I love this movie. I saw it in the theater with my father. Two weeks later I dragged him to Mean Girls. 2004 was a magical spring. That poor man.
Yes, 30 was looming, but first I had some shenanigans as a 29-year-old to endure!
My timeline is going to get messed up because I am now 30 and my memory is fading, but I believe this episode starts at UpDown, the new video arcade in Minneapolis. We had heard about it and thought it sounded fun. I had decided that because I wanted to look and feel best during the biggest show of my career, that I was going to be sober between Pride and the show. It would just be two and a half weeks and I could do it.
I met Steve at UpDown, and Joey and Charlie soon followed. It is really fun! My only recommendation or complaint would be that you should definitely pay cash or close your tab right away, because when they take your card you have to literally be like a private investigator to track down your bartender. We kept confusing this poor girl with another girl who worked there and it was kind of annoying. Other than that, it was a hell of a time. Joey is obsessed with MarioKart but I can't play it to save my life, so I suggested games from my youth like Tetris and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.
"You guys can name all the ninja turtles, right?" I asked my posse.
They looked at me blankly. Good God. Was this an age thing? I had flashbacks to daycare when we would role play Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, but there were too many boys to claim the roles of the turtles, Shredder, and Splinter, and we only had one girl who always got to be April O'Neill, so I always had to be April's loser friend Irma.
Me on a Saturday night.
"Oh my God," I sputtered. "I'll give you a hint. They were all named after artists."
"Leonardo DiCaprio," Joey guessed.
"Oh, wait, I know!" Steve cried. "Georgia O'Keefe!"
Then we played a zombie game where you had to go through this big mansion and there were so many zombies. Steve was almost bored playing it but I still gave him all my coins because I wanted to see him beat the big giant scary butterfly monster thing.
After our excursion at the arcade, we decided to have happy hour at moto-I, where I have never been! This was close to Joey's new apartment.
Oh my god, I forgot to tell you. Joey is MOVING. Why is this show even called Loring Park (Adjacent) anymore? Originally he was going to move to St. Louis Park, and I handed him a butcher knife from the kitchen drawer and told him to just finish me already. Uptown isn't necessarily far from Stevens Square, but the era of me walking to his place or crashing at his place after The Saloon would now be over, and I had to mourn it as yet another example that this, the year of 30, was going to bring changes.
"It's not like he's moving back to Wisconsin!" my mother told me when I was freaking out about it.
My friend Jack was also pragmatic. "It is the natural evolution of a gay man in Minneapolis," he said. "First a gay man moves downtown and gets all the clubbing out of his system. Then they move to uptown. Then they move to St. Louis Park. Then they move far away to the suburbs and are never seen again."
I had images of Joey inviting me via snail mail to his birthday barbecue in Plymouth and shuddered at the thought. My poor baby!
Anyway, we were up at moto-I at the rooftop, and I declared that I was not drinking for a week so I would have a tonic water please, while the boys enjoyed adult beverages. The food was delicious. Charlie had to go back to his home in St. Paul (he's close St. Paul, though, like by UST), and the three of us went back to the house to watch the Beyonce visual album Lemonade. Unfortunately, I couldn't find the remote after moving back to the house, so we couldn't fast-forward anything and and to watch it straight through.
"I just don't get this," Joey said about every video.
"I want to get laid," said Steve after every video.
"You boys are stressing me out!" I cried. "I need a drink!" Steve and Joey looked at each other like children when Mommy is off her medicine. And thus ended my flirtation with sobriety. I felt bad about myself for drinking again and then drank more to feel less bad about myself. I had only been holding myself accountable -- I didn't pledge to anybody else that I would do this sober kick, and the only person I was letting down was myself (and maybe my mother) -- but it still felt like an internal failure on my part.
I'm trying hard to get excited for Pride. Maybe it's because I think I'm getting old or have a gut or don't feel like I can afford to go anywhere (not that such a thought will stop me. Did I mention I'm in debt consolidation? And that I am not in debt because of hardship but because of serious impulse control problems?) I must remind myself that this weekend is not about looking good in swim trunks but about freedom of expression, self-acceptance, and being lucky enough to spend time with supportive family and friends.
While driving to South Dakota last weekend, I put in a mix CD called "Songs About Leaving", that I made when I knew I was leaving UW-Stout (ultimately one of the saddest chapters of my life, but that's for an entirely different novel). I had no idea what songs would be on there, only that I knew none of them would be older than 2007 (I am OLD, my children). Track #9 was "My Wish" by Rascal Flatts. I remember my mother loved that song and encouraged me to put it on CD mixes for all the young people in her life. And even though our relationship was absolutely terrible at that time, I had appreciated her for thinking that, and resented myself that I was too blinded by anger to see her the way my friends did.
And then I bawled my eyes out until the song was over because even though I didn't graduate from either of the colleges I went to and I'm *still* being helped by my parents on the edge of 30, I was driving four and a half hours by myself to a venue in which I was going to get paid because people believed I was actually talented and good at something and worth the amount I requested.
I never saw the contract until after the trip and I was supposed to do a lot more work than I actually did. Lesson #300: Always check your e-mail if you're going to be a professional, and being worried about a Christian radio host replying to a novel you sent her at 3:11 in the morning is not an excuse to avoid your e-mail. In a tangent, she wrote me back and it was absolutely breathtaking. Her name is Susie Larson and her show is called "Live the Promise" and today the topic was about avoiding WORRY. I am sending her a Christmas card, but because this is me, she probably won't get it until February.
I have been missing somebody to the point of insomnia, chest pain and gastric distress. I am learning it's okay. From the first time we met I had been convinced that this person greatly needed ME, but now I have realized how self-centered such a notion is. This is a person who needs God and a good therapist, and there's not a damn thing I can do about it. Our last conversation ended with "I'm gonna need a few days" before the car door shut and sped away in the darkness. That was 57 days ago. Not that I am counting.
A month later I would have a nervous breakdown in the parking lot of a hospital and a nurse in a yellow sweater found me and walked me to my appointment. If you are going to have a nervous breakdown, do it at a hospital. Everyone acts like it's totally normal. Yellow is a calming color. Rosie O'Donnell has written essays about yellow, how it is the color of everything that is real and how she felt fame took it away from her. I tweeted her about my meltdown and that the nurse wore yellow. "Nurses r the best," she wrote back. My mother is a nurse. This is not a coincidence.
I have no idea where I was going with this. -Facebook rant, June 24th
I was in a strange mood as Pride loomed. It wasn't just about my body. I mean, yes, I should work out, and I was never fat, nor was I ever ripped in years previous, but this is my last summer of my twenties (kind of) and maybe I was projecting.
