The Fruitfly's Encyclopedia

Pool Parties

Pool Parties

    It was the first day of spring and Gaycrest was sweltering under unusually high temperatures. Logan, the 40-something year old ex-marine with the chiseled body had just bought a swanky condo on the outskirts of Gaycrest, and decided to throw a pool party. That weekend the gaggle piled into Seth’s convertible, armed with cases of vodka and beach towels.

    As the Fruitfly, there was no way I would miss the first pool party of the season. I made my way to Logan’s, well accessorized with the Frat Boy on one arm and proudly wearing my gold lame 70’s porn star bikini top and a tiny teal python print bottom with gold chain ties. When we go to the complex, I gave the security guard my most charming smile, while he looked us over, trying to determine if we truly belonged in this sanctuary of the privileged and moneyed.  Finally, having passed muster, he let us in and we walked towards the pool, following the loud voice of Beto, loudly proclaiming how his negative 5% body fat figure desperately needed a diet.

    By the pool, Beto was lounging in a fire truck red pair of trunks that covered maybe five inches in front, and three in back. Next to him, Enrique (always body conscious) was wearing long baggy olive green shorts and eating what looked like two slices of pizza sandwiched together  As usual, Enrique was flying solo, since his boyfriend hated social outings of any sort. Gary and Seth were mixing cocktails by  a styrofoam cooler, looking disgustingly sweet in matching blue trunks, Gary’s black head leaning in towards Seth’s blonde. A few feet away, Russell, the South-African with sandy brown hair was looking down with a confused look in his green eyes. I saw why he was so confused when I followed his gaze and saw Logan at his feet doing push-ups and trying to talk at the same time 
    “…eighty-five…eighty-six… (panting)…so yeah, eighty-seven….I decided to wallpaper the dining room ceiling…(panting)…after I saw a re-run of Shabby Chic...eighty-eight…”

    I walked over towards Enrique.

     “Who’s that?” I asked nodding towards a strange guy standing by himself. 

    “Oh that’s Ray.” Enrique responded.

    “He’s the new random that Beto picked up at the sidewalk sale last night outside of The Man-Hole. Apparently Russell has his eye on him too, you know how they love the same boys. Anyway, a few more drinks and they will be dueling over him, in fact, they already placed bets on who he’ll go home with tonight, although Beto thinks he already sort of won since he had him last night.” 

    “Hmm, interesting” I responded.

Suddenly a loud, high-pitched voice announced…

    “HEEEELLLOOOO PEOPLE!!!!”  and Sean stumbled drunkenly from behind the pool house and into the pool deck, where he planted a big kiss on Logan, who was done with his push-ups.     “What the…” I started to say.

     “Oh yeah” Enrique quickly interjected between bites of pizza. “Sean’s been dating Logan for a few weeks now. Logan is head over heels but somehow I don’t see a wedding anytime soon.”

    “Has Logan even got to talk to Sean when he’s sober?”

    “Has anybody?”

    “Good point. You were there when Sean punched Paolo last time they went out to Frisky’s, weren't you? And… oh hold on… I’ll be back.”

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Frat Boy trying to show Gary and Seth how to do a keg stand. 

    “Abort! Abort!” I cried out as I trotted over as fast as my gold kitten heel sandals would allow.

    “Did you see that baby?” Frat Boy beamed at me.

    “Yes darling, but lets try not to break our heads open today. How about you make me a drink instead?”

     “Ok!” Frat Boy smiled charmingly and ran his hands through his perfectly sculptured hair before running off.

    While my drink was being made, I decided to approached the new guy,“Hi!” I said sticking my hand out. He smiled.

     “Hi! I’m Ray.”
Just as we started to have a conversation, I felt Sean’s wet torso smack into my back.

    “Hello gorgeous, you look fabulous!”

    “Hi Sean, have you met Ray?”
Sean draped one arm over my shoulders unsteadily and used the other hand to slowly pushed his aviators on top of his head.

    “Heeeelllllooooo there!” He said looking not at Ray’s face, but rather staring fixedly at his tanned chest.

    “Oh god Sean” I said elbowing him in the ribs. “Ray, this is Sean. He’s Logan’s boyfriend.”

 Ray looked at Sean and slowly stretched his lips into a cat-like smile. And almost as if I had a crystal ball, at that second I saw what would happen. I stood there awkwardly for a few seconds, until I was saved by alcohol when Frat Boy waved me over, holding a fresh vodka soda for me.

    New drink in hand, I made my way over to where Beto and Russell were sitting with their legs in the pool.
    “Ten bucks. He’s going home with me.”
    “Oh hell no… hey baby!” Beto smiled as he saw me. “We were just talking about the Latino cutie over there, who is going home with ME.”
    “ Um no.” Russell quickly said. “ME, he’s going home with ME!”
    “ I think you may both loose” I said, as I gestured over to where Ray and Sean had been standing. To my surprise, they weren’t there anymore. I mean, I knew they would move quickly, but really this was lightning speed. I immediately saw them in the pool. Sean was bobbing up and down flailing his arms looking like he was trying not to drown, which I quickly assumed was due to copious amounts of alcohol he had consumed and the fact that Ray was sitting in his shoulders grabbing onto Sean’s hair and giggling uncontrollably, his skinny thighs wrapped firmly around Sean’s nose and mouth.
I was about to say something, but Russell and Beto had moved on and were now talking about something else. Instead I just asked,
    “Where’s Logan?”
    “Oh he took some stuff back up to his place. We should probably go help him.”

Hoping that Sean and Ray’s antics would be short lived, I got up to help put stuff away. We ferried coolers, speakers and towels to the apartment, and after several trips everything had been cleared.

     “We’re taking off!” Gary announced. “Seth has to work at Casa de Fiesta tonight so we can continue the party there, who needs a ride?” 
    “Not me” said Enrique, “I need to go home before I get in trouble for staying out too late.”

    “We need to go too” said Frat Boy squeezing my waist with his arm.
    “Why don’t you guys come with us?” Gary asked Russell and Beto.
    “Where’s Logan?” I asked.
    “Oh he fell asleep on his couch. Too much sun and not enough of his homemade coconut sunscreen… he was pretty red and sore.”
    “Um guys…” I said “Where is Sean and Ray?”

    We looked around the silent pool area, which was empty except for us. Russell said,
    “Well they couldn’t have left. Sean was spending the night here with Logan and Ray was riding with me” 
    “With US. WE were giving him a ride.” Beto quickly clarified. 
    “I just tried calling him and he’s not picking up.”
    “Thanks Enrique” I said. “What should we do?”
    “Maybe he’s up at the apartment?” Frat Boy asked.
    “Did someone call Logan?”
    “Yeah” Gary nodded. “But he didn’t pick up, he’s sleeping. I guess we could go look up at the apartment in case Ray is there, I would feel horrible if we just left him and then he didn’t have a way to get home.”
    With that we all trooped back up to the apartment laughing and joking about how we hoped to find him before Russell and Beto did, at least to save him the injury of being ripped in half by them. When we got up there, Logan’s door was half open and there was silence. I went in first, opening the door and peeking around to see Logan sprawled out on the couch, snoring contentedly and looking like a bright red sun burnt lobster. The rest of the gaggle followed me in and I held my hand up for silence. Gary quickly went to the bathroom and knocked softly

    “Ray?” he whispered.

There was silence. I shrugged and pointed at Logan’s bedroom door, which was closed. Gary slowly started to push it open and almost fell flat on his face when it was swung open from the inside. There, standing naked  except for a balled up pair of trunks to cover his bits was Ray who looked thoroughly surprised to see us there.

