Saturday, October 27, 2007

Thou Shalt Not Lie

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.

Saturday, October 20, 2007

Thou Shalt Grant Freebies

I decided to hand out freebies.

This decision came after lunching with Dylan. The reason for the lunch was to discuss Nick's disappearance. Apparently Dylan knew something, but was only willing to share it in person. So, after some clam chowder and a grilled chicken salad, we got down to business.

Business being an admission.

DYLAN: Nick and I were sleeping together.
ME: What?

This was shocking on two levels. One, I was friends with Dylan and Nick and had no inclination that they would wind up in bed together (although with gay men, you never know). Secondly, Nick had been dating someone before he left.

ME: What about Juan?
DYLAN: Kevin, get real. Nick hated Juan. He only stayed with him because he didn't have the balls to break up with him.
ME: That doesn't sound like Nick.
DYLAN: Yeah, well, maybe you didn't know him as well as you think you did.
ME: Clearly. I would never have pegged him as a cheater.

Dylan shot me a look.

ME: That's what it was, Dylan. It was cheating. I can't believe--
DYLAN: Can't believe what? That Nick didn't tell you he and I were sleeping together? After the response you had just now can you blame him?
ME: So I'm supposed to say what? Good for you, Nick. Stay with someone you don't love and just fool around on the side.
DYLAN: It wasn't just about sex, you know. Nick and I really cared for each other.
ME: Is that why he kept you a secret?
DYLAN: It was only a secret from you, Kevin.
ME: Gee, is that why I wasn't invited to the adultery party?

I'll admit that I was in violation of my non-judging policy, but c'mon, how could you just take all this in stride?

DYLAN: You know, it's really funny. You want to know where Nick is, but the truth is, if the reason he left had anything to do with this or something that you wouldn't approve of, why would he tell you? You never let anyone get away with anything, Kevin. You always make everyone feel like they're such an awful person whenever they make any kind of mistake.

Was that true?

DYLAN: Look, if you think that Nick and I felt great about what we were doing, you're wrong. And he would have broken up with Juan, but...

He hesitated.

ME: But what?
DYLAN: You don't know what Juan was like, Kevin. Nick told me stories. He's... He's scary, Kev.
ME: Dylan, he's a 120lb drink. (Drink: Drunken Twink.)
DYLAN: I know that, but he threatened Nick a bunch of times.
ME: Threatened him how?
DYLAN: Saying if he ever left him Juan would have Dylan taken care of.
ME: By who? The gay mafia? He was going to have him dressed in something off-season and dumped in a Banana Republic?
DYLAN: I'm being serious. This whole Nick vanishing thing is really freaking me out. He wouldn't have just left without telling me.
ME: So you're thinking homo-cide?
DYLAN: I'm thinking that maybe something happened and he felt like he had to leave in a hurry and not leave any clues to where he was headed. Juan's into some messed up stuff.
ME: You mean he likes Georgia Rule?
DYLAN: I mean drugs.
ME: Oh--
DYLAN: Plus he's got a temper.
ME: So Nick--
DYLAN: I don't know, Kev. I just have a bad feeling.

This was starting to seem more serious than I originally thought.

It also got me thinking. Would Nick really not come to me if he were in trouble just because he was afraid I would think less of him for it? How many of my other friends feel the same way? Would they turn to me in a time of need?

I had to find a way to let people know it would be okay to let me know things. That I wouldn't get upset or tsk tsk them. Even though everyone knows that I'm following new rules, I haven't made any kind of retroactive policy so that if there's something people started keeping from me before I started the blog, they'd know they could tell me now and I wouldn't be mad.

That's when I got my idea.

I would give everyone a freebie. They could tell me whatever it is that they've been hiding from me and I would simply listen and then tell them it was no big deal.

Genius, right?

ADAM: That's the dumbest idea I've ever heard.

Okay, maybe "genius" was too strong a word...