The first omen that things would turn around happened when my boss said I could be off on Friday! I was leery of asking for Thursday and Friday off since I had asked for every other weekend off in June due to the Sioux Falls gig and my uncle's wedding. Jared wanted to host a big Pre-Pride party on Friday and I had planned on working until six o'clock and coming home to bitch at everyone.
I used this same .gif during last year's Pride episode! Thursday night I met Jared and Joey at Honey for Flip Phone, which is one of the first unofficial events of Pride. Just like last year, I totally forgot how long the line was going to be! I was late because I was Nairing at my mother's house. "Jacob!" she cried. "That smell is going to burn down the house!"
Joey and Jared let me do cutsies and I immediately felt the rage of those who were behind us and pretending to be our friends. It still took us 45 minutes to get in because the club was at capacity.
"This line is longer than my last relationship," I lamented.
"If this was your last relationship there wouldn't even be a line!" cried Jared.
It should be noted that my Grindr profile says I just got out of a really bad non-relationship and I still think that way.
It took us about 45 minutes to get into Honey, but once we did, it was its usual blast. I did the "Heartbreaker" rap while dancing with Under Armour and he was impressed because he hasn't seen me do it 50 times like everybody else has.
Little did all of us know how our lives would be changed forever the next day.
Previously on the series finale* of Loring Park ...
Jakey had an illuminating card reading! The boys found a new apartment! Jakey lost his wallet AND locked his keys in the car.
We said good-bye to Loring Park.
We live by Stevens Square Park now. It doesn't sound as sexy. I just call it Loring Park Adjacent. It's not necessarily a new show. We still have the same friends, work at the same job, and take the same exit off the freeway.
And we have a million shows on our TV which means I should stop going out all the damn time. I should buy a yoga mat to tell myself I will do crunches, but in reality I'll probably just end up eating nachos. I'm going to the Lake Calhoun pool party over Pride weekend and even though Chad Kampe (DJ Fancy Restaurant) told me they do "no body-shaming", I'm still worried I am going to be mistaken for a buoy.
***
"I trusted you," he said, and even next to me he sounded distant.
"I know," I said. "I'm sorry."
Sorry is about as effective as epsom salts for a headache. Despite any benevolence in my intentions, I had lied. And then I lied about lying. As Judge Judy says, you have to tell the truth because you eventually won't be able to keep your story straight.
He dropped me off at my parents' house at 3 AM where I promptly peed about a gallon on their front lawn.
"Text me when you get home," I said.
"No," he said. "I can't talk to you right now. It will be a few days."
It has been a month now. I am okay.
By "okay" I mean that my heart physically hurts and I have spent the last month walking around feeling like I have an open wound and I haven't been sleeping and even when I was in the same room as one of my personal heroes (we'll get to that later), I couldn't stop thinking about it. Out of anxiety, I have bitten my lips to the point that I resemble Angelina Jolie if she had canker sores.
I am sad. So damn sad. But integrity has to trump your own emotions and preferences. He might not ever speak to me again, and that would be entirely his prerogative. I coped by listening to Christian radio and eating a lot of gummy bears. The hole in my heart transferred to a hole in my stomach lining.
I also listened to "Infinity" over and over, because I will always have Mariah.
And if I forget about this whole thing, May was a pretty damn good month.
***
For one thing, we moved! My grandparents helped out and it wasn't nearly as arduous as I thought it would be, but moving is still never fun. I'm convinced that our rent will go way up next year, but if it doesn't, Jared and I are staying here until we are 40 (unless he gets married or I decide to move back to New York). Also, you will be shocked, just SHOCKED, to learn that in the moment we were to turn in our keys was also the moment that I locked my keys in the car. Again.
The stress of moving was so great that I went back to the closet. #muffintop
We live in the bottom half of a basement in Stevens Square. It has been a month and I still haven't made any dumb jokes about us being bottoms. The lady upstairs is also the caretaker of the house. Jared has met her and says she's really nice. I have never met her but I didn't know that our driveway was shared and on the very first day, I was greeted with a note that read:
Please park all the way to the right so I don't have to park all the way in the trees. Seriously. Who does that????
My very first passive-aggressive note! Never change, Minnesota.
My favorite people are the ones that you can't make up. I don't just think that way about my fake boyfriends. Maybe it's the wannabe journalist in me.
Speaking of being a wannabe journalist, I still haven't heard from St. Thomas yet! I was doing an open mike at The Chatterbox (hosted by the lovely and talented Rana May) and I ended up driving down Cretin Avenue toward St. Thomas. Even though I was right by Paul Ryan's house, I wasn't even thinking about him! I mean, kind of. But as "All I Want for Christmas is You" was blaring, I realized that all I wanted was to be a Tommy!
They e-mailed me and said they needed my transcript from MCTC. Then they e-mailed me and said that my MCTC transcript said that I went to Kingsborough Community College (which is in Brooklyn -- maybe CUNY Brooklyn would have deferred me there had I stayed as I technically flunked my second semester?) and that I had 12 credits from a non-U.S. school. That sounds lovely and interesting, but it wasn't my life.
At that point I was going to give up, but people accurately on Facebook told me that I had come too far to just quit. So on Christmas Eve Eve, I went into the offices of MCTC, immediately had PTSD, received my accurate transcript, and dropped it off at St. Thomas. I would return to that neighborhood again that evening, but we'll get there later.
Because first I have to tell you about the time Joey and I hung out with a porn star!
It was soooo weird. We were at The Saloon and this attractive boy told us he was having an after-party. He was very good-looking in a dirty way. Tall, kinda scruffy, piercing blue eyes, lanky but toned body. Since I never go to the club until midnight and I always take a 5-hour energy shot like a moron, I was all for an after-party. Joey paid for the Lyft and we took it to the wrong side of town at first.
I forget if we knew then he did porn or if it wasn't until we got to his house. And I shouldn't be throwing around the phrase "porn star" because I think if you even do one porno, you're certified as a "star". I don't know. All I can say is we got to his house at 3:30 A.M. and holy crap, am I in the wrong business. He had beautiful artwork done for him by a fan in Japan. We discussed how much he paid for rent here as opposed to his life in New York. "I used to live in New York," I had said about eight times. I fantasized about a different life, in which I had a good body and a healthy appetite for sex. I was even realistic in this fantasy because I am 28 and now I'm too old for twink porn and could only maintain my career if I gained 50 pounds of muscle, stopped shaving my body hair and became an otter muscle top, and that is not going to happen anytime soon.
Anygay, there were two other dudes there that were older than us, and Joey went upstairs to watch American Horror Story with them. Here I was, standing in front of a kitchen island, with this beautiful strange man who can't stop making "meow" sounds.
"I like cosplay," he said. "My favorite is Gambit."
"Gambit is Cajun," I said. "Can you do a Cajun accent?"