    “What are you doing?!?!?” Seth asked in a dramatic whisper as we all tried to avoid the sight of a naked Sean passed out naked on Logan’s bed.

       “I thought you guys had left…” Ray stammered looking at each of us and then at the ground.    
    “Oh NO you didn’t!” Beto said loudly, which caused Logan to give a half snore and jump off the couch.
    “Oh my god you guys scared me! I thought you had left!” he said disorientedly.
    “Yeah apparently so had someone else” I snorted and glared at Ray.
    “What’s going on?” asked Logan, sensing something was off. 

Gary said “I think we should leave” while looking at Ray who was still inside the bedroom hurriedly putting on his trunks. There was silence.
    “Where’s Sean?” Logan asked, when right at that moment Ray ran out of the bedroom and out the front door. We heard the door to the stairs slam as he made his getaway, not even waiting for the elevator. I looked at Frat Boy who motioned with his head that we should leave. As I walked to the door, Russell looked at Logan and said,

    “Sean’s in the bedroom. We… um…”

A look of understanding passed over Logan’s face. He looked down at the floor and said softly,     “Just leave, please. I’ll call you guys later.”

    In silence we went back down the hall and into the elevator.
Beto broke the silence.
    “ I can’t believe it.  What are we going to do?”

Gary responded.
     “Well there isn’t much we can do right now. It doesn’t surprise me though. Sean I mean.”

    “Anyway we don’t really know what happened up there do we?” Enrique interjected logically.  

~

No, we didn’t know what happened. But unfortunately we could imagine all too well. Although I was happy Ray had left and we had avoided further confrontation, I was certain we hadn’t heard the last from him yet…

Resolutions

 

Resolutions

It was that time of the year again, when everyone was fresh with the promise of a new beginning, vowing that THIS year would be the year for loosing those ten pounds, or finding true love, maybe discovering a passion, a hobby. For not letting bills pile up and for taking the trash out on schedule. In Gaycrest, promises and ambitions flew around faster than champagne glasses on New Year’s Eve.

Although most people were weathering the NYE hangover by cutting back on going out during the month of January, Beto had decided to go to Frisky’s that night in celebration of the fact that he had made it through the first month of the new year alive and well. He carefully selected gray wool slacks, a black French cuff shirt with chrome cuff links and a skinny wine colored tie. Dressed and almost ready he made a vodka cocktail (three cubes of ice), checked his curly black hair, and settled to wait.

Five minutes later, his doorbell rang. It was Paolo and Sean. 
 “Welcome!” Beto said chipperly.
 “I was going to offer you guys some pre-drinks, but by the looks of it you’ve already had quite a few…SEAN!”

“Me? I’m just getting started!” Sean exclaimed as he bounced past Beto and into the kitchen.

“It’s gonna be one of those nights huh?” Beto asked Paolo over the din of slamming cupboards.  Paolo just sighed in response.
“Why do you put up with…this?” Beto asked him raising an eyebrow towards the kitchen. 

“Well… he is our friend and I’m trying to help him keep his New Year’s resolution, to control his going out behavior, believe it or not. Plus, going out will help me keep my resolution – to be more social and finally meet someone!” 

Half an hour later, Paolo, Sean and Beto walked up to Frisky’s. Beto picked up the pace, eagerly scanning the crowd outside for familiar faces. Paolo followed slightly behind him, feeling uncomfortable in his rarely worn “going out clothes” which consisted of a grey button down shirt and jeans which unfortunately were starting to show just how much Thanksgiving turkey and pie he had indulged in. Sean bounced along beside him, going on about whatever it was that he had been talking about for the last hour. After twenty minutes of battling through the crowd gathered at the entrance, they were finally inside. Paying the cover charge at the small window manned by a rather large drag queen with a huge black wig, they proceeded through the dark hallway and into the club.  Beto promptly went off with some Gaycrest socialites he had run into, Sean went to the bathroom, and Paolo went to the bar.

They had been there for about an hour or two. Paolo had already walked the perimeter of the club three times, stopping every once in a while to stand against a wall, hands in pockets, surveying the crowd. Finally, in need of a drink he went back at the bar.  Ten minutes later, he still didn’t have a drink, but, he had found true love! Despite the pounding music and strobe lights, Paolo felt that he was in a sound vacuum. The only thing he could hear was a slight buzzing noise that seemed to be coming from somewhere inside his brain. He was drowning in Pedro’s eyes.  Wait, was his name Paco?  Or was it Phil?  No matter. He had found THE ONE.  He had known it the second his elbow had brushed against the guy standing next to him at the bar. After some small talk, here they were, staring intensely into each others eyes. About to take the leap. Promises, a future…

Paolo was leaning in towards Phil’s (or Paco’s) advancing lips when suddenly...

"PAOLO!!!!!"

...the sound of his name tore him brusquely away.  Beto was running towards him, waving his arms wildly. 
 “Help!”

“What Beto? Did you loose your tiara? I’m busy” Paolo said tightly.

“It’s Sean, you have to help”

“What’s wrong?”
“Just come with me!” 

“I’ll be back” Paolo said to Phil (or Paco).  

Beto led him by the through the  “hip-hop room,” into the “electronic music room”, past the elevated boxes with go-go dancers, and into the masses of sweaty, grinding, shirtless boys on the dance floor.  There at the center was all of Sean’s 5 foot 4 inches, humping and grinding a really tall guy with long-ish brown hair, and looking like a koala trying to climb a palm tree in the process.

“Is that…?” Paolo asked

“YES!!!! Now go do something about it!” Beto responded

“Why me?”

“Cause they won’t pay attention to me. And Enrique is your friend.”

Sighing, Paolo walked up to them, yelling their names. After being ignored for a few seconds he finally lost it.  He grabbed Sean’s shoulder and spun him around.

 “Sean!!!  You’re 40 years old!  Your boyfriend just dumped you, and here you are trying to hook up with Enrique, who let me tell you, is not only half your age, but also has a boyfriend!  A BOYFRIEND WHO IS YOUR FRIEND!!!!  Stop playing Samantha Jones, Sean!  Desperation is a color no one, NO ONE wears well!  And you Enrique, should back off because YOU are not the one that has to take this one home tonight and baby sit him!”

Enraged, Paolo grabbed Sean by the arm and started cutting through the crowd that had gathered around them.

“I’m not going anywhere and you can’t make me! I want to stay with Enrique!” Sean yelled over the music.

“No!  You’re coming home with me before you do anything stupid. I promised to help you with your New Year’s resolution!”  Paolo yelled back as he tightened his grip on Sean.  Just at that moment, he looked around to look for Beto when he felt a sharp crack against his jaw and a flash of pain. Sean had punched him. Shocked, Paolo reached up to feel a slowly swelling bump on his jaw line. “What the fuck is wrong with you!” he cried. Sean looked away apologetically. “Sorry, I…” “You idiot!” Paolo grabbed Sean by the shoulders and pushed him into the crowd that had rapidly gathered around them. Sean fell back and quickly regained his footing, coming onto Paolo swinging his arms, no longer apologetic at all. Just before his fists made contact with Paolo’s face again, a big bear-ish bouncer had parted the crowd and grabbed Sean, holding him a good foot above the floor, while Sean yelled, kicked and flailed. He was rapidly dragged away while Paolo followed still rubbing his throbbing face.

~~~ 

“Great. This is why no one wants to go out with you anymore. Really Sean? You punched me. You drink way to much, get fucked up and mess with your friends. Your so-called friends because after this I can’t really help you anymore. I’m done.”

Paolo started walking purposely down the alley where the bouncer had thrown out Sean. Sean followed him. “Dude, come on. I’m sorry, I just drank to much and… Come on, really? You can't leave me here! I said I'm sorry! Jesus!”
Paolo sighed. “Ok, you’re right. You’re out of your fucking mind drunk and as much as I’m done with you I can’t leave you here. You can sleep on my couch but first thing tomorrow morning you’re out.”