ME: Why isn't it a good idea?
ADAM: Because you're never going to be able to follow through with that. You can't say you won't get mad about something if you don't even know what it is.
ME: Yes, I can. I can control my emotions, Adam.
ADAM: Fine, so can I use my freebie now?
ME: You don't want to wait until a time when--
ADAM: No, I have a good one now.
ME: Um...okay. Go ahead.
ADAM: And you're not going to get mad?
ME: No.
ADAM: You sure?
ME: Adam--
ADAM: Remember that play you were in that I went to go see? The one in Woonsocket?
ME: Yeah.
ADAM: I never saw it.
ME: Yes, you did. I hung out with you after the show.
ADAM: I went to a movie and then showed up at ten thirty when I knew the show would be done.
ME: Are you kidding?
ADAM: Nope.
ME: Oh.
ADAM: I didn't really want to see the show. It looked really bad.
ME: It was bad, but I was--Uh...never mind. Okay. That's your freebie.
ADAM: Wow, I feel a lot better now.
ME: Great. That's the goal. For you to feel better--

--You mean little oompah loompah.

ME: --About talking to me.
ADAM: Oh, so can I tell you? I was talking to a hot guy the other night at the club and this old looking troll interrupts me and starts hitting on him! The gaul!

Now that I had undergone one freebie, I was sure it would only get easier, because let's face it, I'm that naive.

That morning at breakfast, I explained my new policy to my family, even though I was fairly certain there wouldn't be anything anyone would actually need to confess.

MOM: I used to purposefully avoid giving you phone messages.
ME: What?
MOM: When you were in high school. I didn't always give you messages.
ME: Why not?
MOM: It's complicated.

We were all sitting around the dining room table. Rory was eating his usual breakfast of cold pizza and cheesy bread. Danny was having oatmeal. Roger was eating a bagel, and my Mom was scooping scrambled eggs onto my plate as she admitted to her deception.

ME: Try explaining.
MOM: Well, if it was a message from a boy who sounded a little...you know...
ME: Southern? Welsh? Sounded what?
MOM: Uh, like you...Then I wouldn't give you the message.
ME: And the point of that was?
MOM: I guess it was my way of delaying your...lifestyle.
RORY: She was trying to c**kblock you.
MOM: Rory!
RORY: What? It's a technical term.
DANNY: I keep telling all of you that an exorcism would make a world of difference in him.

This was insane. My own mother. And the worst part is, I didn't even know any gay people in high school!

ME: Who exactly did you stop giving me messages from?
MOM: Trevor.
ME: Mom, Trevor's not gay.
MOM: He seemed the closest thing to one.
ME: This is nuts.
RORY: Trevor's not gay?
ME: You don't even know Trevor.
RORY: He's a redhead, right? All redheads are gay.
ME: That makes no sense.
DANNY: Leave him alone. It's the schizophrenia talking.
ME: And the fact that you kept this secret all these--

Roger cleared his throat.

ROGER: Kevin, you promised you wouldn't get upset. Wasn't that the point of this whole freebie thing? So that you could give people a waiver on things they might be feeling guilty about but were afraid to tell you?

Leave it to Roger to ruin my fury.

ME: Thank you, Roger. You're right. I shouldn't be upset. I should be grateful. Mom, I'm grateful to you for being honest with me.
MOM: Your welcome. And we only get one of those freebies, right?
ME: Why? Why would you need another?

My Mom's eyes got wide. The phone rang.

MOM: I'll get it.

I'll get you next time, Mother. Next time.

RORY: Hey Kev, can I use mine?
ME: You did something you didn't tell me about?
RORY: Danny and I did it.
DANNY: Rory, be quiet.
ME: Danny, you were in on this?
RORY: So was Dad.
ME: Roger?!
ROGER: Rory, eat your pizza before it gets cold...er.
ME: No, I want to hear this.
DANNY: I don't need it as a freebie. I already confessed to it.
ME: To who?
DANNY: God.
ME: That doesn't count. Spill it, Rory.
RORY: The three of us were playing football downstairs--
ME: Oh no--
RORY: And we were the ones who broke your Lord Skeletor collectible figurine.
ME: That thing was worth a fortune!
ROGER: Kevin, it was a giant He-Man action figure.
ME: A nostalgiac fortune!
RORY: You can't get upset. Remember?
ME: Fine, but I never said anything about karma. If I were the three of you, I'd watch out for my rosary beads, briefcase, and...and...Rory, I doubt you own anything of value but one day you will and then watch out!

I got up to go outside when I noticed the Greek from the Model House sitting on the roof drinking from a bottle.

ME: Is he drinking?
RORY: Yup.
ME: It's not even noon yet.
DANNY: He's been doing that lately. We think he's an alcoholic.
ME: And he's going up on the roof to hide his addiction?
RORY: No, he drinks in front of everyone else in the house. I think he's just enjoying the weather.
ME: And nobody says anything to him? Blondie, Punky, Odd Guy--
ROGER: They must be turning the other cheek.

