This week, I gave up lying.
And I don't just mean the big lies; I mean all the lies. Big, small, little white, "You bet I love Sheryl Crow!"--all of them.
Once I saw Library Boy's poetry performance--in which he did nearly as much harm to the spoken word as Jewel--my first instinct was to lie.
Then I asked myself--why was that my first instinct? Why wasn't it to figure out a kind way to tell him (truthfully) how I felt? The answer was pretty simple:
Because lying is easier.
To be honest, that scared me--how easy it was for me to think of a lie that would make Library Boy happy when I should be trying to find a way to be polite yet honest.
So I decided the time had come to give up lying.
ADAM: I think this is a great idea.
ME: Really?
ADAM: No, I was lying.
ME: Well, I suppose I walked into that one.
Adam proceeded to argue with me over the necessity of lying.
ADAM: Do you have any idea how crazy it would be if we all told each other the truth all the time?
ME: What would be so crazy about it?
ADAM: If I told half the people I know what I really think about them, they'd come running after me with pitchforks.
ME: But this whole experiment is about becoming a better person. How can anyone become a better person if nobody tells them what's wrong with them in the first place?
ADAM: So you're actually going to tell Library Boy you thought he sucked?
ME: No. I'm going to tell him that I didn't particularly like the poem, but that it was still really great getting to see him do something for which he has a passion.
ADAM: You're never getting in his pants talking like that.
ME: Don't be so dramatic!
ADAM: And you're not even being all that truthful. There might not have been anything wrong with the poem. In the hands of someone who had
more stage presence than Siegfried's Third Bengal Tiger, the poem might have been great. It was Library Boy that sucked.
ME: I didn't feel that he sucked.
ADAM: You're lying.
ME: He didn't suck.
ADAM: Kevin--
ME: All right, he sucked like a Hoover on a dirty floor! Are you happy?
ADAM: Maybe you can pull off this truth thing after all.
The best place to start is always with family. Unfortunately, when I woke up the next morning, I didn't get to try out my new resolution, because Mom and Roger had decided to stop lying as well...
Upon walking into the kitchen, I found everyone gathered at the kitchen table, and no breakfast in sight.
ME: Is this an intervention? Did you find the cheese block downstairs? Because I swear that's not mine.
MOM: It's not an intervention. It's a family meeting. Sit down, honey.
ME: Since when do we have family meetings?
RORY: I think Mom wants to make us a Dr. Phil family.
ME: Does that mean Rory has to start beating all of us with tire irons?
DANNY: Give it another week and he'll be doing that anyway.
Dead silence from the parental units. Mom and Roger didn't seem to be in a good-humored mood.
ME: Is everything okay, Mom?
I could see them both shift in their seats. Whatever they had to say was making them incredibly uncomfortable.
MOM: Your father...uh...
She couldn't seem to get the words out.
ROGER: I lost my job.
There was a bit of a quiet, and then--
DANNY, RORY, and ME: What?!?!
My Mom was already tearing up. I hate nothing more on this earth than seeing my mother cry, because it doesn't happen very often--except when she watches
Extreme Home Makeover and they give some kid with fins a five-story house with a pool and an aquarium.
MOM: We didn't know how to tell all of you. Dad's been out of work since August.
ME: August?
DANNY: Two months? It's been two months?
RORY: Dad, where have you been going every day?
ROGER: Job hunting, mostly. I picked up a few odd jobs with your Uncle doing yardwork, but now that the weather is getting colder--
RORY: Yardwork?
MOM: We just thought it was time to come clean with you boys. Things are going to be a little tight around here for awhile.
ME: Why didn't you tell us sooner? We could have been watching our spending.
RORY: I wouldn't have made all those calls to Korea!
Silence.
RORY: ...For your own safety, none of you heard that.
Roger stood up and began walking around the table. I could tell this wasn't easy for him to talk about, especially to us.
ROGER: We didn't want to worry you. We thought if I found another job soon enough you guys wouldn't even have to know. But this now this is looking like a long-term problem--
RORY: Long-term?
MOM: The economy's doing poorly at the moment.
RORY: What does this mean for my school next year?
Rory, like Danny and I, was supposed to be going to private school, since the public high school where we live is a step above a prison with lockers.
MOM: We're going to have to figure something out.
RORY: Figure something out?
ROGER: It'll all be okay.
RORY: You don't know that!
MOM: We do--
RORY: And I can't believe you've been lying to us this whole time!
ME: Rory, relax. They were just trying to--
RORY: Trying to what? Pretend that all of this was just going to go away? We could have been doing something about it!