~~~

They got to Paolo’s apartment and after throwing some blankets on the couch, Paolo crawled into bed, exhausted. He was slowly drifting into sleep when suddenly sharp noises coming from the kitchen woke him. He quickly got out of bed and went to find Sean climbing on his counter tops slamming cupboards open and close.
“Hey! Sorry if I woke you, I couldn’t sleep and thought I would make myself a cocktail!  Do you have any vodka?”

“Sean….” Paolo tried to keep his voice steady.

“What? Do you want a drink too?”

“Sean, you’ve had more than enough. Let me remind you that you almost broke my jaw. GO. TO. SLEEP.” 

Back in his room Paolo started to drift off again when a squeaking, thumping noise started escalating from the living room. After a few minutes of confusion, Paolo realized that either Sean was masturbating, or beating an omelet for breakfast.

Sighing, Paolo put the pillow over his head and forced himself to go to sleep.

Three hours later his bedroom door flew open, “Morning sunshine! Wanna  go get coffee?”

“Sean. It’s five in the morning. Do you know how precious my sleep is and how much of it you cost me? Not to mention that my face feels like someone pulverized it, but of course you wouldn’t remember any of that would you?”

“Oh. About that, yeah I don’t remember much. But for what it’s worth, thank you for taking care of me last night. I feel soooo much better!”

“Well at least one of us does. Now, please leave so I can try to salvage a few more hours of sleep, and never, EVER go out drinking with me again. Good bye.”

Paolo pushed Sean out the front door, slamming it shut behind him. He returned to bed, making sure the blinds were all the way closed first. As he drifted off to sleep, he realized that maybe by not worrying about Sean so much, and everyone else, he could focus on his own resolutions. Which made him think about Paco (or Phil, or whatever his name was). Definitely, he had to focus on himself if he wanted to find true love, which led him to make another resolution:

 No more babysitting, no more putting others first, no more helping others keep their resolutions.

Sean got home twenty minutes later. He felt surprisingly good, although he really didn’t understand why Paolo was so pissed off. “Fucking stick up his ass” he thought as he got into bed. He knew it had something to do with his resolution, but couldn’t quite place it. In fact, he couldn’t remember his resolution at all.  He started to laugh, of course only Paolo would place any importance on resolutions and other meaningless shit. Paolo would be over it by tomorrow, he was certain.

On the other side of Gaycrest, Beto stumbled into his apartment. After having lost Paolo and Sean, he had run into some guys he had met in Vegas last year, and ended up making  a night out of it, much of which was still blurry. He reached up to loosen his tie – and realized he wasn’t wearing it anymore. “Fuck” he thought. He zig-zagged across the living room to his bedroom. “Interesting..” his hand had found some receipts in his pocket. Had he really spent $275 that night? On what?  “Fuck fuck fuck” he muttered under his breath. This whole resolution of taking better care of himself and his money was not going all that well. “Thankfully, tomorrow is another day” he thought. He cleared some clothes from his bed, ready for sleep.  As he folded some underwear into a drawer, his hand made contact with his best kept secret. He shouldn’t he had promised himself to stop, or at least cut back. But one line (or two) never hurt anyone. And tomorrow was another day after all. His resolution could wait.

 

Holidays

 
 

Ahh… the holidays!  The bright shiny lights, the presents, the free flowing champagne… It’s no small wonder that the inhabitants of Gaycrest don’t implode during this season. 

Unfortunately, the holidays are not happy time for everyone.  Poor Chad, those holiday lights may be shining brightly everywhere, but you don’t really feel all bright and shiny inside, do you?

December found Chad doing not so well. His recent antics – breaking up with Gary and then hooking up with someone else’s date at a party meant he wasn’t exactly in the Gaggles good graces.  To make matters worse, his job at the Virgin Atlantic counter had just informed him his hours would be cut in half.  Now Chad was not exactly a saver, in fact no one really knew where his money went; although his love for anything shiny and remotely trendy certainly caused quite a few speculations. So there he was, somewhat friendless, and not really knowing how he was going to make next months rent on his sparsely furnished studio.  Well, he DID know of something, but it was definitely nothing a self-respecting man would do. But desperate times…

“Elf Eleven!  Elf Eleven!”  Santa’s nasally voice woke him up.
“Yeah, um… I’m here.” He muttered drowsily while crawling out form under the fake pine tree.
“You were supposed to be at your station twenty minutes ago!  This is unacceptable!  What were you doing under that tree? I should fire your skinny fairy ass. Now go over there and make someone happy!”
“More than you’ve done in your entire life” he muttered
“What???”
“Nothing. Going, going!”

The hat made his heat sweat and the green tights made his balls itch. Chad was working part time at Style Gorge, the local mall, as an elf. And not one of his friends knew. Well, not until the incident involving the reindeer, a dildo, and whipped cream broke the front pages of the local gay rag.  But I’ll get to that later.

Santa’s village consisted of fourteen elves. Ten of those elves had to frolic in the snow, pretend to be looking after the reindeer, or working on toys. The other two elves worked inside the “workshop” and were, to the public, Santa’s “special” elves. In reality they were there to make sure Santa didn’t get peed on or pucked on by some child. Their job was to place the child on Santa’s lap and then whisk him or her away rapidly as soon as the photo had been taken.  The final two elves worked as either the photographer’s assistant or in crowd control out on the line.

Chad had been placed in charge of “Reindeer Care”.
His favorite part of the job was standing behind Rudolph and pretend to give him very, very special attention.  In turn, he got to see the crowds look in puzzlement, then in surprise, then in disgust, and then, right before they could say anything, it was their turn to go into Santa’s hut.

Santa himself was really Jules from Missouri, an in-denial homophobe who took a weird and sadistic pleasure in ordering the elves about.  Whenever they were in Santa’s workshop, the elves and all employees had to call him Santa.  But whenever they were in the back room, Santa made the elves call him “Jule-tide”.  Like yuletide. The elves just called him “Jule-suck-me-fuck-me-and-like-it”  but not to his face. Not because he might get ideas, but because the very thought of getting fucked by a fat bastard made their toes curl (and not in a good way) inside their little elf shoes.
Did I mention that seven out of the fourteen elves were gay, and one was a lesbian?

It really was the lesbian’s fault. I think her name was Brenda. But more of that later.

There were two days left until Christmas and the elves were gearing up for a busy day. In just twenty minutes the doors would open and a flood of angry parents and children would burst through, trying to be the first ones to get to Santa. The elves made sure the photo equipment was working, the lighting was on and the music was set.