And there it was. My proof across the street. The evidence proving how important it is to let your friends and family know they can tell you anything.

Just then Mom came out of the kitchen.

MOM: Kev, Grandma's on the phone. She says she took a movie out of your room last year to see what it was about and then forgot to give it back.
ME: What?
MOM: But she says it wasn't really appropriate for you to be watching anyway.
ME: That's what happened to Latter Days!

Even though it seemed like the freebie policy was causing me some strife, I tried to look at the positive side of things. I now know why I always perceived Trevor to be bad at calling people back in high school. The cat was no longer going to get blamed for the shattered Skeletor. And I was now going to get my favorite gay tragedy involving Mormons (best sex scene ever) back. So the day wasn't turning out so badly after all.

Plus, people were now being honest with me.

BETH: I slept with Carlos.
ME: What?
BETH: That'll be my freebie.
ME: I thought Carlos was gay?
BETH: So did I, but apparently he's bisexual.
ME: Beth, what do we say about bisexuals?
BOTH OF US: Bi now, gay later.
BETH: I didn't mean for it to happen.
ME: When did it happen?
BETH: When I first got hired. I think that's always why he's so catty to me. Because I never returned his calls.
ME: Because you realized it was a mistake to sleep with your bisexual-but-more-likely-gay boss?
BETH: That and I hate his voicemail--it's this old Liza Minelli song that--
ME: Gotcha. So there's your freebie.
BETH: Wow, I'm glad I can finally talk to you about this.
ME: That's the point, Beth.
BETH: You should have seen him in bed. I mean, granted we were both drunk, and I think he might have put on Rufus Wainwright, but the way he--
ME: Got to go, I'm at work. Call you later.

Hey, I said I wasn't going to judge--that includes proceeding over the trial.

When I arrived at work, I explained to the ladies my new policy. I practically had to hose them down to keep them from getting too excited about telling me their secrets.

ME: Let's go in order. Martha?
MARTHA: When I wouldn't let you have that day off because I had a doctor's appointment, I really just sat in my living room all day and took in a Matlock marathon.
ME: Great. I'm calling my cousin later so you can explain to her why I missed her wedding. Daisy?
DAISY: I drink your chocolate milk when you bring it in.

Good to know my confrontation with Edie the 74-year-old library aide was merited.

ME: And Millie?
MILLIE: The first year you were hired I encouraged Martha to fire you because I thought you were a floozy.
ME: And now you don't feel that way anymore?
MILLIE: No, now I've just learned to be entertained by it.

Before I had time to absolve them of their apparently heart-wrenching guilt, Library Boy popped up at the desk with books on slam poetry.

LIBRARY BOY: Hey, how's it going?
ME: Good thanks. I didn't know you were into slamming.
LIBRARY BOY: Yeah, it's kind of my thing.
ME: Oh, cool. My friend Trevor is actually amazing at it.
LIBRARY BOY: I've seen Trevor before! Why doesn't he do more poems about being gay?
ME: Because he's not.
LIBRARY BOY: Oh...Awkward.
ME: No, it's fine. Some people have thought that in the past. He's also not bad at returning messages, just so you know.
LIBRARY BOY: Glad I found that out. You should come see me perform sometime.

I can't. I would rush the stage and make sweet love to you on what I imagine would be a very non-sterile stage.

ME: I'd love to.

This was awesome. I'd always dreamed of meeting a really hot poet at the library and becoming his life partner after seeing him perform. I couldn't wait to tell someone about it.

JOEY: So you're going to his show?
ME: Yes, and I'm going to need back-up. A united front.
JOEY: I'm in.
ME: Great.
JOEY: Oh, and Adam told me about the freebies...
ME: Yeah, I was going to mention that. If you--
JOEY: I got one.
ME: You know, I keep waiting for someone to say they don't have anything to confess to me.
JOEY: It doesn't really involve you, but it is something I've been wanting to tell you, but couldn't.
ME: Joey, what is it?
JOEY: Kevin, my....my glasses are fake.
ME: Huh?
JOEY: The glasses I wear aren't real. I only wear them because I like how they look.
ME: So...you don't need them.
JOEY: In a way I do. I need them to fulfill my stylistic potential.
ME: But for seeing--
JOEY: No, not at all. The glass in them is clear.

