discussed the clubs. And otters. And how he never came out because he played football, which reminded me of the conversation I had with the rugby team captain, in earlier moments of sobriety. And how the groom's mom saved my cell phone after the high school graduation party and I wrote her a card in gratitude. And how I had one hook-up in high school and people still talk about it, because this is fucking St. Anthony.

"You never hooked up with anybody else?" he asked.
"No," I said. "I liked a lot of people."
He said a name that I forget. He said a second name. Then I slapped him, because feelings are dumb.

We're going to talk about The Real Housewives of New York City for a little bit, and I promise this will all make sense.

First of all, I am the only one watching this season and that makes me sad, because Carole Radziwill is my life. She is everything that I would want to be if I was on a reality show: Self-aware, open, understanding of the genre that she is in, and blogging the hell out of it the day after it airs. But I cannot be Carole. Because, since I am delusional, financially destitute, and lacking a strong moral compass, I am Sonja Morgan.

Let me explain.

 

In this episode, Kristen goes to Sonja's dilapidated townhouse to get a facial on the balcony (is there anything more lovely than a facial on a balcony? I love summer). Sonja wasn't even there because she was at a dude's house the night before, so Kristen starts without her. The facialist says a bunch of gossip about people that may or may not be true. Sonja gets there, and the facialist says that she heard that someone ran into Sonja in Los Angeles and she was at a bar flirting with Carole's ex (but then-current) boyfriend, Russ.

Kristen is all "OMG! He slept with you?!" and Sonja is coy. She smiles. She doesn't say yes, but she doesn't say no. She likes the attention. It makes her feel desired. It makes her feel it helps her socially. She has no regard for the feelings of Carole or Russ. A rumor is a rumor. People talk. Whatever.

We will get back to this when I go over the recovery party at Lawrence's, but it applies here, too, and yes, I am being obtuse and cryptic on purpose.

When you don't squash a rumor -- or even an assumption -- down on purpose, because you are enjoying the high that it gives you, without regard to the other people who are being talked about, you are being the Sonja Morgan. You are not being the Carole Radziwill (who has a Peabody, and an Emmy, and has been on Oprah). You might not think this will matter, because surely it won't get back to the person being talked about, and definitely not back to you.

But it will. Because you can take the boy out of St. Anthony, but not the St. Anthony out of the boy. Or something like that.

And that person whose feelings you put aside for your own five seconds of an ego boost will call you every name in the book. That person will call you out on the fact that you, with the low self-esteem and insecurity complex, you got a high and a power trip off of a fire that came from a match that you didn't necessarily light yourself, but when the flames got high you sure as hell fanned them instead of pouring water on them. That person might even say you're a psycho and a sociopath, and your feelings are hurt not because that's a mean thing to say but because Holy shit, that's not exactly wrong.

 Live life like you're on a reality show. Don't let them give you a bad edit.

On we go.

Oh, I could talk about the fact that Sean and I ended up bringing a boy and a girl home and the girl passed out on the kitchen floor while me and the dude made out on the couch and his tongue was pierced, but to say that after I was just proselytizing and trying to redeem myself for bad behavior would feel dirty, and not in the fun way. So let's not.

I will say that Sean randomly gave me five of his size medium Abercrombie & Fitch shirts, tea tree oil, and cab money. Going to Sean's apartment is like Christmas.

Loring Park Episode #39: Sometimes it Snows in April

Before we begin this episode, we have to briefly go back to my Oscar party, because I forgot to write how funny it was.

"Is Kim Novak presenting 'Frozen' because her face is that way?"
"Why is Zac Efron famous?" - from one of the three heterosexual males who was in the group. The women and gays booed him mercilessly.
"You would rather have sex with Anne Hathaway than Daniel Craig? That somehow makes you really gay."


I was behaving myself until the announcer said, "Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome Charlize Theron and Chris Hemsworth."

Then I turned into an eight-year-old with Tourette's Syndrome.

GOD DAMMIT SHIT FUCK!!!

"Jacob!" my mother yelled. "I am going to start having a swear jar in this house!"
"Why do you swear so much at Chris Hemsworth?" Joey asked.
I didn't have the heart to tell a crowded room why. We'll go with Tourette's. That is perfectly reasonable. And let's be realistic. It's not like Chris Hemsworth reminds me of anybody.

God dammit.

                                                    ***

My life always goes to shit in April. I am not saying this to get sympathy. I am blessed. I have loving family and friends, a job with health insurance that I don't entirely suck at, my feet firmly planted into the Minneapolis comedy scene, a 28-inch waist*, the entire series of Roseanne on DVD, and a plethora of eye candy at my disposal.

(*I hate myself for that because I just wrote on the TelevisionWithoutPity.com forums that it bugged the hell out of me on RuPaul's Drag Race when Kelly Mantle bragged about her 28-inch waist. Here we are)

But the fact that April hates me remains. Before I go into details, let me recount the years so you know I'm not just saying this.