"No," he said. "But I can show you my costume." Then he changed into his Gambit outfit and slightly lifted up his shirt and oh, boyyyyyyyyyyy.
Somehow we got on the topic of height because I am good at flirting. "I'm not that tall," he said. "I'm 6'2'."
"That's tall," I said. (Height is a fascinating topic to me, really. Joey is 6'2" and often laments that there's not enough tall men at the clubs, and this is Minneapolis. Men were always my height or shorter in NYC). "I'm only 5'7'."
"Really?" Porn Dude smiled. "No you're not. You're way taller."
Then he walked around the island.
"Oh," he said, almost disappointed. "I thought you were sitting down."
"Maybe I want to sit somewhere else," I said as I ripped his Gambit outfit off. Then he picked me up by the armpits, sat me down on the kitchen island and banged me senselessly and the men upstairs in the loft watching American Horror Story had a raucous three-way above us.
OK, that last part didn't really happen. I just thought the story should have had sex in it at some point.
The five of us ended up going to the Nicollet Diner as opposed to the Uptown Diner, a fact I enjoyed because that meant Joey and I could walk home. I played Mariah Carey on the jukebox and the waiter rolled his eyes. I already have a rep there. They have TouchTones! I can even play "One More Try"! As I sat across from the meowing porn star, I realized ...
Holy crap. I've met him before!!!
He has no idea who I am, but I put the memories together and no longer felt insecure about myself. Behold, this episode from December 2012:
Victor had two ridiculously attractive boys with him, one of whom had a T-shirt on advertising a porn site. I didn’t speak to him at LUSH, but he was in our eyesight at The Eagle, where I overpaid the jukebox to play “We Belong Together”.
“We were friends on Facebook,” Liam was telling the porn star.
“You deleted me,” Porn Guy insisted.
“What? I wouldn’t do that,” Liam balked. “Oh, this is Jakey. He thinks you’re really hot.”
“Wait, what?!” I balked, and then I got lost in his lapis eyes. “I don’t -- I mean, I’m not, like ---Hi, how are you? I’m just -- Mariah.”
“Are you, like, really shy around guys or something?” Porn Guy asked. Then I imagined he was really good at kissing.
Those were the days! He showed up on my Facebook 'People You May Know' the next day. I added him back and he added me back three weeks later, but only because he got spammed and his profile was trying to get me to buy Ray-Bans. Such is life. On we go.
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.
Hello, children! We are in November already! It was a crazy
October, and that’s even if I didn’t
go on a trip that I couldn’t afford.
***
I saw Gone Girl.
What did you think? They showed a preview of 50 Shades of Grey and I started giggling. It is worth noting that I
saw it with two cute boys and purposely sat in the middle. I am 12 years old.
The dude on my left yelled “Son of a bitch” at the two hour mark because he had
a leg cramp and I almost spilled my orange soda on the boy on my right. I
cannot have nice things.
Y’know what was nice? Doing comedy at Nye’s! It
unfortunately no longer has the room because show business is the devil. I met
up with Dennis that night and we went to the Gay ‘90s, which has a $10 cover on
Thursdays. And I wonder how I went bankrupt (it’s because they have dollar
drinks, but I am a princess who eschews rail drinks. Dennis bought me something
with Ketel in it and I quit pouting). Dennis grew up in Miami, so I spent most
of the evening asking him stupid questions about it. The essentials were that
a) everyone looks like a body builder so I will fit right in and b) it is
expensive as fuck. Oh, good.
We made our way down Hennepin to The Saloon, and I ran into
Kevin! Kevin has a new job and a leather jacket and an earring and maybe it’s a
total quarter life crisis (boy did
just turn 31), but he was rocking a Johnny Depp look and I wasn’t nearly as
sloppy drunk as I was the last time I saw him. I ignored him for 15 minutes
even though he was right next to me because he had hurt my feelings.
“You told me to go home,” I told him
“You were really sloppy,” he said.
“I guess I was,” I agreed.
“I haven’t heard from you,” he said.
“Well, I didn’t know the boundaries,” I said. Kevin is
living a new healthy lifestyle and I don’t know if it appropriate for me to make
contact with him considering I am a partyhound booze bag.
“You have a phone,” he said. I told him that once and it
really hurt his feelings.
We went to his house together. Jared was livid because he
thought I was driving, but hell froze over and Kevin drives now! I am enjoying this new version of him.
There was no sexy time except spooning and that is fine
because he is good at it. Some men really hate it (including Jared. He hated
sharing a bed with Joey in Florida because “Joey is like a damn cat”). Kevin
treats it like a sport. He takes it full on and puts his arms around me like he
means it, and I slept like a smiling baby. His cat woke me up at noon while
Kevin had been productive all morning, because I am a great guest that way.
When he dropped me off at work, I caressed his chest like a
slut. I haven’t seen him since. Timing is everything.
“I’m not wearing a suit,” I blasted. He told tales of travel
and debauchery and his plans for New Year’s Eve. I ordered a non-alcoholic
drink with orange juice and Red Bull in it, because I like to gamble with my
digestive system. He ordered a sparkling water and we got it comped when he was
given flat water instead.
“It’s so nice to see you not drunk,” he said.
“And with clothes on,” I said, trying to be funny and sexy.
“Oh,” he said. “Oh, that’s right. I forgot about that.”
“I didn’t mean it like that,” he said.
“It’s fine,” I pouted.
Somehow my ID ended up on the table.
“You’re 27?” he asked.
“You’re bad at math,” I said, and then lowered myself to a
whisper. “I’m 28.”
“You’re so cute,” he said. “With your big eyes and the fast
way you walk.”
I squinted, because that is how I react to compliments.
***
I thoroughly enjoyed my visit to University of St. Thomas! I
still have no idea if I will get in, in part because it has been three weeks
and I still haven’t sent my ACT
scores and AP scores and I have to send a letter defending myself because I
never officially withdrew from CUNY Brooklyn College and I might be dealing
with a whole semester of F’s. Although, I don’t think I technically took
anything higher than fourth grade math.
But that’s the strategy of my life lately. Throw things to
the wall and see what sticks. My friend Shelly thought this was profound and
took a weekend gig playing piano at a theater camp. “Theater people are so expressive,” she told me. “And my shower
didn’t work so the choreographers said I could use their bathroom. I think they
had every single hygiene product ever made in their shower! They had at least
three different shampoos! And we were only there for a weekend!”
My best friend Erin works at UST, so she joined my tour.
Since I hadn’t taken a college tour since 2007, I thought it would be a group
setting. No! It was just me and an accounting major! She was very sweet and
planned to return to Omaha after graduation to work at her parents’ landfill.
This was the day of the shooting in Ottawa, and we had a measured and
interesting conversation about guns. I enjoyed it. I also enjoyed walking by
the gym, because I am only woman.