Jules, or Santa, called Chad over. “I need you to test my lap”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard. Sit down and shut up. I want to pretend you’re a little boy.”
Chad looked at Jules like he had sprouted three heads.
“HAHAHA YOU WANT THAT DON’T YOU!” Santa screamed, then catching his breath, “Oh please don’t pretend you don’t see them. Everyday they come, sometimes its just one couple, sometimes its two or three. Just like you. Kicking their little Prada loafers and wiggling their little buts about” At this point Jules held his hands in front of him and mimicked prancing. His voice got louder. “Oh lets go sit on Santa’s lap and talk about the first thing is to come up!  Hee hee hee!  Aren’t we funny and GAY!  And I have to put up with you and them! I’m SICK OF IT!  SICK! “
“Yes you are” Chad muttered.
“Homos. All of you. Freaks.” Santa muttered and turned away.

Chad couldn’t believe what he had just heard. He told Elves Nine, Two and Four. Elf Number Two told Elf Number Seven. He told Brenda. Brenda called her girlfriend Lucy.
By opening time Brenda had incited the ire of all fourteen elves, and a plan had been formed. Jule-tide was going down.
For the next few hours the elves were busy with very un-elfish duties.
Lucy, Brenda’s girlfriend, came to Style Gorge with supplies to execute the plan.
By afternoon, the mall was so busy that nobody noticed when Rudolph was stolen from Santa’s Village and hidden behind a Christmas tree. Quickly, Brenda and two elves took some super-glue from Lucy’s bag of supplies. With a quick “Sorry Ru” Brenda proceeded to fill up Rudolph’s opening, right underneath his tail.

When Santa went to the bathroom, Chad quietly creeped in after him, and motioned to the other elves to follow at a distance.

“Hey Jules!”
“Jule-tide please. “
“Yeah, Jule-tide, so um, what you said to me, about homos?”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You did. I heard you.”
“Ok fine. What? What?”
“Well, you should apologize. I’m sure you didn’t mean it?”
“Oh hell no! I don’t even want to share a bathroom with you sick fuck. Keep your fairy elfish dick to yourself and leave me alone!”

“Ok. Jule-be-sorry!” Chad said under his breath.
He turned to leave the bathroom just as Santa started dropping his pants.
Santa thought he was alone.
“Um, Jule-tide?” Chad said opening the door again.
“AGH! FUCK!”
Santa jumped and hit his arm against the side of the urinal.
“I thought you left!  What do you want!”
“I think Brenda wants to talk to you. Urgent. When you’re done of course.”
Santa muttered something as he shook his dick.

“Ok he’s coming!” Chad whispered loudly to the others as he ran out of the bathroom. Moments later Santa came out of the bathroom, and headed over to Elf Two.
“I heard Brenda wanted to talk to me?”
“Yeah she’s inside Santa’s workshop. I think its important. I’ll keep the public out until you’re done.”

Santa went into the workshop. “Brenda? You in here”
“Yeah I’m here! Can you help me?  Rudolph’s mechanism is stuck and I need to fix him.”
“Why don’t you ask the elves?”
“Those incompetent fools?  Please Jule-tide.  Plus you have big hands, you can probably grab the lever better.” 
“Ok what do I do?”
Just stick your hand in the hole under Rudolph’s tail and feel around for a lever.
“Ok. Wait I don’t feel anything.”
“Go deeper.”
By this point Santa was kneeling on the floor with his arm up to his elbow in Rudolph.
“Why is it wet in here? I think my hand is stuck!”
“That’s the point” Brenda muttered.
“What was that?” Asked Santa.
Nothing. You probably need the screwdriver, here.
Santa held out his other hand.
“Lucy! We’re ready!” Brenda yelled.
“Who’s Lucy? What’s going on here?!?!?”
“Lucy is my girlfriend, she’s here to help us teach you a small lesson.”
At that point Lucy came out from behind Santa’s Chair, and carefully placed the dildo, covered in Super Glue, in his outstretched hand.
Jules looked in shock and tried to stand up but all of Lucy’s 250 pounds came crashing down on his back as she straddled him. Ok he’s down! She yelled.
Brenda quickly pulled down Santa’s pants and covered his ass in whipped cream.
Santa of course was yelling at the top of his lungs. The elves quickly pulled the curtain open just as Lucy and Brenda ran away giggling.

There was silence, as two hundred parents, and their children were exposed to the sight of Santa with is arm in Rudolph’s ass, holding a dildo in the other hand and his pants down, whipped cream dripping down his thigh.

One little kid screamed “I wanna picture!!”  and the silence broke. After five minutes of frenzied commotion and hundred of flashes going off, Chad closed the curtains, “MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!”

The picture of Chad closing the curtians made it to the front pages of most newspapers. Brenda was fired but charges were mysteriously dropped after Lucy visited Jules’ house (to make sure he was ok of course).  Jules dropped the Santa gig and was never seen again, although rumors circulated of a rather large, mean tooth-fairy for hire.

And that’s the story of how Chad ruined Christmas for lots of kids, but got even with Jules. I heard it first-hand from Chad. He even said that Style Gorge gave him, and all the other elves quite a nice lump of money for what they called “trauma damage” but in reality it was for him to keep the incident as quiet as possible and not distribute any of the pictures of Santa on his knees. 
Chad was able to pay his rent, and was the toast of many holiday parties.

It was a jolly season after all!

Thanksgiving

As the weather slowly turned colder, all across Gaycrest Burberry scarves slowly made their way out of storage, pea coats were sent to the dry cleaners, returned crisply pressed in their plastic bags, and I deliberated between investing in chocolate brown leather riding boots or slouchy black over the knee stiletto fuck-me boots.

On the other side of Gaycrest, Beto was also having a hard time making a decision. Having just moved into a new apartment complete with an outdoor fire pit should have made the annual Thanksgiving celebration planning a snap, but the gaggle was in chaos. Gary and Chad were officially on the rocks after a disastrous anniversary celebration, and deciding whether to invite one of the offending parties over the other meant alienating half of the group. However, to invite them both was a sure guarantee of Gay Side Story. And to invite neither of them meant not having a party. Never had Beto let a bit of animosity stand in the way of a celebration, nor was he about to start.

“Hello dah-ling! Did you get Beto’s invite? Are you going?”
“Yes, but I still haven’t bought my new boots and since my whole outfit hinged on the perfect shoe, I have nothing to wear!” I wailed miserably into the phone.
“Quelle domage.” Leigh responded dryly. “However, I think we may have more to worry about than your choice in footwear.”
“More important? What could possibly be more important? I mean, this is still a party being thrown by a gay man is it not?”
“It appears our friend Beto has invited both Gary and Chad, and damn the consequences.”
“Oh. Well what else is he supposed to do? To not invite both would be very clearly choosing sides, and our Beto would never rock the boat like that.”
“True… I suppose all that is left is to make an appearance in all of our fabulous glory and face what may be.”
“That’s what I said.” 

“I’m here! Am I late?” I found Beto in his kitchen with a dry martini, wearing a burgundy herringbone button-down and dark grey flannel slacks.
“Of course, but gorgeous as usual! Everyone is already out back.  Apparently the prospect of bloodshed attracts a crowd.”
“Those Romans were onto something. Are both Gary and Chad here?” 
“Yes and surprisingly civil.  But even better… Logan brought his new boy toy, Alexander.”
“Oh?”

“Rumor has it that Alexander and Chad were an item even while the Gary and Chad romance was being played out.” “So there may be fireworks after all…”

“And even more upsetting? Alexander has the worst fashion sense ever. He’s wearing some kind of silver shirt, must be a polyester blend. Ugh.”

I rolled my eyes at Beto and went out to the patio to find the gaggle nicely mingling, martinis and wine glasses in hand. I immediately spotted Logan and waved him over.