2000: Hospitalized for depression
2007: Firm in my realization that I am leaving UW-Stout, my brother informs me that I have been accepted at CUNY Brooklyn College. I have been depressed and numb for the past nine months, so it's like I'm not even there when my father accompanies me on the plane ride and we stay at a Howard Johnson in the ghetto. I apply for Creative Writing as my major and I roll my eyes at the man who goes over my prospective first classes with me.
2008: I drop out of CUNY Brooklyn College, to the surprise of absolutely no one, especially my father and mother, who discouraged me from going and staying, respectively.
2011: I get called a faggot on a party bus for my friend Kristen's birthday and subsequently break my nose at The Saloon when I fall off the whorebox. I wrote about it here.
2013: You were there. That puke stain never really went away, by the way.

But April did have some sunny spots. We'll talk about the end of March first, though.

Loring Park Episode #36: Guys and Dollfaces

Loring Park Episode #36: Guys and Dollfaces

Last season on Loring Park:

Jakey got his heart broken. Twice. He wrote a play about it. He decided to live and said good-bye.

                             ***

Still haven’t figured out which “Loring Park” character you are? Take the quiz!

I was lucky enough to be off on New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day! Instead of a house party this year, we opted to hit the clubs. Jared came over and I informed him that we were going to my friend Norman’s house, as he and his partner bought a mansion on Clifton Street. I haven’t seen Norman in two and a half years, so I was touched by the invitation.

“We’re going to a mansion party?!” Jared cried. “But I am wearing zebra!” We ended up schmoozing just fine at the party, even though we were the youngest people there (not counting Norman) and I told myself that if anyone asked what my job was, I would just tell them that I had Kevin’s job.

Speaking of Kevin, I was hoping to spend time with him on New Year’s Eve because I had plans to bring him to the annual comedians bruch on New Year’s Day! I was going to bring him last year but he wouldn’t wake up in the morning and I was a bitter, pouty mess. I hadn’t heard from him, but I did get a text from Chuck, who thought it would be funny to send me a screencap of Kevin on a slutty Grindr-ish phone app.

                               

 Here’s the thing. If you are a regular fan of this fake show, you understand that while Kevin is not (and never will be) my boyfriend, he is more than one of my one thousand and one bar crushes. There’s a history there, with real feelings, and unsolicitedly informing me that he has plans that night that do not involve me didn’t seem like something a friend would do, and surely not one who had a front row seat to all the drama.

But maybe I was overreacting. Jared and I agreed that I would not text Chuck back about it, and then we waited until an hour later when I was drunk. We got a cab with Joey and Quinn on the way to Jetset, and even they agreed with me.

Quinn had never been to Jetset and felt nervous. “Just tell everyone you’re in banking,” I said. Jetset gays love words like banking and portfolio. I texted Paul Ryan and said Jetset wasn’t the same without making out with him, because I am good at flirting. After half an hour at Jetset, we vamoosed to The Saloon, where an imitation town car ripped us off and made us pay $30 to go eight blocks. And I wonder how I went bankrupt.

Jared was my New Year’s kiss, and I was fine with that. We continued flirting and mingling, and then Kevin showed up!! What in the what?? He said he got a cab after midnight. I asked if he would go to the comedians brunch with Jared and me the next day and he agreed. Jared and I went home by ourselves, happy to bring in the new year with laughter.

 I had turned my phone off because it was acting up. I woke up at ten and told Kevin I was still bringing him to brunch, and then I received a message from Chuck that told me to never speak to him again because he could no longer understand someone who creates their own pain and anxiety, and he reminded me that I am 25. Joke is on him because I am 27, unless you are an agent or potential love interest. I haven’t spoken to him since but he sent me a Snapchat from his tropical vacation and I can’t tell if that was a passive-aggressive move or if he just forgot I was still friends with on him there.

“I do not self-create my own pain and anxiety,” I told Jared. “That’s so ridiculous.”

  “Right,” Jared said.

“I miss Wesley,” I said out loud as India.Arie's cover of "Heart of the Matter" came on my iTunes. I wondered how he had spent his New Year’s. Did he leave town? Did he go to a straight bar? Who did he kiss?

“JAKEY!” Jared cried. “It’s not even noon and you already broke your resolution! I’m beating you! I haven’t eaten anything yet!”

Paul Ryan sent me a sexy sexy text message and I prepared to pick up Kevin, even though my phone was no longer taking calls so I could only text. How awful! Jared, Mona and I (Mona is my Toyota Yariz. She is a lesbian and we have an adversarial relationship) picked up Kevin from outside from an apartment building. He had stayed with a med student/exotic dancer but they did not have sexy time because there was a third wheel involved. “But I really like him,” Kevin said.

“I’m happy for you,” I said. And I was.

 We made our way to Jake’s Grille in Eagan to the annual comedians’ brunch! I was again honored to be invited. Ron Lamprecht wrote on Facebook that Elisabeth Ess ate my weight in bacon. “I love your Facebook,” Wendy Maybury told me. “It reminds me of me when I was a 16-year-old girl.” Jared was so hung over that we had an entire pitcher of water at our table. I wore the tightest T-shirt I possibly could.