I didn’t feel like I totally belonged until I met my
transfer advisor, who teared up when she told me how much she loved the
university and when I told her about being named Funniest Person in the Twin
Cities and writing a Fringe Festival show about unrequited love, her eyes
widened.
“You’re not very old, are you?” she asked.
“I’m 28,” I said.
“Well, you look ten years younger,” she said. “And you’ve
accomplished so much in your young life.”
That might have been worth more than the damn degree.
I have no idea if I get in, if I will go, or what I will think of myself if I get in or if I do not get in.
Work is ... promising. Like, I might even be perceived as an adult there. I just had my six-year anniversary. Now, if only I could get my ass out of bed and on time. You'd think I would have this down by 28.
***
It was the day before Labor Day when Paul Ryan asked if I wanted to go to his house and cavort with his frat bro friends. While that sounded lovely, I already decided I was going to head to The Slutoon (shocking!). Jared decided he wasn't going out, and Joey reluctantly agreed to ride in the Uber with me provided he got shotgun, and we would Uber to pick up Paul Ryan -- who lives near the University of St. Thomas -- and then head to The Saloon.
Um, y'know how Uber has "peak rates"? I have never paid more than $10 for an Uber, although I have admittedly only taken it as far as Northeast Minneapolis from Loring Park. Apparently, everyone and their dog wanted an Uber to celebrate Labor Day, because it would have cost $100 round trip to pick up Paul Ryan in one and have us be delivered to The Saloon. And let's not get started on the ridiculousness of the fact that I would be paying for the Uber despite the fact that Paul Ryan had just told me how much he made last month and it is more than I make in a year. Stay in school, kids.
Since I hadn't started drinking yet, I decided I would pick up Paul Ryan myself and then the three of us would walk to The Saloon together.
"I can't believe you're doing this," Joey kept saying as I was getting dressed.
"I know," I said. "But think of it as me being Mommy and I am trying to find a good stepdad for you."
It was raining, and I was already wet when I walked up Lasalle Avenue in my usual parking spot (right next to an always-empty commercial parking lot -- so Mona, my tina Toyota Yaris, usually scoots in. I used to park across from there but I got a $35 parking ticket once). I put music on and ventured to St. Paul, where I am sure I made a fool of myself trying to park and nearly causing a three-vehicle crash (seriously, there were at least three different frat boys standing in their yards amidst the commotion).
I walked into Paul's house and lamented that I didn't have an umbrella. "I have one," he said.
"Good," I said. "Now put on your pants. We are leaving."
"Jakey," he grinned. "Don't you want a cocktail first?"
"No," I said. "I am driving. And I'm all wet. Do you have a hoodie I can steal?" I used to do this when I went to Kevin's house all the time. Kleptomania is part of my charm.
"You can have my Cambridge one," Paul Ryan offered.
"Oh, that looks too expensive," I said. Even Kleptomaniacs have morals. "I'll just take this one." I chose a waterproof blue reversible Billabong zip-up hoodie. Paul Ryan chose a Polo button-up, shorts, and Boss suede shoes.
"Suede?" I asked. "It's raining."
"They're already ruined anyway," he laughed. "I don't care. Why aren't you parked in front of the house?"
"Because I got disoriented and I can't parallel park to save my life," I said. "Now walk fast."
"We're walking by my car," Paul Ryan shared. "I have a Toyota Escalade."
"I have a Toyota Yaris," I said. "Her name is Mona."
"Aww," he said. "We both have Toyotas. We have so much in common, Jakey."
Interestingly enough, a Toyota Yaris is compact and frisky while a Toyota Escalade is large and ostentatious. Sometimes, we are what we drive.
We entered the car, and Paul Ryan, as the tallest person to ever ride shotgun with me, looked absolutely cramped.
"I'm sorry," I said. "It's not really a tall-person car."
"You drive like a white person," Paul Ryan said.
"I still haven't finished my college application," I said.
"Finish it, bro," he said. "That place needs people like you. Everyone there is so ... sheltered. You would have a unique perspective."
We drove up to Lasalle Avenue and my spot was taken! Curses! To Clifton it was.
"Paul, I am very bad at parking," I explained. "You have to do what Jared does and look back and tell me if I have room."
"Remember when I fucked you?" he asked.
"Paul!" I cried as I almost hit a construction cone. "Now is not the time."
"Jakey," he laughed. "Your leg is brushing up against mine. You're getting me hard right now."
"Paul Ryan!" I cried as Mona brushed up against the curb. "Focus!"
"I was pretty intoxicated when we had sex," he said.
"Yes, well," I said as I felt my face get hot. "You clearly knew what you were doing."
"Really?" Paul Ryan asked. "Cool." Boys are soooooooo stupid.
We got out of the car and stood across of a house for sale. "Why would you want a house downtown?" he asked. "Especially Minneapolis. I would never want to live here."
"I want that house," I said.
"Of course it's a Corbett Realty property," Paul scoffed.
"I would like a house for my thirtieth birthday," I said as we walked arm-in-arm, prom-style.
"Really? Not like a trip or something?""
"I just think it would be nice to have a house," I said. "That isn't my parents'."
We arrived back at my apartment and pre-gamed. Paul Ryan was incredulous that Jared was not going and cajoled him to join us. By cajole, I mean he told Jared he would pay for his cover, and Jared got dressed in 45 seconds. Paul Ryan passed the time by trying to show me and Joey his nudie pics, but I would have none of it.
On the walk there, Paul Ryan and I shared an umbrella. I always fake date boys who are rather masculine. This makes me feel guilty for a variety of reasons. As a result, every now and then I have an intense need to demonstrate that I can be "the boy" when needed. Therefore, I insisted on holding the umbrella. However, this did not really work because Paul Ryan is seven or eight inches taller than me.
"Jakey," he scoffed. "I'm getting wet."
"Then you hold the umbrella," I said. "God damn."
We arrived and Paul Ryan took back his offer on paying Jared's cover. Jared started walking home in the rain. I got him to come back.
"I want to go shake my thing," Paul Ryan said. He and Jared did so while I mingled and gossiped. Paul went home with a twink and Joey was outraged the next morning.
"What an asshole!" Joey cried. "I can't believe he would do that."
"I wasn't even mad about it," I said.
"Why not?!" Joey cried.
"Because we never made plans for after," I said. "And I have his hoodie."
I still do, by the way. It is comfortable as all hell and I am not giving it back.
***
I went to the State Fair! I would post pictures but I have temporarily de-activated my Facebook. I will explain this later.
It was lovely to spend time with my extended family, even though the bus ride was horrendous. The driver begged me to wait for the next bus, but I said "I'm little" and stood between a group of mean seventh-graders. I hung on for dear life.