ROGER: I've been doing something. I've been out every day doing something.
RORY: Well I guess you're not doing enough then.
MOM: Rory!
RORY: How did you lose your job in the first place anyway?
ROGER: None of your business.
RORY: It is my business if I have to go to some shitty school--
ROGER: Watch your mouth.
DANNY: It's all about you, isn't it, Rory?
RORY: Shut up, Danny!
MOM: Guys, calm down.
RORY: I'm done!
Rory got up and walked away. Danny looked like he was going to cry (he's always been the most sensitive of the three of us) but when Mom got up to hug him, he just took off. Roger went downstairs looking pretty dejected. That left just me and Mom.
My Mom and I have always had a special bond since for four years of my life--and a crucial four years at that--it was just me and her. We can talk about almost anything, and lately she's been much more accepting of the fact that I am, for all intents and purposes, an adult. That's why I was really hurt that she didn't let me know sooner what was going on.
ME: Mom, why didn't you tell me? I could have helped.
MOM: I don't need my son's help.
ME: I'll remember that when the wheelchair's rolling down the hill someday.
MOM: Let's just drop it, okay?
ME: Fine, it's dropped.
With that, I got my coat and went to work. I guess I could have been a little more understanding, but I was with Rory and Danny on this. What was happening was a family problem and although I appreciated Mom and Roger not wanting to scare us, keeping us in the dark hadn't done any good.
As I was leaving, I went to check on Rory. He was in his room looking sullen.
ME: You punch any holes in the wall?
RORY: Besides the ones that were already there? No.
ME: I'll help with your tuition if I have to. You won't have to go to any school you don't want to go to. I promise.
RORY: Odd Guy's lying.
ME: Huh?
RORY: About the affair. He's lying to Linda and the Greek about seeing Blondie and Punky going at it. I've been getting good at reading his lips from this distance.
It was then that I realized he was watching the Model House across the street.
ME: He has to. He can't tell the truth because...
Wait, did me giving up lying mean I couldn't defend people who lie anymore? I decided that I couldn't apply my own rules to others, and continued--
ME: ...Because it's not his place.
RORY: Then whose place is it?
ME: Rory--
RORY: Now when the Greek and Linda find out what's been going on, they'll know Odd Guy lied to them.
ME: Hopefully they'll understand why he did.
RORY: But the thing is, once you know somebody can lie to you, how can you ever trust them again?
It was then I realized why Rory was having such a hard time with Odd Guy's deception. It's tough the first time you realize your parents have lied to you. That the Easter Bunny doesn't exist. That thunder isn't God bowling. That the monkeys in the zoo don't get to go to Africa for six months every year as part of a transfer program in case they don't like living at the zoo and...
Okay, so maybe I was extra-naive as a child.
BETH: I'd go with that.
ME: Maybe lying is just a staple of everyday life.
BETH: Of course it is. It's a necessity. If it weren't for lying, I'd be forced to have dinner with Carlos tonight.
ME: He's still asking you out? I thought this was just a fling?
Carlos is Beth's bisexual boss who happens to have a major crush on her. Up until now, their relationship had been purely physical/professional (okay so maybe those two should not be separated by a mere slash) but lately he'd be trying to get more out of her.
BETH: For example, before dinner tonight he wanted me to come over and get his mail. He's been running the Welsh marathon all weekend.
ME: He runs marathons?
BETH: Yeah, just to prove to himself he can or something like that. I don't know. It's something about self-esteem. The whole thing sickens me.
ME: And that's what you meant when you said he wanted more?
BETH: No, in addition to that, he wants us to date.
ME: And you lied to somehow get him off your back?
BETH: Yeah, I told him I had a boyfriend.
ME: Beth!
BETH: What? Should I have said a girlfriend? Is that more of a turn-off? I don't know how these bisexuals think.
ME: You could have just told him the truth. That you don't feel comfortable dating or sleeping with your boss.
BETH: But then he would have fired me.
ME: You could sue him!
BETH: That would be time-consuming! Lying is quicker and, in the long run, more efficient.
ME: Beth--
BETH: It's the right thing to do!
ME: That's a lie!
BETH: No, it isn't. It's perfectly acceptable.
ME: No, it's not!
BETH: I quit smoking!
ME: What?
BETH: Sorry, but when you get on a roll like that--
After I gave up trying to convince Beth to be honest with the crazed Latin bisexual Welsh-marathon runner, I was already running late for work, and today I had a meeting with the union negotiator regarding the new contract for me and the Golden Girls.