I dropped Kevin off at his house, then went to Jared’s to talk about Kevin, then went back to Kevin’s.

 “What do you want to … do?” he asked.

What was I so afraid of?

We went grocery shopping and liquor shopping. He flirted with the cashier at the liquor store. At Rainbow he chased me around the store with a salami. I wish that was a metaphor.

We played video games all afternoon and all night and he talked about the dancing med student some more. We discussed friendships and how he does not go out to the gay bars that much anymore, and I enjoyed that Jared and Joey and I are more than just “bar friends”. I talked about how Chuck had friend-dumped me, and what a weird concept that was.

 “There was another boy I used to hang out with a lot, but he just completely dropped me from his life,” I said. “And I’ve never had that happen before. That was weird.”

“Well … why do you think he did?” Kevin asked.

I sighed heavily. “Because I represent ‘gay’ and he can’t have that in his life right now,” I told Dr. Thomsen.

“Okay,” Kevin said. “You know that has nothing to do with you, right?”

 God dammit, Kevin Thomsen. When you’re good, you’re good. It was a light bulb moment. Wesley’s life was a puzzle, and I was never a corner piece.

He sat on the couch next to me and we discussed luck. Kevin worked damn hard for everything he has, and I will always appreciate that about him. “I haven’t had much luck in my life,” he said.

“That’s not true!” I cried. “You met me!”

“Well,” he laughed. “That was more like fate.”
“Aww!”

“Your elbow is digging into my neck and it’s really uncomfortable.” I am sooo good at flirting, you guys.

 Still fearful of physical intimacy, I finally kissed him in his driveway at 11 P.M. like we were in middle school. But I hugged him a lot at brunch. Probably to an embarrassing degree. He makes me feel comfortable.

                               

                He made it official with the dancing med student two weeks later. I had no right to feel anything but joy on his behalf, and I did not turn to Hot Pockets until he started posting “A Whole New World” on Facebook. I was naively selfish enough to think that was my thing. It was never mine to begin with.

Loring Park Episode #35: Comedy is Easy, Living is Hard (SEASON TWO FINALE!)

Previously on Loring Park: "I'm sorry you had to go through that," he said, and that is when I realized how blue his eyes are. Oh, crap.

                              ***

"If you want to bring a ... friend ... to Thanksgiving, just let me know," Grandma Shirley said the week before. I had her on speaker phone when Jared and I were getting ready and he cracked up.
"No, Grandma, I don't have any ... friends ... right now," I moped. "Just a lot of pals."

Thanksgiving was lovely and uneventful. I only felt stupid about being single because Grandma thought Dane's friend Walter was coming, and so there was an empty seat next to me. My grandparents sold their house and bought a new townhouse in the same city, and there was no yelling, and I only said the F-word twice.

The next day was BLACK FRIDAY at Mall of America! AAAAGGGGHH! I worked from 930 to 630 and then did two shows at House of Comedy as an emcee.  Midway through the first show, I was at a bar when a drunk guy came up to me, as his wife was rolling her eyes in the background.

He was in a Pittsburgh Steelers hoodie and their 21-year-old daughter was mad because she didn't have her ID and can't drink, so she just wanted to "do rides" with the 17-year-old daughter. The wife keeps saying how she had to go to the bathroom.

"Hey, buddy," he slurred. "I don't have a problem with gay people."
"Good," I smiled through gritted teeth, wondering why the bartender doesn't see me. I'M THE ONLY ONE HERE.
"Gays and lesbians, I'm cool with them," he slurred again. "My best man at my wedding was gay. JACKIE!! I'm telling him about Jeff!"
"Leave him alone!" she yelled.
"Jeff was my best man. You guys would be great together. He's pretty crazy. We went to the gay club once, he kept taking his clothes off."
"Yeah, that can happen ..."
"Aww, man, you'd LOVE Jeff. You guys would be such a great couple. Like, he's GAY. Like, you're gay, but he's like ......... Really, really, gayyyyyyyy."

THAT'S when I got mad because not only is it super obnoxious when people assume that two gay people will automatically be a perfect match, but he had just seen me talk for ten minutes describing relationships with gay men who use Axe grooming products, do pantomime golfing in lieu of dancing, drink beer and can't name a single show on Bravo. Not only was he drunk and obnoxious, but HE WASN'T EVEN LISTENING.

It was still an enjoyable evening. Before the show started, the wait staff informed me that an 18-year-old boy was going to be in the front row and he was being shipped off to the Navy the following day. "We thought you should be the comic that mentioned it," she said.

I called him out during my set and he waved. "Well, hello, sailor," I said. "Don't worry. I won't hit on you. It's awkward. And I only put out for Marines." Then he winked at me. After the show his bro-ski friends shook my hand. Life could be worse.

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 #13: September's Coming Soon

Typically on the 13^th episode of a TV show’s freshman season, loose ends are tied up because a show is initially only ordered for 13 episodes before the network decides to give it a full 22-episode run. Hell, if this were a cable show, we’d be at the season finale anyway. You would expect something eventful to happen in Episode 13.

I turned down sex three times in one night last week. That should let you know where this is going.