***
I had the opportunity to meet Detox at The Saloon a few Thursdays ago. I further recapped it here. She didn't get on stage until 11:40 (doors opened at 10) ,but she was beyond gracious and genuine during her Meet and Greet, and I felt The Saloon had things organized much better than when DWV appeared last April. I gushed about how when she performed with Battle of the Seasons at the Varsity Theater in December, she was the only queen who gave a genuine, heartfelt speech about being there for the fans. I knew at least two people who went to her after party, so she is a friend in my head. Special thank you to Liam for taking the picture of us, because I am an excellent photojournalist and therefore my phone was dead by the time I got to go up in the line.
Also, Christ, I am getting old and fat.
And when I am older and fatter, I will look at that picture and think of myself as gorgeous, because life is like that.
***
I had the most "Jakey"-ish night on a Thursday, when I did stand-up comedy at Nye's Polonaise Lounge! It is a great room that they run on Thursdays, where you are in the basement and it feels like an old-timey club. A really cute boy that I used to work with was there. I went up first, which is always difficult, and the way the light is run there, you can't see for shit when you're onstage, an aspect I have yet to get used to. This was the day after the news of Adrian Peterson allegedly beating his 2-year-old was released.
"I'm going first and there's, like, 17 of us tonight," I told the audience. "And we're all gonna want to be cutting-edge and ahead of everything when it comes to current events. So, I thought of a game. Just drink every time someone makes an Adrian Peterson joke. And hopefully you have a sober cab, because you are going to be flat on your ass. Much like you would be if you were dating an NFL player. That counts. Drink!" I had fun.
I stayed until the show ended, as is the polite thing to do (and it's not like I was in a hurry! Afterward I was going to Honey, which was just across the street). As I mingled, a comedian who I had never seen before came up to me.
"You're awesome," she said.
"I did okay," I said. I need to read Lean In.
"No, I'm serious," she said. "If you work hard, you're going to be a star. Even your voice is funny. And your material is smart."
Well, shmuck.
But isn't that a novel concept? That you will be a success ... if you work hard. I lost that somewhere. I dropped out of school at 21, was still furious with my mother for ruining my life and was still furious with myself for thinking she had ruined it, and I just kinda gave up, but I also thought that I would somehow still become rich and famous.
Huh.
The evening was marred because Joey and Jared were feuding, but I fixed it when we got home. Joey saves his emotions for when he can no longer accept them, and Jared is constantly on a stealth audition for The Bad Girls Club. I suppose this is the best dramatic re-enactment of it all:
The three of us, along with my best friend Erin McCloskey and my reading-to-filth mother, will be going to Miami together at the end of the month. Thoughts and prayers are appreciated.
***
There is a new boy in our group named Steve who just turned 21 and is smooth-skinned and babyfaced and therefore everyone is in love with him. I haven't decided yet, so I just hug him more than is appropriate. I don't think he has it figured out.
We like Owen, too. He works at The Saloon and is kind of a dork trapped in a hot model's body. Some people are just cursed that way.
Cordero brought me too many drinks at The 19 but then Dollface showed up so I spent all night flirting with him like an asshole. And then I didn't even go home with him! I don't know what I am doing.
I did get a parking spot now, so there's that. I pay $75 to a former Marine named Lowell who is approximately 100 years old and as many pounds. He has a tiny flip phone. I love him.
***
Speaking of not knowing what I'm doing, I went from being an MTV alcoholic to an A&E alcoholic. It was time to dial it back, as the kids say.
The kids don't really say that, Jakey.
Shut up! I am hip!
On a Friday, I was supposed to meet everyone at LUSH, but Jared left without me, so I pouted at The 19, and then I took an Uber to Sean's, and I pre-gamed at his place and then met the kids at The Saloon. Paul Ryan was there and could barely stand up. He travels with an entourage, so they walked him out in one piece.
Then Kevin was there.
"Jakey, we need to go home," said Jared. "We work early."
"Go away!" I cried. "It's Kevin!"
In my head I was all
But instead I was probably all
I had not seen him in four months and did not know what I was expecting.
"You should go home," he told me.
"My family doesn't ask about you anymore," he added. "And I lost weight, which I know you cared so much about."
He did look very much like the 'old Kevin' (well, young Kevin, if you know what I mean). I wasn't going to go home with him anyway, but it would have been nice to be asked. And I get why he said what he did, because it is human nature to want to win. I've done the same thing with other people.
But why was he so standoffish with me? I wasn't that drunk and sloppy.
My Facebook at 3:30 AM said I AM SO SAD.
Okay. Maybe I was.
Sunday was an even bigger shitshow!
I met up with Jared and Joey at The Eagle and we received applause by re-enacting the lift during "(I Have Had) The Time Of My Life". My Uber driver was new to the job and did not listen to directions. When I got there, Joey and Jared were talking to Ricky! The nerve! I acted like a wife who had walked into her husband banging the secretary on the desk.
"It wasn't like that," they promised. "He just came up to us."
"Whatever!" I cried. "This is a betrayal!"
I went to order my drink and was even more horrified when the bartender called me Ricky!
"Um, what?" I asked.
"Do you know Ricky?" the bartender said.
"Yes, but I'm not him," I said.
"He spilled his drink," the bartender said.
I get that The Eagle staff is not fond of the twinks and the twink-adjacent, and I was an odd mix of offended and flattered. Ricky and I are both blond, but he is tan and buff and can have his shirt off in public without people averting their eyes. I wasn't sure what to think.
We tried running to The Saloon but we got there at 9:59 and the bouncers claimed it was ten and made us pay cover. The nerve!
Oh, it went from bad to worse, children. Because Sunday is 2-4-1's night. And Sunday is football day. And boys were wearing Vikings jerseys. And one boy was wearing an Adrian Peterson jersey.
I immediately went to Facebook and typed that there was a hot guy in an AP jersey and I wasn't sure how I felt about it. Then I drank some more. Then I went on the patio and told everyone.
"Oh my god!" cried my friend Doug. My friend Doug is, like a biochemist or something that requires 130% of your brain power, so when he parties, he parties hard. "You should spank him!" he cried.
"THAT SOUNDS HILARIOUS!" I cried. In my vodka-soaked stupor, this would be my finest hour. I'd spank him on the ass, he'd be all "What was that for?', I'd be like "You're wearing an AP jersey!" and we would all laugh and be merry.
Short-term effects of alcohol include the risk of injuries, violence and fetal damage.[11] Alcohol has also been linked with lowered inhibitions, though it is unclear to what degree this is chemical versus psychological as studies with placebos can often duplicate the social effects of alcohol at low to moderate doses. Some studies have suggested that intoxicated people have much greater control over their behavior than is generally recognized, though they have a reduced ability to evaluate the consequences of their behavior.