Our union rep is a sleazeball named Vinny who's supposed to be working in our favor but is really just looking to appease us by doing as little as humanly possible.
(When you imagine Vinny, think of Jabba the Hut with more drool.)
I walked into the meeting feeling pretty confident. Knowing that Vinny is an old-time Italian boy, I decided to throw him off balance by upping my gayness.
ME: Heyyyy Vinny.
VINNY: Uh...Hi. How you doing, sir?
He says "sir" in the most condescending way possible. It's like when my mother says "English major." (E.g. Kevin knows what he's talking about. He's an
English major.)
ME: I'm not doing too good, Vinny. We're five months past our contract deadline.
VINNY: I told you, these things take time.
ME: Oh, I understand that. After all, the town has hired lawyers to try and figure out a loophole to screw us all over.
Vinny didn't know I knew that, so I enjoyed watching him squirm when I brought it up. Thank God the mayor's secretary and I flirt with each other whenever I see him out places.
VINNY: That's not what they're hiring lawyers for.
ME: Oh yeah? What else would they be for? Does it take five lawyers to finalize a prenup?
VINNY: Now, look--
ME: No, you look. If they can afford to pay five people to scour a contract for five months--and I'm sure at some point overtime pay came into effect--then they can afford to give me and the ladies an itty bitty little raise.
Vinny leaned back and folded his hands over his stomach. He was about to play a card--either that or lick the dried food off his lips.
VINNY: They'll give you the raise.
ME: What?
VINNY: I said they'll give you the raise.
ME: And the catch would be--?
VINNY: No more using sick time as vacation time.
ME: What?
VINNY: From now on, whenever anybody takes a sick day, they want a note from a doctor.
This was a problem. You see, the way our contract is set up, we get a sick day and a half every month, but we only get two weeks vacation time a year (I know, two weeks is a lot, but when you're someone like me who does shows and stuff, you use up your vacation time pretty quick, and you've got all this sick time just sitting there...)
ME: That's outrageous. Every time someone gets food poisoning they have to drag themselves to a doctor and get some lame note like we're teenagers? I mean, I'm still pretty much a teenager--in turtle years--but the ladies--
VINNY: None of you are using that sick time because you're sick, and everybody knows it.
ME: Vinny--
VINNY: Look me in the eye and tell me sick time isn't being abused.
Damn. Why did I have to make this pledge to myself this week? I couldn't lie.
ME: It might be...getting used for purposes other than sickness.
Martha got sick a few months ago and decided to recuperate in Atlantic City at the blackjack table. Daisy once used her sick time to go to a flower convention. Millie uses sick time whenever there's a good episode of Oprah on television.
VINNY: So from now on, doctors' notes, and you can have the raise. I'll make sure of it.
ME: Ugh.
VINNY: Deal?
What other choice did I have?
ME: Deal.
I had a feeling this wouldn't go over very well at the Circ desk.
MARTHA: You didn't lie?!
The Golden Girls were not too happy with the way I handled the situation.
MARTHA: Why didn't you lie?
DAISY: We can't use our sick time?
ME: You can use it--when you're sick.
MARTHA: I'm seventy-three years old! The next time I get sick they're sending me straight to the morgue! I want to use my sick time for living!
MILLIE: I told the kids I could visit them in St. Paul next month after I came down with a case of the mumps.
ME: The mumps? That was the best you could do?
DAISY: I use my sick time for Christmas shopping!
MARTHA: For yourself!
DAISY: I love Christmas!
MILLIE: Kevin, you have to fix this.
ME: Ladies, we were using it inappropriately! That's why we have to give it up. We were breaking the rule! Besides, you still have your two weeks.
MARTHA: Please! I use that in January when I'm in Vegas for the family reunion. What am I supposed to do the rest of the year?
ME: Family reunion?
MARTHA: I can't help it if my family reunites at the Palm Casino.
I was trying to think of how I could calm everybody down when Library boy showed up at the desk looking cuter than ever and carrying a copy of
Don't Get Too Comfortable.
ME: Oh, David Rakoff.
LIBRARY BOY: That's the nicest thing anyone's called me all day.
MILLIE: You young people--
DAISY: They have their own language.
I shot them a stare equivalent to signing a DNR, and they all went about their work.
LIBRARY BOY: So what did you think of the show the other night?
ME: Um, well, it's funny you ask that.
LIBRARY BOY: Wait, I already know what you're going to say.
Wow, maybe this would easier than I thought.
LIBRARY BOY: I know most of it was pretty rough.