I laughed for about a minute.

ME: And you didn't tell me about this because--
JOEY: I didn't want you to laugh at me.
ME: Oh...sorry.

The one person I knew wouldn't have any confessions for me was Dad. Everything bad he's ever done to me has been well-documented. He may not have been Father-of-the-Year, but he was always very honest about his screw-ups.

DAD: Sorry about this weekend, J.R. The Pats are on, and I need to focus all my energy on them right now. I hope this teaches you something about priorities.

DAD: If I buy you twelve Goosebumps books, will you agree to stay with your Grandma tonight and tell your Mom you were with me instead. Daddy's got a big date with your old third grade teacher.

DAD: It's your birthday?

All of us were still getting used to having dinner as a family, and by "all of us," I mean myself, my Dad, my stepmom Stacey, my little sister Annie, my older brother Harry, and the mother of his child Deana. Normally Harry and Dad weren't used to spending quality time together, so things were quieter than usual as they tried to converse.

DAD: You going back to school?
HARRY: No.
DAD: You getting a better job?
HARRY: No.
STACEY: Do you like the rigatoni?
HARRY: It's great.

I decided to jump in and let everyone about the freebies.

HARRY: Oh man, that's awesome.
ME: Thanks Harry. I appreciate that you--
HARRY: Deana, we can use what we talked about before as our freebie.
DEANA: Harry, sweetie, maybe we should--
ME: What were you talking about before?
ANNIE: Brother, you're going to give out frisbies?
ME: No, freebies, Annie.
STACEY: J.R.'s practicing forgiveness, honey.
HARRY: See? Forgiveness.
DEANA: Harry, please--he'll get mad.
DAD: Nobody's getting mad. Let's just eat our rigatoni.
ME: I won't get mad.
DAD: I know you. Whatever Harry has to say is going to make you mad.
ME: Then you really don't know me, because when I say I'm giving someone a freebie, I mean it. Now, Harry, what do you want to say?
HARRY: We picked someone else to be the baby's godfather.

Silence.

ME: One second.

I went into the bathroom and screamed at the top of my lungs, then came back out, and sat down at the table.

ME: May I ask why?
HARRY: Well, Kev, it's a religious thing. You're not all that religious, and Deana's friend Rocco is.
ME: Rocco? My nephew's godson is going to be someone named Rocco?
DEANA: He's a great guy.
ME: And he's your friend?
DEANA: Yeah, we used to work at Express Men's together.
ME: Wait a second, is he gay?
DAD: Oh Jesus...
DEANA: Well, yeah. He's like...my Will.

Gag me. Gag me. Gag me.

ME: So I can't be the godfather because I'm not religious enough, but Rocco can?
HARRY: You can be gay and be religious. You're just not.
DAD: Look, neither one of them is going to be the godfather. I'm going to be the godfather.
STACEY: Kev, you can't. You're his grandfather.
DAD: Well, it's that or the kid's spiritual guide is going to be guiding him to a Fruit Festival.

This caused an uproar. Deana was upset over Dad calling Rocco a fruit. I was upset about that and Rocco. Harry was upset that Dad was even butting in, and Stacey was upset because the rigatoni dinner was ruined. The only one laughing was Annie (We've taught her to laugh at yelling, since it's the only way to make sure she's not scarred for life by our family dynamics).

CARLY: I keep telling you to distance yourself from your family. All great celebrities do it.
ME: I've thought about it, but what if I ever need a blood transfusion?
CARLY: Never mind. Have you talked to Derek recently?

Derek is a friend of Carly's who I agreed to go out on a date with--unfortunately the date got too serious, too fast, and I wound up giving him a freebie of his own.

CARLY: You should call him. He says he wants to hang out again.
ME: Then why isn't he calling me?
CARLY: Kevin, Derek is a catch. Catches don't call. They're chased.
ME: Yeah, well I'm not chasing anybody.
CARLY: I'm not saying you wouldn't catch him. You already caught him.
ME: Can we stop using this metaphor? It sounds like we're talking about gnono.
CARLY: I say you give him a real chance. It's not his fault you jumped his bones.
ME: I did not--
CARLY: Oh, and by the way, I put out the word about the kissing contest on facebook.

The Kissing Contest was Carly's idea to spice up the blog. It involves me kissing 100 guys. I've already kissed two, and I was determined not to kiss anymore...Well, none for the purpose of the contest anyway.