Now imagine you are a young and attractive gay man -- for some of you this may be a stretch -- and you are at The Saloon with a group of your peers. You are there to have a good time. You are not there to get spanked on the ass by an old, intoxicated skinny dude who thinks his assaulting you is hilarious.
Of course, one understands this the next day. When they're sober.
So I spanked the kid. And he did the best and worst thing he could have done, which was not respond to it at all. I walked back to the patio with my proverbial tail between my legs. My joke completely bombed.
A boy who looked like he could be on Teen Wolf came up to me moments later. "Hey," he said calmly. "I just want you to know, next time you feel like spanking my boyfriend again, you're gonna have to go through me first. Fuck off."
It was really the perfect thing a boyfriend could have done. He wasn't all machismo about it -- he never raised his voice or his hand -- but he let the point be clear. Even though I told Facebook that I spanked the kid and he was trying to get me out (and it had 13 likes! In one hour!), I deleted the whole thing when I got home. By protesting what I thought was a perceived acceptance of violence with violence, I had solved nothing, I had likely ruined someone's night, and I had made a complete ass of myself in the process.
The next day I realized that I still had not finished my college application, I still had not launched JakeyEmmert.com despite going to a former high school classmate's house for a gracious offering of Weebly 101, and in general, I was just becoming super obnoxious.
I de-activated my Facebook.
Which is super stupid to do for my "comedy" "career", but that's going about as well as spanking strangers at the bar.
It will be back up when the website is up.
It's strangely freeing not being on Facebook. Now every time my phone dings, I think it's something important. Then I find out that it's spam from Twitter or my friend Chuck telling me he has gas, but still! It's better than compulsively checking Facebook, right? I would post, like, eight things a day. And then You-Know-Who would be "online", with a green dot next to his name, and I would just sit and stare at it but never think of talking to him because I had nothing to say, and then the green dot would disappear, and I would just get sad about the whole thing. STILL.
I should apologize to the dude I hit, but I don't know his name. Maybe it's best to let sleeping dogs lie. Maybe he's not really that mad about it. Maybe he'll throw a drink on me the next time I go to The Saloon. Maybe his boyfriend will bash my skull in. Maybe I'll send them both matching Bridgewater jerseys.
Next week: Will Jakey really get his website done? Will he really stay in during all of October because he wants to look like a human when he goes to Miami?
I never have a sexy Fourth of July. I worked this year.
It's okay. I got all of Pride weekend off, then I worked for nine days, then I had my birthday weekend off (which I'll get to), then I worked for nine days again. I was like a flight attendant, but in retail. It was exhausting but also rewarding, the latter of which as a reminder that if I am going to go to all these events and be at the bar all the time, I have to have money to pay for all of that.
We did go out on the Fourth, though. After work, I stopped at The Saloon (shocking!) with Joey. We met with Charlie and his roommate. Esquire, Doug, and Chuck were there. I felt patriotic and happy.
Three drinks later, I was feeling less happy.
Last year on the Fourth of July, I went to Kevin's house. And that's not necessarily even a good memory, because we ended up driving with his mom and stepdad to try to watch the fireworks and it was an epic fail, and I left without saying good-bye to him because he took a phone call from his friend and talked for over half an hour (and subsequently texted me that I was a drama queen when I got home), but it was still my only Fourth of July memory that involves a boy. Also, I was working at House of Comedy that week and felt like a real comedian.
A year had passed and I was still pining about boys that were not there (by my fourth drink, I looked at the door and thought of a certain person walking through the door and how I would feel if he did -- would my heart jump again? Probably), and so far this year as a comedian I have made less than $100, and even that was from gigs that I got literally the day of and could not have done had I been working at my real job that weekend.
So I was sad.
The next day, Charlie freaked out via text message that I was mad at him because he had been flirting with Esquire. This made me feel terrible! I adore Charlie. He, Becks, his roommate and a gal pal even saw me do comedy on a Monday night at Tryg's! We were doing a roast for a gay comedian who is younger and skinnier than me but was moving back to Seattle.
"Oh my god," I wrote. "I was sad about a lot of things, but not that. I can't call dibs on every boy at the bar. You can make out with anybody you want.
Unless it's Kevin (who you can't stand)
Or Wesley (which would never happen)
Or Joey (because he's like my kid and that's weird)
Or Celebrity
Or Channing Tatum
Or Football Guy, because I have a crush on him this week."
"Football Guy wants my ass," Charlie said.
Then I quickly changed tune.
"DOOO ITTTTTT," I wrote. "And tell me all about it."
"You want me to vicariously fuck him?" Charlie asked. "I don't really like him that much."
"If you were a true friend, you would," I insisted. Not only is Football Guy totally out of my league, but I have the sex life of a nun. I am like the awful girlfriend you had in tenth grade, where I am jealous all the time but when you get me alone I only want to cuddle.
It has been so long, dear readers! I don't even have an excuse why this episode took two months to post. Some of it was kind of painful, so we'll go with that.
Chapter 1: Easter
I GOT PREGNANT.
Okay, not really.
But I'm struggling with my body.
When I'm naked, I have a flat somach.
When I put clothes on, this happens.
Yes, I *do* need to exercise more and tone things up, but I don't have a gut until I get dressed. Then a magic muffin top appears. I'm 5'7" with a crazy short torso, and I'm constantly standing next to people with great bodies. This is Robin, and he has abs you could grate cheese on.
Why did I bring up cheese? Now I just want some mozzarella sticks.
Anyway, this picture was taken on Easter Sunday, and was a lot of fun! I went with Jared, and we sat with some co-workers and Chuck. When I walked inside, Chuck's brother's roommate -- who is handsome and hetero -- was there with his girlfriend. I asked them if they would be willing to play a game with me. Let me tell you, this random 6'2" blonde dude played his part perfectly.
We went back to the patio where my friends were sitting, when the dude came up to me and said the line I gave him. "Jakey," he said. "You ... You didn't call me."
My female co-worker looked shocked.
"Well, I've been really busy," I said. "You look good."
"Thanks," he said. "I'm ... uh .... here with my girlfriend."
"Oh!" I cried, doing my best Emmy acting. "Hi. Nice to meet you."
They walked back inside and my co-worker was beside herself. "What was that?!" she cried. I love acting.
My mother soon picked us up to bring us to our grandparents' house for Easter. Jared had maybe one too many mimosas, and I was worried about him appearing too drunk for a religious holiday. Unfortunately, I was the one who came across as hammered when my Grandma Shirley opened the door.
"Where did the bathroom go?" were my first words. In my defense, they just moved to the townhouse and I had forgotten!