He was reading my mind! This wouldn't be a problem at all!
LIBRARY BOY: That's why I'm not going to make you comment on the other poets. A lot of that stuff was work in progress. You just happened to come on one of those nights, you know?
One of those... Oh...
LIBRARY BOY: But I do want to know what you thought of my poem.
F**k me.
Well, time to be honest.
ME: I thought it was a little cliched.
LIBRARY BOY: Cliched?
MARTHA: He's screwed.
ME: Martha!
LIBRARY BOY: No, it's cool. I mean, you found it--
ME: The metaphor about love and chocolate. It's just...you know? Love and chocolate?
LIBRARY BOY: Yeah, I mean it can be overdone.
Like my mother's ham is overdone. (Just know that it is, always, overdone. Otherwise the simile doesn't work.)
ME: But I loved your energy.
LIBRARY BOY: You mean in performing it?
No, performance wise you had the energy of any member of the cast of
Cocoon. Argh! Stop being a bastard! Be constructive!
ME: I just like your overall energy...as a person.
LIBRARY BOY: Oh...
ME: But I really admire you for getting up there and being able to do what you love.
LIBRARY BOY: Gotcha.
He looked really hurt. I checked out his books, and with a--
LIBRARY BOY: Later.
--He was gone.
DAISY: Kev, you know what they say about honesty?
ME: That it's the best policy?
DAISY: No, that you're an idiot if you use it all the time.
ME: Who says that?
MILLIE: The three old ladies you work with, that's who.
MARTHA: If I have to give up San Cabo, you're in big trouble, Mister.
I was trying to think of how I could have been truthful with Library Boy without hurting his feelings and I just didn't see any way around it. I guess there are times when little white lies are appropriate, but isn't it kind of ridiculous that we, as a society, have become so sensitive that we need to deceive each other just to co-exist?
(My God, I'm being pretentious.)
JOEY: I think you're right, Kevin. I personally try to never lie about anything.
And I believed it. I've never known Joey to even exaggerate.
ME: Geez, Joey, how do you do it?
JOEY: I leave things out.
ME: Excuse me?
JOEY: If there's something I think I'd have to lie about I just avoid talking about whatever subject that lie would have to fall into--like what I think of someone's cooking, or their haircut--
ME: Joey, that's pretty much lying anyway.
JOEY: No, it's not.
ME: It's the absence of truth, which is lying.
JOEY: It's a refusal to lie.
ME: It's withholding information.
JOEY: Maybe, but that's not lying.
ME: So wait, are there things you're withholding now?
JOEY: What do you mean by things?
ME: Information. Things you'd have to lie about if I asked you about them. Anything like that floating around in your head that I should know about?
JOEY: Yes.
ME: So?
JOEY: It's raining outside.
ME: Joey, you're not going to divert me just by saying--
JOEY: Adam told me you once ate rice off a table.
ME: It was one piece of rice that fell of my plate and--Don't do that!
JOEY: Kevin, I don't want to lie, but I can admit that if you back someone into a corner, sometimes it's what they have to do.
ME: Yeah, you have a good point. So...when I tried to ask you why you didn't call me back the other night and you said '
The Lady and the Tramp is a classic Disney movie'--
JOEY: Boy, those crazy dogs eating spaghetti! What about them?
The omission of truth--is it lying? I guess it's not, but it still gets you in trouble when someone finds out what you've been omitting...
I was going to bring this up over dinner at my Dad's house--my Dad being one of the bigger liars I know; I thought it might be a good idea to remind myself what it is I
don't want to sound like at forty--when there was a familiar explosion upon entering the house.
FEMALE VOICE: You son-of-a-bitch!
ME: Something tells me they skipped the appetizers.
Stacey, my stepmother, Harry, my older brother, Deana, his pregnant girlfriend, and my Dad were all in the living room. Deana was systematically picking things up and throwing things at Harry, while my stepmother and father tried to get her under control.
This was very unlike Deana. I'd always known her to be an incredibly calm person. I surmised that Harry must have done something really bad.
ME: I'm here for dinner.
DEANA: Hi Kev, your brother's a filthy rotten liar!
ME: Doesn't really surprise me. Are we having mashed potatoes?
STACEY: They're on the stove. I'll make you a plate after I stop Deana from killing your brother.
ME: What did you do, Harry?
DAD: He got his d**k caught in a twister. That's what he did.
ME: Thank you, Dad, for that witty remark. Now, can anyone be more specific?
DEANA: He has a kid!
ME: Well, not yet he doesn't.