ME: Carly, how many times have I--
CARLY: Make that my freebie. Love ya lots. Gotta go. Manicure beckons.

Despite the fact that I disagree with Carly on almost everything when it comes to relationships, I did think she might be onto something in terms of Derek. Maybe we did deserve a real shot. So I called him and set up a date at a restaurant. I figured that would be safe since they don't use tablecloths, so there wouldn't be so much as a game of footsie as far as affection was concerned.

DEREK: So you finally came around, huh?
ME: Excuse me?
DEREK: I knew you'd break down and call.
ME: Derek, I wouldn't have called, but Carly told me how you wanted me to chase you.
DEREK: What?
ME: You know, you...um...

From the look on his face, it was clear.

ME: You never said any of that, huh?
DEREK: Nope.
ME: I'm going to kill her. Freebies be damned.
DEREK: No, but, I'm glad you called. I really thought you were sweet, and very cute. I'd like to get to know you better.
ME: I'm glad. I feel the same way.
DEREK: So why don't we go back to my place, put on a movie, and talk, huh?
ME: I'm afraid that might lead to more than talking.
DEREK: Isn't that the point?
ME: What?
DEREK: Kevin, I think the best way to get to know someone is to explore them sexually and then learn the rest as you go along.
ME: Is this Candid Camera? Are you somehow related to Art Linklater?
DEREK: Look, if two people click sexually the rest is all gravy.
ME: It is not! It is most certainly not gravy. Ugh, I can't believe I did this. I gave another chance to a sexmaniac!
DEREK: Do you like that I'm a sex maniac?
ME: Excuse me?
DEREK: What are you into?
ME: I'm into getting the check and getting the hell out of here.
DEREK: I like hairy legs--like yours.
ME: And we're done!

I knew it was a good idea to schedule the dinner early in the night. Since it turned out to be a bust, I had plenty of time to go home and change before Library Boy's poetry reading.

UNCLE WILL: Forget Library Boy. You just bailed on the Marco Polo of sex!
JEFF: He sounds like a manwhore, Kevin. Avoid him.
ME: Thank you, Jeff.
UNCLE WILL: He sounds like me, Jeffrey. I recall having a very frank sexual conversation with you when we first met.
JEFF: I knew you were all talk.
UNCLE WILL: Is that why you fooled around with me in the bathroom that night?
ME: Okay! Me! Here! On the line!
UNCLE WILL: By the way, we know you've been hearing admissions lately.
ME: God help us.
JEFF: Kevin, we feel awful.
ME: Here it comes.
UNCLE WILL: The last time you stayed with us...
JEFF: The boy we fixed you up with--
ME: The British guy?
UNCLE WILL: The gigolo.
ME: No, the British guy.
JEFF: Kevin, he was a gigolo.
ME: Uh...what?
JEFF: We didn't know.
UNCLE WILL: We found out later that he--
JEFF: He accepts money...for things.
UNCLE WILL: Dirty things.
ME: Are you kidding me? I was on a date with a gigolo? A male prostitute? A...a...
JEFF: Street walking homo-hussie?

Silence.

JEFF: Just trying to help.
UNCLE WILL: At least you didn't sleep with him.
ME: F**k me.
UNCLE WILL: Never mind.

That night it took all I had not to break my resolution and suck back coffee like there was no tomorrow. Adam, Joey, and Beth were all there as my united front. Library Boy was first up on the roster, which was good since I had promised the U.F. that they wouldn't have to stay past 9pm.

ADAM: It's bad enough I missed Ugly Betty for this.
JOEY: Is anyone going to read Shel Silverstein?
BETH: Oh God, Carlos is sending me picture messages again.
ME: Of what?
BETH: It's either his elbow or--
ADAM, JOEY, ME: Jesus!/That was wrong./Eww...
BETH: That was accompanied by a text message where he reminds me to pick up his drycleaning.
ME: It's good you're able to achieve such a balance in your life, Beth.

Then, we heard hooting and clapping, and I realized it was because Library Boy was ascending the stage.

ME: It's him! It's him!
BETH: Oh my God, you're a groupie.
JOEY: When do they slam him?
ADAM: Joey, shouldn't you be wearing your glasses?
JOEY: No, it's okay. I'm...near-sighted.
ADAM: But we're--
ME: Let it go, Adam.

Library Boy did his poem, and...it was bad. Really bad. He's a really bad poet. We were all cringing right up until the last moment.