“So where is he? Where is your new lovah?”
“Wow, news travels fast. He’s over there. See him? Cute bubble but?”

I was about to ask Logan if the rumors about Alexander and Chad were true but Leigh, standing behind Logan motioned me to shut up. So Logan had no idea. After some small talk I moved off.

Several hours later, the party was in full swing.

Gary was standing by the fire pit pretending to talk to Stu but really looking miserably in Chad’s direction. Chad was across the patio laughing and gesturing wildly to the group of people that he had obviously brought with him but that none of us had ever met. Logan was by the hor’s douver table looking adoringly at Alexander who was looked bored or maybe just confused. Beto was on top of the table by the fire pit doing his best go-go dancer impression. Paolo had called it a night and gone either home or to hunt Filipino bottoms at a bar. Stu had abandoned Gary and was chatting up a rather round man with a shaved head and a goatee, holding his drink a bit higher than usual and swaying, whether in tune to the music or the sloshing of the wine inside him, I couldn’t tell.

By midnight, after having consumed several slices of pumpkin cheesecake and more than a few vodka sodas, I really needed to use the bathroom. 
“Sorry Jimmy, I don’t mean to interrupt but I need to use the facilities.”
“Jerray.  It’s Jerray”
“Oh right. Sorry Jerry. I’ll be back.”
“No not Jerry, JERR-AY. And I wasn’t done with my story, I was just getting to the good part.”
“Err, sorry Jerr-AY.  I’ll be back.”
I ran indoors.
 
It was surprisingly quiet - the only sound the whirr of the heater and the muted sounds of the party outside.
“Which way is the bathroom…” I wondered quietly as I went down the hallway. 

The plush beige carpet silenced even my footsteps.  I opened the first door. I caught my breath as I saw what could only be described as a bit unsettling; a bed covered in porcelain dolls, and a leather sling strung up from the ceiling next to the bed with a blow up doll in it wearing a strap on.  I jumped a little bit and quickly closed the door. I really hoped that was Beto’s new roommate’s room and not Beto’s.

I continued down the hallway to the next door.  This time I opened it slowly to reveal an office of sorts with a desk, computer, TV, and three guys huddled around a mirror on the floor. They didn’t even notice me as I softly closed the door.

Further on was the last door and next to it the hallway made a sharp turn and met the stairs. Sure that the last door had to be the bathroom, I walked up to it but just as I was about to open it, a flash of movement caught my eye.  Turning to the stairs I made out the shadowy outline of someone’s back, and as my eyes focused I saw what could have been Chad.  “Chad!” I called out softly, realizing I hadn’t talked to him all night. The figure turned quickly to face me and I saw that there was another person between him and the wall, wearing a silvery shirt.  The three of us were frozen for a few seconds and then Chad turned and grabbing Alexander’s hand, silently went quickly upstairs.

Forgetting the urge to pee, I quickly went back outside and  spent the rest of the party avoiding Jerray and his ridiculously boring stories, avoiding Gary, because really, what do you tell the person that is convinced his break up is temporary and fixable, and avoiding Logan because all he could talk about was how great it was going with Alexander and how he was going to ask him to be his boyfriend that week.

An hour later everyone had left except Leigh, Logan and I.
“Have you seen Alexander?” Logan asked.  “I haven’t seen him in a while and I’m his ride home.”
“Err…maybe he’s in the bathroom?”  I offered helpfully. 
“Maybe he is…” Logan responded uncertainly. 
“Why don’t you go look in the kitchen and I’ll go look in the bed… err, bathrooms” I said a bit desperately.
Logan gave me a curious look before saying “Ok” and heading to the kitchen.

I tore off to the patio, running into Leigh. “Leigh, Leigh, where’s Beto?”
“Probably passed out in bed, why?”
“Logan’s looking for Alexander!”
“So?”
“So I think I saw him… and Chad. Together. Going up to the bedroom. And everyone already left but Logan refuses to leave before finding out if Alexander got home safely. And It’s only a matter of time before he finds them together.”

“Oh no” Leigh groaned. “Really? Maybe we should let them find out. Serve them right.”
“Yeah but what about Logan? He would be heartbroken if he found out.”
“I supposed Gary would be too. Ok lets go to the bedrooms.”

We went inside but it was too late. Logan was coming down the stairs, his face expressionless. He knew. Leigh and I looked at him.

“I don’t think I should drive just yet. I’m just going to sit on the couch for a bit.”  Logan mumbled.
“And Alexander?” I asked despite the look that Leigh shot me.
“I uh, he um, I think he’s lying down, I’ll wake him up in a few.”
Logan sat on the couch looking down at his hands clasped between his knees.
Leigh and I looked at each other at a loss.

Several minutes went by. “How dare he???” Logan finally burst out. “With Gary’s ex-boyfriend!!!!” “I LOVED him. LOVED HIM!!!!”  He looked like he was ready to burst into tears. Just as I was about to walk over to him he stood up. “Happy Thanksgiving” he mumbled. “Be grateful you don’t have a soul-sucking, gold-digging whore. They deserve each other.”

Leigh and I left silently, not really knowing what to say.

The next day I saw that Gary had updated his online profile to say he was grateful for the hope of good things to come. I knew he was talking about Chad, and that he had no idea about Alexander... yet.

Beto’s update said he was grateful for friendships, except when friends took advantage of his 500 thread-count sheets.

Leigh’s said he was thankful for kittens.

Alexander’s said he was thankful for options.

I knew what I was not thankful for; knowing something that I wish I didn’t. I was however grateful for my two new pairs of boots, and made sure to note that online. After updating my profile I sat down at the kitchen table. I had a few phone calls to make.

Happy Thanksgiving!

The Fruitfly

Symptoms

It was a rainy Thursday morning and I was driving around Gaycrest in my Twink-Mobile running errands. It seemed that I kept hitting every single red light. At one light, which seemed to last longer than most, I happened to look up, and saw a big blue billboard that said,

 “SHOW HIM YOU CARE THIS THANKSGIVING!  TELL HIM YOU HAVE AN STD, ITS AS EASY AS SENDING AN E-CARD”

My first reaction was to laugh, but then I started to wonder, how many people actually use this service? It seemed to me that telling someone they  have been potentially putting their health in danger, through an
e-card no less, was not particularly romantic.  How many people would appreciate waking up to that in their in-box?  Still, I supposed it is easier than doing it in person, and even better than not saying anything at all.

After a particularly engaging weekend, Leigh had gone for a check-up at what we affectionately referred to as the ‘Dirty Whore Clinic’. Promptly at 9am he showed up to his appointment and was dismayed to see that was not a single vinyl chair that did not already have someone’s ass comfortably embedded into it.

A rather large woman with half blonde/half black hair in braids and bright purple spangly nails sat behind the counter.

            “CAN I HELP YOU?”

Rosa yelled as he made his way to the glass window, with the walk of not only someone who is already uncomfortable with his gigantic height, but added to that there were forty pairs of expectant eyes glued on him.

             “I have and appointment” 

            “APPOINTMENT FOR WHAT?”

             “STD testing” Leigh muttered uncomfortably.

            “WHAT ARE YOU HERE FOR?!?”

             “STD TESTING!!!!”

Rosa pushed some  papers through the glass partition for him to fill out.

            “DO YOU HAVE SYMPTOMS?”

Leigh looked at her incredulously. He leaned forward so that his rather long torso was twisted awkwardly through the window, his nose inches away from Rosa’s.

            “Yes”

He whispered looking right at her. Rosita jumped back.

