He Who Laughs, or The Complete Idiot's Guide to Intimacy

MY THERAPIST: You seem to be forecasting your life in only worst-case scenarios.
ME: I was worried you’d say that.

Last Monday night I was invited to gay cocktails at the Rubin Museum to raise gay money for Obama’s reelection campaign. Obama, after doing The View and delivering the Barnard commencement address, was going to be in attendance.

John, my friend and January sidehunk, came with. Outside and giddy:

Inside the pinot gris was flowing and attractive people were carrying around trays of even more attractive food. A beet salad particularly thrilled us, and whenever a tray of it passed we’d eagerly grab another serving spoon. During one of the beet salad’s later laps the man and woman next to us hesitated above it, and I leaned in and said, “Oh, you’ve got to try it, we can’t stop eating it.” The woman replied, “Well, these boys sure are hungry,” diamonds and derision dripping from her every extremity.

Moments later she was but a distant memory, because:

Full of pinot gris and beet salad, I welled up.

I didn’t get to shake his hand — the gays bum-rushed the rope line — but John, being 6’5″ and able to reach over the pomade, did.

Outside we were interviewed by a Japanese television crew (if anyone finds that video, please send it to me — I’m really hoping they caption John and me as “Disney Prince and His Spittoon-Carrier”) along with a few other journalists with tape recorders, and, full of pinot gris and beet salad, I came out in the Post.

For the record, I was not a campaign volunteer in the New Hampshire primary, John was. I’m just thankful they didn’t malign me,  but I’m also fairly certain “writer from Manhattan” is Post code for “commie fag.”

(ISAAC is selling tickets to an OLDER MAN.)

ISAAC: And how did you hear how about the show?
OLDER MAN: I was just Googling gay plays, and this one came up.
ISAAC: OK.
OLDER MAN: Is it a good play?
ISAAC: It is! I loved it.
OLDER MAN: And it’s gay?
ISAAC: Well, yes, some of it is.
OLDER MAN: Great. Thank you.
ISAAC: Sure. And if I could just get your signature on the line by the X.
OLDER MAN: (signing) Aaaaaand notthatyouwouldnecessarilyknowthis, but.

(Beat.)

ISAAC: Yes?
OLDER MAN: I’m in town from Culver City with my “friend.” Where can we … go after the show?
ISAAC: You mean to, like, a –
OLDER MAN: (leans in) — a gay club.
ISAAC: Ah, yes –
OLDER MAN: No offense intended, if you aren’t –
ISAAC: No, none taken; I am gay –
OLDER MAN: OK, whew.
ISAAC: I’m just not good at the clubs, really.
OLDER MAN: Guide us, we are helpless.
ISAAC: Are you looking to stay in this neighborhood?

(The older man nods.)

ISAAC: OK, well, hmm. There are a ton of places in Hells Kitchen. I’ve been to Industry and Therapy on 52nd, or there’s the 9th Avenue Saloon and Posh, those are supposed to be OK –
OLDER MAN: Do they have dancing?
ISAAC: Um? Maybe? I’ve seen people define the space around them as space in which dancing occurs.
OLDER MAN: Will I feel uncomfortable? I’m in my fifties and I’m not out.
ISAAC: Oh, well, see, I’m out, but I stay in, so you might not want to take my nightlife recommendations.

(Isaac hands the older man his tickets.)

OLDER MAN: We’re staying at the Element, and right next door is Hunk-O-Mania.
ISAAC: Oh?
OLDER MAN: I read that they only allow women in, but the other night I watched a ton of men go in.
ISAAC: Well, maybe you should check out Hunk-O-Mania.
OLDER MAN: (small laugh) Perhaps. Sorry to trouble you.
ISAAC: Oh, it’s no trouble –
OLDER MAN: (overlapping) Thank you for your help. (waving with his ticket envelope) Thank you.
ISAAC: Enjoy your weekend with your friend.
OLDER MAN: We hope to.