Then it dawned on me.
ME: Oh, you have got to be kidding.
Apparently Harry, following in our father's footsteps, got a girl pregnant at an early age and didn't tell anyone...
Hmm, perhaps I should rethink the word "anyone."
ME: Dad, you knew about this, didn't you?
STACEY: Kevin, I'm sure your father--
DAD: Yeah, you got me, I knew about it.
DEANA and STACEY: What?
My father knew better than to deny things to me. I could always tell when he was lying--it usually occurred immediately following any intake of breath.
DAD: He had a problem. I took care of it.
STACEY: Uh, no you didn't, because now the girl's calling his fiancee and asking for child support, Kevin!
HARRY: I'm still really uncomfortable with that term...
fiancee--
DEANA: Don't worry about it, because after today we're not together anymore! I will not be married to a liar!
She started sobbing and allowed Stacey to embrace her.
DEANA: I can't believe you would do this, Harry. I just can't...
Stacey led her into the bathroom to try and calm her down.
HARRY: I told you, Dad! I told you I should have told her!
With that, he stormed out of the house and sat outside on the front step. That left me and my Dad.
ME: More accolades for the Broccoli men.
DAD: That's enough out of you.
ME: You don't see the irony here? Harry producing another Harry?
DAD: Easy for you to judge. It's not like you'll be fathering any children.
ME: If that's you implying that I only avoid trouble like that because I'm gay, then not only do I resent the implication, I feel I should remind you that lying is not sexuality specific!
DAD: I lied because I had to. And it was nobody's business that Harry had a kid anyway.
ME: Not even the mother of his
second child?
DAD: I told you: I took care of it.
ME: Oh yeah? What did you do? Did you give her five grand and a trip to Maui to shut her up?
DAD: Try ten grand and her own condo in Cranston.
I was flabbergasted. Even knowing what I know about my father, I can't believe he would actually shell out ten grand to make someone disappear.
ME: And what about Harry? You didn't think he needed to raise his child?
DAD: He wasn't ready to be a father.
ME: And you thought that when he was he could just call the kid up and say 'Hey, guess who?'
DAD: I was hoping to be dead by then.
ME: Is that when I'll be meeting my other brothers and sisters? When they show up at the funeral?
DAD: Look, when you have a family then you can come to me and talk to me about how I took care of mine, but until you do, you're in no place to say anything.
ME: You
lied to your family, Dad. You lied over and over again.
DAD: I did my job. I made the people I love feel safe. Protected. And sometimes the only way to do that is to hide things from them. That's just life.
With that, he disappeared into the kitchen. I could still hear Deana crying in the bathroom. I could tell dinner wasn't going to happen. As I exited the house, I stopped in front of Harry.
ME: You need to apologize.
HARRY: It was Dad's fault. He told me he could make it go away.
ME: You can't make a kid go away. Did you go away?
HARRY: Yeah, I know.
ME: Did you like it when everyone tried to pretend you didn't exist?
HARRY: I get it, okay?
ME: Clearly, you didn't, because you did the exact same thing Dad did.
HARRY: I was fifteen! I was a kid!
ME: But you've been lying about it ever since then and--Oh, never mind. I'm not going to have this argument with you, Harry. The point is, you put your faith in the hands of the wrong guy--sadly, that guy is our father. You need to clean up your own mess from this point on, and that starts with going in there and telling Deana you're sorry and that you'll do whatever she wants to make up for it. Got it?
HARRY: Yeah, yeah, I get you.
ME: And next time, at least tell me. I could have...I don't know. I could have helped.
HARRY: Oh yeah, because you're so easy to tell things to.
...Ouch.
Part of me knew it was true the minute he said it. I mean, here I was judging again. Meddling. As soon as I got in my car I started nibbling at my nails. Everything was going to Hell in an Italian bread basket. I had wanted to become a cool, considerate person who could help the people that they loved, not make them feel worse about what they've done...
Trying to help and making things worse.
Now I sounded like my father.
CARLY: I can understand why your brother lied.
ME: Carly, are you serious?
Actually, I wasn't surprised. Carly has a very dog-eat-dog view of life, as many of you already know. But what
did take me aback was the fact that Carly was defending a man lying to a woman. More than anything Carly was a feminist and I thought this kind of thing would rile her up at least a little bit.
CARLY: Normally, it would, but let's face it. You're not going to tell someone you just met that you have a kid. They'd go running for the hills. I'd run past the hills. I'd run to the slopes.