             “SIR! YOU MUST KEEP BEHIND THE GLASS PARTITION! NOW SIR!  STEP BACK         NOW!”

Leigh jumped back and gathered the forms.

            “DO YOU PRESENTLY HAVE SYMPTOMS???”

            “YES!!!!” He yelled loudly.

           “YES I HAVE SYMPTOMS!” He yelled again for the benefit of the cheap seats.

Slightly embarrassed by his outburst, he silently slunk away, navigating through the crowded waiting room, trying not to make eye contact with anyone, fully aware that they were all now leaning away from him, legs tucked firmly under their chairs.  Unable to find an empty chair, he twisted awkwardly into the corner against the water cooler. Leigh wished Karl was burning in hell. Or at least burning when he peed, and felt really, really sorry for Paolo.

~

Karl was not only an ex-marine, but had the mentality of “Don’t ask don’t tell” when it came to drippy itches or itchy drips, as well as bumps, burning or rashes. When Karl had been ‘straight’, twenty some years ago, he had gotten HPV from a girl.

His doctor had given him some cream and advise.

            “Not a big deal son. Most people get HPV at some point. No need to tell anyone –   Then again don’t let anyone give you oral sex if you’re not wearing a condom.   You’ll be fine.”

His dad had drunkenly slapped him on the back.

            “Welcome to the club son! You’re not a man until you have given some slut the  clap at least twice.” (Obviously not aware that the clap had nothing to do with  HPV).

His boyfriend broke up with him, but for other reasons.

            “I put that in my mouth?!? After you put it in a…. pussy?  How dare you?!?!?”

Karl decided never again to talk about STD’s. Nothing a shot of penicillin couldn’t cure. Or so he told himself. 

~

Paolo on the other hand was the complete opposite. He fully reported any abnormalities – even ingrown hairs –  to any and all men that could have the potential of ending up in bed with him. This included strangers at bars. He refused to become intimate with anyone until a full health assessment had been made. This included checking the bottoms of feet and hands for tell-tale rashes, and close up genital inspections done with the clinical precision of a lab technician. And while this made him ‘responsible’, and ‘caring’ it also served to show him how unfair life was. Needless to say, Karl, and other men like him were getting a lot more action in bed than Paolo was. 

 ~

And somewhere, someone was turning on their computer and logging into their email, unaware there was an unpleasant surprise waiting for which they would be forever grateful.

Commitment

 

8:30 pm and I am at the gym running like a demented hamster on the treadmill. Someone gets on the treadmill next to me and starts running. After twenty minutes of running side by side, both of us lost in the world of our iPods, I glance, doing a once over and quickly glance away. He’s perfect. Tall and somewhat toned.  His hair is fine, slightly wavy, a light honey blond that flops over his eyes as he runs. I glance over again out of the corner of my eye and make contact with deep green eyes and a slightly crooked smile. I quickly look forward, just in time to keep myself from falling off the treadmill. If I am going to die, it won’t be in front of the most gorgeous guy I have seen in ages.  I keep running and I can’t help doing something which many would argue is a trait of the feminine psyche. In my mind an image of us flashes living together in a perfect condo, no make it a perfect loft with perfect leather furniture and a perfect view as he pours me some wine. I am so lost in my daydream that before I know it the time on the treadmill is over and perfect stranger is gone.

“So what you are telling me is that commitment, the blissful ever after is a fantasy?” 

I’m having lunch with Marina and Beto and I am telling them about the gym guy fantasy.

“Well, yeah. We’re human. Evolutionarily we are not meant for life-time commitment” I respond to Beto’s question.

Marina quickly adds, “I agree. I mean, its not impossible, but the majority of couples stay in it out of comfort – in the long run I mean.”

“I just can’t accept that the concept of soul mates doesn’t exist” sighed Beto.

Marina answers, “No, soul mates exist, but it’s interesting that the excitement of building a future together is there at the beginning of the relationship, and then, somewhere along the line we still love that person, but… but we realize that the person we invested so much in doesn’t fulfill us completely, or if they do, then something else is missing. So we move on to the next fantasy.”

“So you and Kari…” I venture tentatively.

“She loved me. But I couldn’t give her what she wanted. She was my soul mate, and I will always love her. I guess it was a wrong time wrong place situation.”

“Why does it always come down to that? Perfect timing. In my experience most men think that one is either ready to move in with them, marry them, have their kids, and you’ve only talked to them a handful of times. Or on the other extreme they just want NSA sex.”

Beto looks at me and responds, “because men fall into two categories. They’re either not looking for commitment or their biological clock is ticking. And those will grab whoever crosses their path first.”

“And then you have the in-betweens.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean Marina, the ones that are in relationships but want to act like they’re single. The ones that convince themselves they can’t live without you but wish they were single.”

“Uh-oh. What’s going on?”

“I think Frat-boy may or may not want to be cheating on me.”

“Details please.”

“I caught him chatting with some girl named Stavinska online. After all the years it took him to commit, he finally does, and when he does, decides he wants the best of all worlds.”

Marina looked at Beto. “Stavinska? Is that a name?”

“It sounds like a mail order bride.” Beto responded.

I interrupted them. “I understand, the need for something new, something fresh…”

“So what happened?” Beto asked.

“Well he had been staying up really late at night on the computer and I couldn’t see what he was doing but I could hear the ding of the chat notification going on and on. Finally one day I was at the farmer’s market and I run into this girl who I recognized from yoga. We make eye contact and she seems really nervous. I say hi and ask her if she recognizes me. And she says yes, and says she knows I am the Frat-boys girlfriend. That surprised me. Before I could ask her how she knew that she said she was sorry and she’s been having a lot of issues with her girlfriend.  Anyhow she ended up telling me the whole story of her online affair or something like that with my boyfriend.”

“Wow, her girlfriend???  Frat-boy was banging a lesbian? Well banging in the virtual world…”

“Thanks Beto for putting it so poetically. I would rather say he had a flirtation.  Anyhow I got home and asked him what was going on and he lied. He said he didn’t know any chunky big-breasted Russian red-heads. So I told him what had happened at the market and he finally admitted they were exchanging messages of a very sexual nature, but he didn’t really apologize. It was more a justification. Anyhow I wonder if someone stronger and more independent than me would have seen this as a sign we are moving apart. I don’t know, what do you think Marina?”

“I think that you don’t want to rock the boat. I think that its probably not the first time he’s done this to you, because the first time you do something like this you feel so guilty you don’t keep it going this long or lie about it so easily.”

“I beg to differ” said Beto. “Frat-boy is a good guy but his problem is he’s immature and probably just saw this as a way to fantasize without getting caught. This reminds me of Enrique and Carlo though, do you remember Enrique did the same thing to Carlo?  Had an online affair for months. The difference is that they’re actually not even working on their relationship at all.”

“I had forgotten about that!  You’re right, and Carlo found out and even after he found out he still stayed with Enrique even though he later found out that Enrique kept doing that with several people.”

“I wonder why they don’t break up.” I said.

“Because after so many years their hell is better than an unknown heaven. Or at least more comfortable, and they don’t realize life is passing them by. They’re scared that if they let each other go, they won’t have commitment anymore without realizing that they never had it.”

We finished our lunch soon after that and each went our separate ways.  As I drove home, I thought about what Marina had said, about how some people prefer a comfortable hell than and unknown heaven.  I knew that Frat-boy and I still had a lot of fight left for our relationship, but at the same time there was a thin line between sticking it out, fighting for it, and just settling. 