The dinner was delicious, and I felt grateful that my definition of family has been broadened. I was moving in with Jared soon, and while I describe him as my nonsexual life partner in a joking kind of way, he really is that, just in the way that Erin is my platonic soulmate and Joey is my adopted son. I fell asleep on my grandparents' bed, Jared fell asleep on the living room, and we were still more fun than my brother would have been. (I kid!)
On the way back to LUSH, I was freaking out because I thought I had left my keys in the car. Turns out I hadn't just left them in the car, I had left them in the ignition. I do not know how I survive, either. I am the reason my mother takes Lipitor.
Previously on Loring Park: Jakey didn't exactly have a Valentine, but had good company nonetheless.
On a Tuesday night, I got to do five minutes of jokes at House of Comedy! I mainly talked about my cousin's wedding in San Diego. Jared and Charlie came to see me, and so did T.J., my bartender/therapist! He was with his friend Prince Eric. Halfway through the show, Kevin texted me asking if I could go to The Saloon to get the credit card that he forgot on Sunday (he was going to Vegas the next day). I asked T.J. about it and he said Kevin would have to go to the bar himself with his ID (which is par for the course, and I've forgotten to close my tab an embarrassing amount of times). I called Kevin in the bathroom and he was frustrated.
I was excited to see all the boys and I felt bad that I didn't know T.J. was coming, because I could have comped his ticket! I knew who Prince Eric was.
"I've met you at the bar," said Prince Eric. "I've met you before," I smiled. (I came over to Kevin's for the first time and Prince Eric showed up and asked if I was sleeping on the couch. This was two years ago)
Jared and I went to The Saloon later because it was karaoke! Tuesdays are kind of a sparse crowd. There was a boy who I follow on Instagram. He is from Dallas and moved here and posts pictures of himself working out with his shirt off. I thought he was cute. I was going to say hi to him, but the moment never presented itself, and I believe the moment has to be organic.
Before singing, I stopped at the office just to see if they had Kevin's credit card. They did, but they (understandably!) wouldn't give it to me. I wasn't mad because I got to talk to Eddie who is the cutest bouncer there.
Kevin called and was livid. "Kevin, they're not going to give me your credit card," I said. "I could have your name tattooed on my ass and they would keep it."
He was exasparated. "Wha -- I-- okay," he said. "I love you. I have to go. Bye."
It was nice of him to say that. I don't know. Prince Eric was super nice and cordial, and yet seeing him reminded me that the first time I had gone to this boy's apartment, he invited someone else over. And yes, that was almost two years ago and you would think I would be over something like that. And I am. But seeing Prince Eric made me realize that while Kevin and I will always be friends and I will always have positive feelings about him, I could never feel secure in a relationship with him. If he dated another medical student/stripper now, I really would be okay with it.
Except then I get drunk and tell people I am going to marry him. Whatever.
Jared and I sang Lauryn Hill's (Doo Wop) That Thing and wowed the crowd. We changed the words so they were gayer.
Jocks, you know you better watch out Some twinks, some twinks are only about That thing That thing That thing
***
A week later, WWE Elimination Chamber was in town and Dollface Killer had great seats! I wanted to hear about it, but first Jared and I went to The Saloon, and by the time I got to Dollface's apartment, it was 4 in the morning! He lives down the street.
I must have been really drunk because I instantly asked for water. We watched 2001 Survivor Series, but I only wanted to watch the Trish Stratus match. I didn't even physically react when he took his shirt off.
The next morning, he texted me and told me I was a "fucking alci" [sic]. I was so sad about this that I went day drinking at brunch with Jared and Joey at Brit's Pub and then I went drinking again with Erin at The Pourhouse! Mondays are supposed to be my nights to go to ACME Comedy Club and make my dreams come true!
It was an embarrassing situation. On some levels, I was upset at Dollface. You're gonna call me an alcoholic when every time you've seen me is at the bar and every time you text me is after 2 A.M.?? Yet I am still so damn socially awkward that I have yet to understand that when a dude invites you over at 4 AM, he doesn't want to watch wrestling as much as he wants to, um, wrestle. Also, I talk a big game about how hot Dollface Killer is, and maybe it was karma biting me back. He is so attractive and chiseled that I forgot to realize that he is also capable of having feelings and emotions.
***
Speaking of emotions, Paul Ryan never talked to me again after he got me naked. I shouldn't have been surprised by it. If I were a woman dating straight men, and a man chased me for two months and then we finally got naked and I didn't let him stick it in, I wouldn't expect to hear from that guy, either.
Nevertheless, I saw him at The Saloon that Saturday and it was sooooo awkward.
"Hello, Jakey," he said, in the way that you say hi to your aunt at a Christmas party.
"PAUL RYAN!" I cried. I tried to kiss him, but it was odd because a) he did not recipocrate and b) he is 6'4".
I would have been sad about this, but immediately in the distance near the dance floor was GAY OPRAH! I had seen him at The Saloon a few months prior but didn't know if he would know who I was. This time, he was quite outgoing.
"Hello, Jakey," he sang.
"Hi!" I cried. I really thought it would end there, because he knows everybody. But instead he even introduced me to his friends!
"This is Jakey," he went on. "And he wrote a fantastic play that was all about the Minneapolis gay scene." This meant a lot to me because, of all the five performances we had, Oprah had seen by far the worst one (our second performance, on the Sunday afternoon).
"Thank you, Oprah," I said. "That is very sweet."
"You know, I tried to be an actor when I was a kid," he said. "I even had head shots and everything! And I went to an acting teacher and she said that I 'needed to find a different creative outlet'."
"That is so sad!" I cried. "I think you're doing okay with the creative outlet thing."
It was a lovely moment, and I was truly grateful for it. My ego and self-esteem levels were at optimal levels.
So it is only natural that a week later, they both came crashing to a halt.
It is so ironic that before I left the house that night, I even Facebooked a favorite Margaret Cho quote of mine.
So from the age of 10, I became anorexic, and then bulimic, and then
stayed that way for about 20 years, until one day I just said, "Hey,
what if this is it? What if this is just what I look like and nothing I
do changes that? So how much time would I save if I stopped taking that
extra second every time I look in the mirror to call myself a big fat
fuck? How much time would I save if I just let myself walk by a
plate-glass window without sucking in my gut and throwing back my
shoulders? How much time would I save?" And it turns out I save about 97
minutes a week. I can take a pottery class.
I strolled in with Jared, and we soon reunited with Joey at Danny's bar. The boy from Dallas was there, and he made a comment about Joey's facial hair. I laughed because I thought he and Joey knew each other really well.
"No, I don't really know him," Joey said. "I mean, I know who he is."
"Oh, that's kinda weird," I said. I continued to enjoy the evening. It was crowded, I knew a lot of people, and I was feeling good about myself.
Jared caught me at T.J.'s bar. "You'll thank me for this," he said. "There's someone who I want you to talk to."