ADAM: Are you going to tell him how awful he was?
ME: No, I'm going to...
JOEY: What? You can't lie. You're all about honesty now, remember?
ME: Fine, then that leaves one option.
BETH: Run out the back door before he sees you.
ME: Everybody cover me.

On my way home, I got a phone call from an unmarked number. I hit Reject. Immediately I got another call; this time from Deana.

ME: Hey D.
DEANA: Hey JR.
ME: Did you just call me from an blocked number?
DEANA: No, why?
ME: Never mind. Probably just a wrong number.
DEANA: JR, I wanted to ask if you'd be the baby's godfather.
ME: But your friend Rocco--
DEANA: The only reason I asked Rocco is because... Well, I don't really have a family. It was just me and my Mom for the longest time and now we don't even talk anymore. Rocco's really all I have. It feels like Harry's giving the baby this great family, and I can't do that. So I just wanted to be able to offer something. It really didn't have anything to do with you being religious. I don't even think Rocco knows the people in the Holy Trinity.
ME: Snap, Crackle, and Pop?
DEANA: Right. I told Harry to use that as an excuse, becasue I didn't want you hating me.
ME: Deana, I could never hate you. And I think your reasoning makes perfect sense. But just know that you're going to be giving this baby so much; you don't have to worry about the family part, because you're a part of the family now, too. We're all in this together. And you know what? I think Rocco should be the godfather. I mean, I'm going to be the gay uncle, that's good enough.
DEANA: JR--
ME: I'm serious.
DEANA: I appreciate it. It's a lovely gesture.
ME: Well, that'll your be your freebie, I guess--or the baby's, depending on how you look at it.

When I got home, Greek was sitting out on the roof again, except this time Blondie was with him. Rory and Danny were on the couch watching the whole thing unfold.

DANNY: I think she finally got up the nerve to talk to him about his problem.
ME: How's it going?
RORY: So far so good.
ME: It takes a lot of guts to do what she's doing right now.
RORY: Whoa! I'll say.

It was then that I realized Blondie and the Greek were kissing.

DANNY: They're sharing a tender embrace. There's nothing wrong with--Oh no!

They were now on top of each other. Blondie was ripping his shirt off.

ME: Go to bed, you two.
RORY: Screw that! This is better than the staticy channel we get for free when Danny's in his closet.
DANNY: Is that why you always beg me to stand in there for an hour?

The Greek was kissing Blondie's stomach, her chest, her--

MOM: What are you boys doing up?

We all turned around quickly.

RORY: Science project.
ME: I was helping.
DANNY: Me, too.
MOM: What's the project on?
RORY, DANNY, ME: Biology/Reproduction/Giant whales.

It wasn't until Mom closed the curtains and sent us all away that I realized the blocked number had left me a message. As soon as I heard the voice I knew I was in trouble.

VOICEMAIL: Hello Kevin, this is Juan. Listen to me very carefully. Stop bugging people about Nick. Enough is enough. If you don't back off, I'm going to back you off myself. Do you understand me?

Oh, I understood. I understood that I had let Nick down. He was dating a psychopath and couldn't tell me. Well, maybe it was never going to be exactly easy to tell me or anyone the truth, but at least I knew that from this point on, there weren't going to be any secrets.

Haha...there's that naivete again.

Saturday, October 13, 2007

Thou Shalt Run For Your Life

On Monday, I started to run.

I got up early--after setting three different alarms and paying my brother Danny five bucks to throw a glass of water on me if I wasn't awake by 8am--and I ran.

Ten blocks up, ten blocks across, then back again.

Lately, I've been thinking it would be good for me to incorporate a little exercise into my everyday life. And even though I'm so scrawny the last thing I look like I need is cardio, running is something everyone can do without a Bowflex.

(I actually own a Bowflex, but I use it as an ironing board.)

After I finished the run, I expected to feel exhilarated. Instead, I felt...blah.

ADAM: What do you mean 'blah'?
ME: I felt...upset.
ADAM: About how out of shape you are?
ME: No--Well, that, but also...I don't know. I just didn't feel good about it.
ADAM: So forget about it. Go to the gym instead. Thursdays are unofficially 'Gay Day' at the one I go to. Major treadmill hotties.
ME: Tempting as that sounds, I'd like to be able to have the kind of spiritual experience other runners talk about.
ADAM: Then grow up in a war-torn African country and learn to run as a means of escaping the tyranny; other than that, you're just going to feel sweaty.
ME: You know, a running buddy might help. Maybe--
ADAM: I don't run.
ME: But--
ADAM: Not if a man with a knife was chasing me and singing arias from Naughty Marietta.