It made me wonder about those couples that cross the line into complacency.  Did they see it coming? Was it so easy to believe that they couldn’t live without their partner, to the point where they could sacrifice what they wanted and needed? Were they ever ready to admit that maybe, just maybe being with their partner was not a waste of time, but it was however wasting the time in which they could be with someone that truly gave them what they wanted and needed.

I hoped that Frat-boy and I wouldn’t become that couple. Ever.

And then I started to daydream about our future, and it was beautiful because it was much more than just a dream about a loft with leather furniture.

Anniversaries

 

Fruitfly

Fruitfly

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The Fruitfly’s Encyclopedia

Anniversaries

One warm and windy July night I tottered briskly on my five inch heels, my arms laden with cake and a cheesy banner that said “That’s Amore!” in spangly letters. I was on my way to The Wine Bandit to celebrate the two year anniversary of our friends Gary and Chad. As I approached the wine bar, I could see through the window that the gaggle was already there. Leigh’s head towered a good foot over everyone else, Stu and Paolo were huddled together, Stu with a glass of red in one hand, looking uncomfortable in his new white sweater which I knew for a fact made his armpits itch.

“Hi!  I’m here, am I late?” I breathlessly crashed in through the entrance, trying to keep the cake from falling and the door from slamming me on my skinny jean covered ass.

“You’re always late. Anyway anniversaries are a crock.” Beto said bitterly, adjusting his new pinstripe suit to fall smoothly over his teal Thomas Pink shirt with french cuffs.

“That’s because you’ve never had an anniversary past three weeks.” Leigh quickly responded.

“More importantly, where are Gary and Chad? I want cake.” I said.

“Oh honey, you always want cake.” Leigh replied. “Where is your monogamous man-friend lover?”

“The boyfriend had a very important meeting with the frat.” I responded, rolling my eyes.

Half and hour and several bottles of wine later, Gary walked in, looking fashionable as always in tight jeans and a Guess shirt with an intricate pattern on the back. Despite looking fabulous, his eyes were sad and he wasn’t smiling. Most importantly, he was alone.

“You’re late! Where’s Chad?” I asked.

Gary responded, “We had a fight. I think we’re breaking up.”

“This is an anniversary party for you guys! Not a break-up party!”

“Beto, shut up. What happened Gary?”

“We were having sex…”

“Usually NOT having sex is the reason for my breakups.” Paolo muttered.

“We were having the best sex ever, until I called him Keith! I can’t believe I’m so stupid!” Gary wailed. “It was going great, and then I said, ‘OH KEITH!!!!’ and he stopped. We were both quiet for a few seconds. Then he silently pulled away, put on his clothes and walked out the door. So I got dressed and went to his place, where he was sitting on the couch, not even dressed for this. I was totally chicken shit so I said, ‘What’s wrong?’”

This elicited a collective groan from the group.

“Two years Gary! You don’t pretend when you fuck up after two years!”

“Yeah I know Paolo. Thanks. But I just… I just couldn’t. Then he said really quietly, ‘I heard you. I heard you call me Keith’ and I denied it. I said to him, ‘No baby, I said Oh-kay! Not oh Keith. Oh-kay like, okay!’ But he didn’t believe me. He said he knows about Keith. How the hell does he know about Keith? It happened three years ago!”

“I dated Keith too and err…”

“YOU told him Beto?”

“Well it may have slipped out. Chad was asking me about Keith and I mentioned that I had dated him before you had Gary.”

I quickly interrupted. “So then what happened Gary?”

“Well since I couldn’t deny it I told him that you know, we all fantasize from time to time about someone else. He said, ‘Yeah but we don’t all scream out someone else’s name, we don’t fantasize to the point where we forget who we’re with.”

Beto interjected, “Sometimes I forget who I’m with…”

“Beto, that’s because you usually met them five minutes ago.” I said.

Gary continued, “Anyhow so then the best explanation I could give was that he shouldn’t be hurt and that it was a compliment! That because I always felt really safe and secure with Keith and now I felt that same way with him!”

Another collective groan.

“Gary! You’ve been with him for two years! Maybe, maybe after two months you can get away with that!”

“I know, I fucked up.”

We ate the cake in silence.

On the walk back to the car Beto and I carried the sad remains of what should have been happy festivities.

“You remember when we all met here five years ago?” I asked Beto

“Yeah, another anniversary. Seems like forever. We barely knew each other.”

“And you thought Paolo was sooo cute.”

“But he was dating Stu at the time.”

We walked on in silence for a few minutes.

“Do you think next year we’ll look back at this and laugh?”

“I don’t know. Maybe next year Paolo and I will be celebrating our anniversary.” Beto responded.

“I thought you were over your Paolo crush. Remember? Not your type?”

“Well yes, but that’s my point. You never know where life takes you. Anyhow, anniversaries are for remembering… and sometimes you laugh and sometimes you cry. But then you eat cake and put off the memories for another year.”

Dropping Beto off at his car I walked towards the Twink-Mobile. As I walked, I had my own fantasy, not about a man, but about next year. I pictured us at the Wine Bandit again, all of us together, I would still be with the Frat-boy, Paolo would have found the love of his life, Stu would be wearing a non-itchy sweater, and Gary and Chad would be ok.

Fruitfly

Fruitfly

About the Fruitfly | Register | Contact

The Fruitfly’s Encyclopedia

Anniversaries

One warm and windy July night I tottered briskly on my five inch heels, my arms laden with cake and a cheesy banner that said “That’s Amore!” in spangly letters. I was on my way to The Wine Bandit to celebrate the two year anniversary of our friends Gary and Chad. As I approached the wine bar, I could see through the window that the gaggle was already there. Leigh’s head towered a good foot over everyone else, Stu and Paolo were huddled together, Stu with a glass of red in one hand, looking uncomfortable in his new white sweater which I knew for a fact made his armpits itch.

“Hi!  I’m here, am I late?” I breathlessly crashed in through the entrance, trying to keep the cake from falling and the door from slamming me on my skinny jean covered ass.

“You’re always late. Anyway anniversaries are a crock.” Beto said bitterly, adjusting his new pinstripe suit to fall smoothly over his teal Thomas Pink shirt with french cuffs.

“That’s because you’ve never had an anniversary past three weeks.” Leigh quickly responded.

“More importantly, where are Gary and Chad? I want cake.” I said.

“Oh honey, you always want cake.” Leigh replied. “Where is your monogamous man-friend lover?”

“The boyfriend had a very important meeting with the frat.” I responded, rolling my eyes.

Half and hour and several bottles of wine later, Gary walked in, looking fashionable as always in tight jeans and a Guess shirt with an intricate pattern on the back. Despite looking fabulous, his eyes were sad and he wasn’t smiling. Most importantly, he was alone.

“You’re late! Where’s Chad?” I asked.

Gary responded, “We had a fight. I think we’re breaking up.”

“This is an anniversary party for you guys! Not a break-up party!”

“Beto, shut up. What happened Gary?”

“We were having sex…”

“Usually NOT having sex is the reason for my breakups.” Paolo muttered.

“We were having the best sex ever, until I called him Keith! I can’t believe I’m so stupid!” Gary wailed. “It was going great, and then I said, ‘OH KEITH!!!!’ and he stopped. We were both quiet for a few seconds. Then he silently pulled away, put on his clothes and walked out the door. So I got dressed and went to his place, where he was sitting on the couch, not even dressed for this. I was totally chicken shit so I said, ‘What’s wrong?’”