ME: When would the appropriate time to bring it up be then? The honeymoon? 'Oh, by the way, that kid using the shower is my twelve-year-old son. He'll be done in a second.'
CARLY: Kevin, people lie all the time to make themselves look better. If they didn't nobody would ever get together.
ME: But eventually all that stuff comes out.
CARLY: Of course it does. Slowly, and in casual ways so that nobody really notices what they're getting themselves into until it's already too late--it's basic human behavior.
ME: So you think humans lie instinctively?
CARLY: Kevin, have an eight-hundred pound woman ask you if she's fat. I'll bet everything I own that you answer with a 'No.' You won't even delay for a second. A woman asks you about her appearance and you say whatever it is that puts her fears to rest. There's no thought process. You just do it--even if it means lying. That's instinct.
ME: So why do women bother asking men questions at all then?
CARLY: Because it's our instinct to believe you're telling the truth even when you're lying.
ME: God you heteros are complicated.
CARLY: Moreso than the homos?
ME: Let's not go that far.
I hadn't really given any thought as to whether or not gay people were better or worse than straight people when it came to lying. I mean, gay guys can be catty, bitchy, and downright nasty, but we also have a tendency to be pretty blunt when we need to be.
ADAM: That bitch should not be wearing a half shirt.
Case in point: Adam.
He and I had gone out for a night of club-hopping and somehow wound up spending the last half hour of the night at an underwear party that should have been called a "Dear God, my eyes! MY EYES!" party. I think it's great that people can be so self-confident, but I also believe if you're going to get almost completely naked in public you should...
Well...
You should know your strengths and weaknesses. (By the way, this is coming from me--I've never even let my forearms show in public.)
ADAM: Why do all the worst looking people feel the need to expose themselves, dance like idiots, and then sweat on the innocent?
ME: Are you sure we haven't wandered into a Mayan mating ritual? I've been christened at least three times so far.
As I was pondering this, I spotted Derek across the bar.
ME: Oh terrific.
ADAM: What?
ME: It's Derek.
ADAM: Shower Sex?
ME: We're not calling him that.
ADAM: It looks like he's here with someone.
Actually, he was right. Derek seemed to be stuck to a really cute guy, and even though he looked over at me occasionally, most of his attention was focused on my new savior.
ADAM: I don't get it. Derek is hot. Why did you pass him up?
ME: Because he's only in it for the physical.
ADAM: You are a guy, right?
Just then I felt a tapping on my shoulder. When I turned around I came face to face with my friend, Dylan, who was quite drunk.
DYLAN: He's here.
ME: What? Who?
I thought he meant my friend Nick, who's been M.I.A. for the past few weeks. Had he finally reappeared?
DYLAN: Juan.
ME: Oh...Juan.
Juan was Nick's (ex?) boyfriend. Dylan had an affair with Nick before he disappeared and he thought Juan might have something to do with it.
ME: Dylan, you're not going to do anything stupid, are you?
DYLAN: Uh--yeah! That's why I got drunk.
ME: You shouldn't do--whatever it is you're thinking of doing.
ADAM: Ooohhh, is someone going to get cut?
ME: Adam!
DYLAN: I want to know where Nick is.
ME: So do I, but this isn't the way to go about it. Juan says he doesn't know what happened to Nick.
DYLAN: Like Hell he doesn't! That a**hole's going to talk if I have to pound his f**king brains out to get him to do it!
Dylan couldn't pound tomatoes into gravy, but at that moment he flipped around and started walking away like he was on a mission.
ME: We have to stop him.
ADAM: By 'we' you mean?
ME: I'll buy you a drink if you help me stop him from getting himself killed.
ADAM: Two drinks and pizza later.
ME: Two drinks and I don't tell everyone you slept with Body Odor Kid.
ADAM: I had a cold! I didn't know!
ME: Move it, Adam.
But as we were moving it, I moved right into Derek.
DEREK: Brockster!
ME: Oh great.
ADAM: Don't worry. I'm on it.
Adam kept following Dylan, while I paused to chat.
DEREK: Not happy to see me.
ME: I was a little busy actually.
DEREK: This won't take long. Did you see the guy I brought?
ME: Yes, he's very handsome. I hope you're both very happy together.
DEREK: Are you kidding?
ME: Um...no.
DEREK: You're not jealous?
ME: No, and I'm also not seven. I believe the two would be mutually exclusive in this case.
DEREK: Great.
ME: Wait a second, did you only bring that guy here to make me--
DEREK: Yeah! He's the hottest guy in my phone. I figured if he couldn't make you--
ME: That is insane! Does he know what he's here for?