Before walking in my house, I looked across the street to see what was going on at the Model House. It was kind of hard to tell since the view of the living room was skewed from my front door. I wanted to know if there had been any developments in the Blondie/Punky cheating scandal, or if Odd Guy had said anything to The Greek or Linda Cardellini about it.

From what I could tell, Odd Guy wasn't even home. Then I glanced up at the roof and saw him with his legs dangling over the edge.

Just as I was about to scream "Don't do it! You have so much to live for! I'm not sure what, but even so," Rory came running out the front door nearly knocking me down. I forgot that he was heading to school--partially because he avoids going at all costs.

RORY: Sorry Kev, I didn't know you were out. Ha ha, that's funny actually.
ME: I was just about to stop Odd Guy from taking the plunge.
RORY: Don't worry. He spends a lot of time up there. I think he's trying to figure out whether or not he should tell his friends that his other friends are cheating on them.
ME: Poor Odd Guy.
RORY: It must be rough living in that house.
ME: Yeah, all that tension. Discomfort...

Just then my mother screamed from inside--

MOM: Rory, I told you to do the dishes before you left!
RORY: Do you want me to educate myself or do you want me to scrub dishes like an illegal immigrant? Anyway Kev, think of it this way, he gets the opportunity to see beautiful girls walking around in their pajamas every day. His life can't be that bad.

With that, he headed to the bus stop.

Danny was sitting at the kitchen table eating breakfast. Mom was doing the dishes Rory was supposed to have done, and Roger was reading the newspaper in the living room.

ROGER: How was your run, Kev?
ME: Awful. I think it sucked something out of my soul.
ROGER: That's nice.

Roger is pretty much oblivious when he's reading the newspaper, even though he only likes articles that deal with pumpkin growing contests and dogs that call 9-1-1 to save their elderly owners.

MOM: You shouldn't be running. You have a heart condition.
ME: I do not have a heart condition. It's a prolapsed artery.

Bascially it means that I have to take medicine before going to the dentist--seriously, that's all it means. But ever since being diagnosed with it, my mother has been convinced that stress, eating poorly, or overexerting myself is going to send me into cardiac arrest.

MOM: Sit down and catch your breath.
ME: I'm not even breathing heavily.
MOM: Danny, get your brother a chair.
ME: I'm standing next to a chair!
DANNY: I need to start eating breakfast in my room.

I sat down and grabbed a piece of bacon. Maybe Danny would be the right person to advise me on why I was feeling so down after my run.

ME: Danny, is it normal that I'm sort of...morose right now?
DANNY: Kevin, what you're doing is a very solitary thing. You're running by yourself with nothing but your thoughts. That can be very upsetting if there are emotional things you're dealing with right now. Why don't you pray on it?
ME: I'd rather not, but I see what you're getting at.

Nick's disappearance--Harry's Baby--The Decline in Quality of Desperate Housewives...

ME: You're right. I probably need to learn to zone out while I run.
DANNY: Or zone in.

Before I could untangle that little gem, we received a pop-in visit from my grandmother. She was holding at least three pineapples in her arms.

GRANDMOTHER: I brought fruit!
DANNY: His name is Kevin, Grandma.
MOM: Danny, that wasn't nice. Funny, but not nice.
ME: Grandma, pineapples aren't even in season.
GRANDMOTHER: Don't worry about it. Just take one.

This is common with my grandmother. She'll show up with a trunk full of pineapples, Kleenex, VCR's, a Huffy bike--you just never know.

GRANDMOTHER: I have eighteen jars of Heinz tomato sauce in the car.
MOM: Ma, we don't need tomato sauce.
GRANDMOTHER: Maybe if you cooked dinner once in awhile--
MOM: You know, these pop-ins are getting a little--
ME: Grandma, you walk, right?

I thought this would be the perfect way to kill two birds with one stone. Have an activity my grandmother and I could do together (Bingo didn't pan out) and get some exercise without going crazy.

GRANDMOTHER: Every day.
ME: Would you mind if I joined you? We could chat about things--like Dancing with the Stars and why young people are spoiled.