This elicited a collective groan from the group.

“Two years Gary! You don’t pretend when you fuck up after two years!”

“Yeah I know Paolo. Thanks. But I just… I just couldn’t. Then he said really quietly, ‘I heard you. I heard you call me Keith’ and I denied it. I said to him, ‘No baby, I said Oh-kay! Not oh Keith. Oh-kay like, okay!’ But he didn’t believe me. He said he knows about Keith. How the hell does he know about Keith? It happened three years ago!”

“I dated Keith too and err…”

“YOU told him Beto?”

“Well it may have slipped out. Chad was asking me about Keith and I mentioned that I had dated him before you had Gary.”

I quickly interrupted. “So then what happened Gary?”

“Well since I couldn’t deny it I told him that you know, we all fantasize from time to time about someone else. He said, ‘Yeah but we don’t all scream out someone else’s name, we don’t fantasize to the point where we forget who we’re with.”

Beto interjected, “Sometimes I forget who I’m with…”

“Beto, that’s because you usually met them five minutes ago.” I said.

Gary continued, “Anyhow so then the best explanation I could give was that he shouldn’t be hurt and that it was a compliment! That because I always felt really safe and secure with Keith and now I felt that same way with him!”

Another collective groan.

“Gary! You’ve been with him for two years! Maybe, maybe after two months you can get away with that!”

“I know, I fucked up.”

We ate the cake in silence.

On the walk back to the car Beto and I carried the sad remains of what should have been happy festivities.

“You remember when we all met here five years ago?” I asked Beto

“Yeah, another anniversary. Seems like forever. We barely knew each other.”

“And you thought Paolo was sooo cute.”

“But he was dating Stu at the time.”

We walked on in silence for a few minutes.

“Do you think next year we’ll look back at this and laugh?”

“I don’t know. Maybe next year Paolo and I will be celebrating our anniversary.” Beto responded.

“I thought you were over your Paolo crush. Remember? Not your type?”

“Well yes, but that’s my point. You never know where life takes you. Anyhow, anniversaries are for remembering… and sometimes you laugh and sometimes you cry. But then you eat cake and put off the memories for another year.”

Dropping Beto off at his car I walked towards the Twink-Mobile. As I walked, I had my own fantasy, not about a man, but about next year. I pictured us at the Wine Bandit again, all of us together, I would still be with the Frat-boy, Paolo would have found the love of his life, Stu would be wearing a non-itchy sweater, and Gary and Chad would be okOne warm and windy July night I tottered briskly on my five inch heels, my arms laden with cake and a cheesy banner that said “That’s Amore!” in spangly letters. I was on my way to The Wine Bandit to celebrate the two year anniversary of our friends Gary and Chad. As I approached the wine bar, I could see through the window that the gaggle was already there. Leigh’s head towered a good foot over everyone else, Stu and Paolo were huddled together, Stu with a glass of red in one hand, looking uncomfortable in his new white sweater which I knew for a fact made his armpits itch.

One warm and windy July night I tottered briskly on my five inch heels, my arms laden with cake and a cheesy banner that said “That’s Amore!” in spangly letters. I was on my way to The Wine Bandit to celebrate the two year anniversary of our friends Gary and Chad. As I approached the wine bar, I could see through the window that the gaggle was already there. Leigh’s head towered a good foot over everyone else, Stu and Paolo were huddled together, Stu with a glass of red in one hand, looking uncomfortable in his new white sweater which I knew for a fact made his armpits itch.

“Hi!  I’m here, am I late?” I breathlessly crashed in through the entrance, trying to keep the cake from falling and the door from slamming me on my skinny jean covered ass.

“You’re always late. Anyway anniversaries are a crock.” Beto said bitterly, adjusting his new pinstripe suit to fall smoothly over his teal Thomas Pink shirt with french cuffs.

“That’s because you’ve never had an anniversary past three weeks.” Leigh quickly responded.

“More importantly, where are Gary and Chad? I want cake.” I said.

“Oh honey, you always want cake.” Leigh replied. “Where is your monogamous man-friend lover?”

“The boyfriend had a very important meeting with the frat.” I responded, rolling my eyes.

Half and hour and several bottles of wine later, Gary walked in, looking fashionable as always in tight jeans and a Guess shirt with an intricate pattern on the back. Despite looking fabulous, his eyes were sad and he wasn’t smiling. Most importantly, he was alone.

“You’re late! Where’s Chad?” I asked.

Gary responded, “We had a fight. I think we’re breaking up.”

“This is an anniversary party for you guys! Not a break-up party!”

“Beto, shut up. What happened Gary?”

“We were having sex…”

“Usually NOT having sex is the reason for my breakups.” Paolo muttered.

“We were having the best sex ever, until I called him Keith! I can’t believe I’m so stupid!” Gary wailed. “It was going great, and then I said, ‘OH KEITH!!!!’ and he stopped. We were both quiet for a few seconds. Then he silently pulled away, put on his clothes and walked out the door. So I got dressed and went to his place, where he was sitting on the couch, not even dressed for this. I was totally chicken shit so I said, ‘What’s wrong?’”

This elicited a collective groan from the group.

“Two years Gary! You don’t pretend when you fuck up after two years!”

“Yeah I know Paolo. Thanks. But I just… I just couldn’t. Then he said really quietly, ‘I heard you. I heard you call me Keith’ and I denied it. I said to him, ‘No baby, I said Oh-kay! Not oh Keith. Oh-kay like, okay!’ But he didn’t believe me. He said he knows about Keith. How the hell does he know about Keith? It happened three years ago!”

“I dated Keith too and err…”

“YOU told him Beto?”

“Well it may have slipped out. Chad was asking me about Keith and I mentioned that I had dated him before you had Gary.”

I quickly interrupted. “So then what happened Gary?”

“Well since I couldn’t deny it I told him that you know, we all fantasize from time to time about someone else. He said, ‘Yeah but we don’t all scream out someone else’s name, we don’t fantasize to the point where we forget who we’re with.”

Beto interjected, “Sometimes I forget who I’m with…”

“Beto, that’s because you usually met them five minutes ago.” I said.

Gary continued, “Anyhow so then the best explanation I could give was that he shouldn’t be hurt and that it was a compliment! That because I always felt really safe and secure with Keith and now I felt that same way with him!”

Another collective groan.

“Gary! You’ve been with him for two years! Maybe, maybe after two months you can get away with that!”

“I know, I fucked up.”

We ate the cake in silence.

On the walk back to the car Beto and I carried the sad remains of what should have been happy festivities.

“You remember when we all met here five years ago?” I asked Beto.

“Yeah, another anniversary. Seems like forever. We barely knew each other.”

“And you thought Paolo was sooo cute.”

“But he was dating Stu at the time.”

We walked on in silence for a few minutes.

“Do you think next year we’ll look back at this and laugh?”

“I don’t know. Maybe next year Paolo and I will be celebrating our anniversary.” Beto responded.

“I thought you were over your Paolo crush. Remember?  Not your type?”

“Well yes, but that’s my point. You never know where life takes you. Anyhow, anniversaries are for remembering… and sometimes you laugh and sometimes you cry. But then you eat cake and put off the memories for another year.”

Dropping Beto off at his car I walked towards the Twink-Mobile. As I walked, I had my own fantasy, not about a man, but about next year. I pictured us at the Wine Bandit again, all of us together, I would still be with the Frat-boy, Paolo would have found the love of his life, Stu would be wearing a non-itchy sweater, and Gary and Chad would be ok.