I followed him and ran into Chuck, who I haven't spoken to since the New Year's Eve debacle. It wasn't horribly awkward because we were both honest with each other, a surprisingly brazen concept.
"You told me to stop talking to you, so I did," I said.
"I still enjoy you, I just don't think I can be very close with you anymore," he said. We got along fine after that.
We found ourselves back at T.J.'s bar, where I felt an inexplicable need to order a shot. But I am a pussy about shots and always sip them. Dallas and his friends were next to me.
"Oh, I know who you are," I said. "I follow you on Instagram." I saw him on Grindr and he linked to his Instragram profile and I thought Why the hell not? Eye candy is eye candy.
"You follow me on Instagram?" he asked me in the same tone of voice you would use to a three-year-old who told you she went poopie in the potty. "That's so cute. Shoot your drink!"
"I have to sip it!" I cried. "I always have to think of something to drink to."
"You should drink to hair growth," he said.
This is the part in which I tell you that I delivered an amazing and witty diatribe that shut him and his friends down and led to applause from the rest of the bar.
But I said nothing. I suppose I can best compare it to when Donny Osmond went on The Rosie O'Donnell Show and called her fat.
Okay, the above clip is actually of him apologizing (and Marie came out! And they made him sing "Puppy Love" in a dog suit! Hilarity!)
I couldn't find an adequate quote about the incident (but I did find her speaking about it in something called Radiance magazine), so I'll have to summarize it from the first-season retrospective DVD that QVC did for The Rosie O'Donnell Show that I totally bought (and they only did the one season! Boo!).
If you see a clip of the incident, there's a transition on Rosie's face in which her disbelief turns to despair, and that's what I was going through. I was so blindsided by this random stranger insulting me that by the time I was able to process it, he was off to presumably insult other people. T.J. told me that I handled it well and that he was surprised I didn't start screaming. I only start screaming when Wesley is involved.
And it's not like I'm a 100% legitimate professional comedian, but I'd like to think I know a thing or two about comedy. A balding joke is like a fat joke. It's the lowest common denominator. Hell, just last year in this blog I wrote about making an appointment at Hair Club for Men. I have long been aware that my hair is receding and thinning and is the only thing that gives away my age. Wesley would always make fun of my thinning hair, and then I would slap him like I was Stephanie McMahon, and that was fine. When you tell someone they are balding, or fat, or ugly, or a "faggot", or anything of that nature -- you are not telling them something that they themselves don't already know. It's not clever. It's not witty. It's you, as a basic and rancid person, watching RuPaul's Drag Race and having the misunderstanding that "mean = funny". No, it is not. Reading is fundamental because reading is an art form.
I wish I would have said that.
Instead, drunk me at 4 A.M. tagged Dallas in a post and wrote about the entire incident. I did not call him names and did not make personal attacks. I even made a joke, saying I would be sure to wear my best toupee the next time I see him. Chuck drove Jared and I to my apartment and I kissed Chuck a lot, and I texted Wesley at 3:30 A.M. because for a moment in time we were briefly stuck in the parking garage and in my drunken wisdom I thought he would the best person to know what to do.
I had to work the next day, which was a Saturday at Mall of America. Death was not an option.
By mid-afternoon, people had been writing on my post. Quinn defended me, which was really awesome. Dallas responded with his own diatribe. A girlfriend of his wrote twice that I should take the post down. I did that afternoon, because hung over me realized that I am too damn old to be doing such things, and people were fighting about grammar, which was ridiculous and a distraction. Also, Dallas has very good use of syntax and grammar. I am not above giving props where they are due.
It was March 1st, and I decided that for the next 15 days, I WOULD BE SOBER. Seriously, in the past 24 hours, I had done the trifecta of what not to do when drinking:
*Drunk Facebook someone you don't know
*Drunk text the one person you should not be texting, especially at 3:30 in the morning *Drunk kiss someone you're gonna feel weird about the next day
I met up with my parents, Erin and Robbie at bingo and told them this shocking revelation. I stayed at my parents' house that night. Dallas's friend wrote me a very sweet Facebook message at 5:30 AM, again profusely apologizing for her friend. It was nice and she didn't have to do it, and I wanted to respond as such.
Still, doesn't it say something when you're the asshole and you apologize 0 times and your friend apologizes 3 times?
***
Boosting my spirits was my 11th Annual Oscar Party! It was held at my parents' house because not only do I not have television but I have a teeny tiny studio apartment (that I can't afford. Shut up.)
Not pictured are my parents and grandparents. My dad won, with 21 of 24! Rude! Joey got 2nd place for the second year in a row. I got 4th with 18, which wasn't bad. The great thing is that all of my friends were supportive of my not drinking, and I didn't even feel tempted to reach for vodka at any point. I will say that when Chris Hemsworth came out, I had to donate about $10 to the swear jar.
I'll end the spoilers and say that my 15 days went 7 days. It was nothing super dramatic. Joey, Jared and I were at the 19 and Joey and Jared clapped "Relapse! Relapse! Relapse!" But I had learned a lot. First of all, socially drinking (one or two) is different than binge-drinking. And I realized that I stay up until 3 or 4 A.M. anyway, booze or no booze (and by no means am I implying that such a thing is healthy). I was going to the bars so much because I was lonely and need people to engage and inspire me, and a bar is the only place you'll really find that if you're so much of a night owl. It was important for me to find other nocturnal outlets.
I would have drank at the 19 because Chuck was there with Brent and another friend. Brent is ridiculously handsome and I can't stand it.
"You and Brent have something in common," Chuck chuckled (pun!), referencing Dollface.
"Stopppp," I said. "Dollface is mad at me! I feel bad!"
At the end of the night, Brent was ready to vamoose. "Jakey," he impossibly smiled. "I can't be your broski. I'm only half a broski. You need a full one."
I'm still not sure what that means and that is absolutely okay.
***
I was off the Sunday before St. Patty's, so I was happy to celebrate my Irish heritage.
I am like, 10% Irish. Good enough! The night before I was able to reunite with Julie and her boyfriend, and he graciously bought me a drink. T.J. was on vacation in California, so I had to flirt with an entirely different bartender.
I met a gay broski but I don't think he was from town. I flirted and mingled. I yelled at Liam and Joey. It had been over a year since I had done a Sunday Funday, but it sounds like I did it right.
Coming up, I am doing my first ever half hour comedy special! It is Sunday, April 6th at 12 PM. I'm trying to make it a brunch theme! Details are at www.dielaughingmarathon.com
Also, I have another sexy sexy sinus infection because I get sick every time the weather changes. I would move to Arizona if they weren't so weird about gay people.
Next week: Decisions about summertime! Will Jakey stay in Loring Park? Will Jared ever stop snoring?