DEREK: And you're killing me insane? That boy is the hottest ticket in town. I wouldn't let him know I was using him as bait for some doe-eyed saint.
ME: I am not a doe-eyed saint! And secondly, if he's such a hot ticket, you should be over there with him instead of lying and--
But when I went to motion towards the Hot Ticket, I found he wasn't there, but rather, almost next to me. He must have made his way over while I was arguing with Derek.
HOT TICKET: Hi, you're Kevin, right?
ME: Uh--yeah. I am.
HOT TICKET: Derek, you didn't tell me you knew him.
ME: I'm sorry, do I know you?
HOT TICKET: No, but I love your blog. My friend Caleb sent it to me. You're really talented.
ME: Thank you so much.
Now I was feeling awful. This guy was really nice and he was basically brought here to hang from a hook in front of me while Derek waited to see if I would bite.
HOT TICKET: Hey, can I enter the contest?
ME: The--oh, no, that's--
DEREK: Go ahead. What's the harm?
ME: Wait, if you read the--
But he was already laying one on me, and not a bad one at that. Once he pulled back, I got to finish my question.
ME: So you know about--
HOT TICKET: You and Derek? Yeah, well, it's a small state, right? You can't get upset over stuff like that. Paths will cross.
DEREK: Maybe all our paths could cross together.
It was then that I looked up and saw Adam on the second floor motioning for me to hurry. Something was going on.
ME: I think my path is going to take me elsewhere. But have a good night--both of you.
Now I was worried. What if Dylan had confronted Juan? He believed that Juan was into drugs and that Nick had found out about it, which might have lead to Nick being...
I didn't even want to think about it.
But what would Juan do if he was pushed too far? This could turn into an episode of
City Confidential.
JEFF: I love
City Confidential!
UNCLE WILL: Dylan's predicament was twistier than an Auntie Ann pretzel.
When relating what happened later to Jeff and Uncle Will, I couldn't believe how dramatic it all seemed.
UNCLE WILL: Please, if you want drama, try adopting a baby.
ME: Things aren't going well?
JEFF: Not going well would be a blessing. At the moment they're simply not going.
UNCLE WILL: We feel we're going to have to take drastic measures.
ME: Like what?
JEFF: Well, we've asked our friend Sarah to...um...assist us.
ME: Oh my God! You guys are going to have a surrogate?
UNCLE WILL: God no! I'm not putting my seed into a woman. Who knows what would grow out of that?
JEFF: We're asking her to pose as your uncle's wife for the adoption process.
ME: You're going to lie about being gay?
UNCLE WILL: Kevin, it'll be impossible for us to adopt as we are. Sarah is going to come along for the ride, and then when the adoption is complete, after a year, she'll terminate her parental rights and everything will be fine.
JEFF: After she divorces you.
UNCLE WILL: Right. After that.
ME: And you think this will fly?
JEFF: It's a chance we have to take.
UNCLE WILL: Look at it this way, you're getting a new aunt!
That little tidbit was almost as good as what happened when I finally made my way out to the front of the club where Dylan and Juan were verbally sparring.
ADAM: I tried to stop them.
ME: How?
ADAM: I said, 'Guyyys, stooooop!'
ME: And they didn't? I'm shocked.
Although I seemed to be coming into the conversation halfway, it seemed to be getting to the good part right as I started listening.
DYLAN: I know you did something to Nick!
JUAN: F**k you! I loved Nick!
DYLAN: So did I!
JUAN: Bulls**t! You just loved getting @#$% by him!
Whoa!
ADAM: Oooh, this s**t is getting good.
ME: Don't encourage them.
I kept trying to find a place to step in and end this, but part of me wanted to hear Juan's explanation for some of the things he'd been accused of.
DYLAN: He knew you were dealing drugs.
JUAN: You think I'm dealing drugs?
DYLAN: Oh come on, Juan, everybody knows it!
JUAN: Then you're a pretty big fool for getting in the face of a drug dealer, Dylan.
DYLAN: I'm not afraid of you.
JUAN: I don't need to be a dealer to tell you that you should be afraid of me.
DYLAN: If it wasn't about the drugs, then you did something to Nick because you knew he and I were going to be together after he dumped your sorry ass.
That was when Juan swung at Dylan, and I jumped in--catching the punch in the jaw.
ME: Oooowww!
Somehow an innocent bystander getting injured cooled the two boys off, and they both backed up. But that didn't stop them from shouting at each other. Some guys who were watching--a decent-sized crowd had now formed--grabbed the both of them to keep them apart.
JUAN: Nick wasn't going to leave me!
DYLAN: He loved me!
JUAN: He used you!
DYLAN: You're lying!
JUAN: I knew about you!
Silence. For a second, we all just took that in. Juan knew? He knew his boyfriend was cheating? But then why--?
JUAN: Nick and I had an open relationship, you dumb f**k. You think you were the only boy he ever promised his heart to? At the end of the day he'd come on home to me.
DYLAN: That's not true.
JUAN: Oh yeah? Tell me a time he ever spent the night with you.
Dylan didn't say anything. I could see his entire expression disappear. He was no longer mad, just stunned.
JUAN: We didn't tell anyone because it was nobody's business, but now that Nick's gone, who gives a f**k? So there, y'all know now. Don't anybody think I did anything to Nick because I got jealous. We didn't get jealous. He and I had a good thing. And wherever he is, I got nothing but love for him. And that's that.
Juan walked away with all of us staring after him, but I had to know more.
Despite the pain in my jaw, I ran after him and got to him right as he was getting to his car.
ME: Wait!
JUAN: I'm sorry I hit you.
ME: It was an accident.
JUAN: Sort of, but I can't say I'm sorry. You're the one stirring all this s**t up.
ME: I just want to find my friend. You must have some idea of why he's gone.
JUAN: I told you--
ME: I know what you told me, but what about what you haven't told me?
Juan looked like he was going to tell me to take a walk, but then he shook his head and laughed to himself.
JUAN: Did you know Nick wasn't out to his family?
ME: No. But wait, that can't--
JUAN: Trust me. He wasn't. You ever meet any of them?
ME: I haven't met lots of my friends' families.
JUAN: You weren't ever going to meet his. I can tell you that.
ME: What does that have to do with--
JUAN: I put my foot down. If he wasn't going to come out to them and tell them about me, then we weren't going to be together anymore.
ME: And did he do it?
JUAN: I don't know. He told me that he was going to, but the next day--he disappeared.
ME: Do you think--
JUAN: You don't know anything about Nick's family, and to be honest, I don't know much more. But I know he was terrified to tell his father he was gay. Said it might get him put in the ground somewhere.
ME: His own father?
JUAN: You know how it is, right?
ME: Yeah...I guess...I don't know.
JUAN: You want to find Nick? Ask his Daddy where he is.
With that, Juan got in the car, and left. I walked back to the club to get Adam, but he was already relaying what had happened to a trio of cute guys while he got their numbers. Dylan was sitting on the sidewalk with his head down.
ME: You okay, Dylan?
DYLAN: He f**king lied to me.
ME: He lied to a lot of people, I guess.
DYLAN: Why though? Why do that?
ME: I don't know. Maybe one day we'll find him and he can tell us.
DYLAN: He'll never be able to tell me why. He'll never be able to make that right.
And that was true. Lies tend to be the one thing you can't ever make right again. They're like living things. Once they're out of your mouth, they exist in one form or another. Known or unknown. And from that point on you have to live with them.
I got home at around two thirty to find my Mom sitting on the sofa in the living room looking out the window.
ME: Mom, what are you doing up?
MOM: I couldn't sleep.
ME: Any developments in the Model House?
MOM: Blondie and the Greek got into a really big fight. He took off and she ended up crying in her room to the Brunette--
ME: Linda Cardellini.
MOM: Right. Then Linda went to bed and Punky came down.
ME: No!
MOM: Yup.
ME: Scandalous.
MOM: I know. It all ended around one and I've just been sitting there since. I don't know why.
I felt bad. Mom had a terrible day and I hadn't even tried to make it any better.
ME: Mom, I'm sorry everything is going so rough. I just want you to know that I don't blame you for lying. You were just trying to do what you thought was right.
MOM: You know, it's funny. When your kids are young you're expected to lie to them. You lie and say Santa exists. You lie and say there's a tooth fairy. You tell them nobody they know is ever going to die. You replace goldfish when they go bellyup and say it's the same one they had before they went to school that day. You lie and say all strangers are dangerous. You lie and say family will never hurt you. And this makes you a good parent. But then the day comes, and nobody tells you what day it is, but it comes, when you're expected to confess to all those lies. You're supposed to finally speak the truth and accept the fact that your kids are going to hate you for every lie you ever told them. It's...it's funny.
I went over to the chair where she sat and knelt down in front of her.
ME: Mom, I love you to death. You're the rockstar of my life. I could never hate you.
And that happened to be one of the most honest statements I'd ever made.