I was trying to make it sound as appealing as possible to her.

GRANDMOTHER: Honey, I'd love to have you join me, but we wouldn't do much talking. I listen to Earth, Wind, and Fire while I walk.

Well, as much as I love "September" and "Let's Groove Tonight," I figured it would just end up defeating the purpose.

After I breakfast I headed to the library. On my way to work, Beth called, and I filled her in on my predicament.

BETH: Do what I do--bike. I just put a new ashtray on my handlebars.
ME: I don't have a bike.
BETH: What are you a communist?
ME: That doesn't even make any sense.
BETH: Sorry, Carlos has been riding me all day.
ME: I didn't know he was interested in that.
BETH: Not funny.

Beth's boss Flamboyant Carlos had been getting on her nerves for awhile. She had threatened quitting, but then remembered that she needed money in order to live. (Studies have shown that 90% of Americans stay in jobs they don't like for that exact same reason.)

Once Carlos realized that Beth realized she couldn't quit, his antics only got worse.

BETH: As we speak, I'm cutting up a meatball sub into five pieces, because Carlos likes to eat it in sections so that he doesn't feel like a pig.
ME: Are you aware that what you're doing may be one of the most demeaning things on earth next to snapping photos for US Weekly?
BETH: I'm aware! That's why I try not to think about it. If I think about it, I'll get sick to my stomach and heave all over the little a**hole's meatballs, so I just don't think about it.
ME: That might be my problem with running. My brother says I have trouble being alone with my thoughts.
BETH: See, it's the exact opposite for me. I love my thoughts. Mostly because they involve putting this cigarette out in Carlos' Dolce cookie bag.
ME: Carlos has a--No, you know what? I don't need to know.

When I arrived at work I could barely find a parking spot. I had forgotten that it's Fall Fest, which means apple pie eating contests and little children running around with poorly constructed paper masks on their face.

One of them ran up to me and screeched--

LITTLE KID: Guess what I am?
ME: Um...a Wiggle?
LITTLE KID: Ewww--No!
ME: Captain Planet?
LITTLE KID: Who's that?
ME: Never mind, I'm old. Are you Sinead O'Connor?
LITTLE KID: I'm an apple picker!
ME: Apple pickers don't wear masks.
LITTLE KID: Yes, they do!
ME: Why would an apple picker need a mask?
LITTLE KID: To protect himself from fire!

Is there an apple arsonist nobody's telling me about?

Just then I heard a voice call--

VOICE: Richie, get over here.

I looked up to find Library Boy, love of my life, walking towards me.

ME: Hi!
LIBRARY BOY: Hey, how's it going?
ME: Great. Do you know this little...apple picker?
LIBRARY BOY: Yeah, he's my nephew.

He's an uncle! How adorable is that?

LIBRARY BOY'S NEPHEW: Uncle, can apple pickers wear masks?
LIBRARY BOY: Sure. I don't see why not.
LIBRARY BOY'S NEPHEW: (Pointing at me accusingly.) He said they don't!

Oh great.

ME: I was just kidding. Of course apple pickers can wear masks. My Dad's an apple picker actually. He wears masks--and gloves!

Library Boy laughed. He could see I was trying to bail myself out.

LIBRARY BOY: Your Dad sounds like an interesting guy. Like father like son, I guess, huh?

Truly, madly, deeply...

LIBRARY BOY'S NEPHEW: Uncle! You promised!
LIBRARY BOY: I told him I'd let him get his face painted.
ME: How is he going to get his face painted while he's wearing the mask?

Oh my God, I am such a moron! Luckily, Library Boy just smiled.

LIBRARY BOY: That's a paradox we'll have to deal with when the time comes, I guess. See you later.
ME: Yeah...nice seeing you.

I went inside feeling like a tool. All the Girls were sitting at the Circ desk eating apple pie.

ME: Weren't those for the pie-eating contest?
MARTHA: They already had the contest. These are the left-overs.
ME: Don't kids stick their faces in the pies when they eat them?
MARTHA: What do I care about germs? I'm going to be dead soon.
ME: Speaking of being dead, how do you all feel about exercising? Why don't we start a walking group?
DAISY: I don't need to exercise. I have a naturally slim figure.
MARTHA: Doing a lot of drugs in your youth will help you with that. She's practically embalmed already.
MILLIE: I do yoga.
ME: You do?
MILLIE: I go with my daughter. It's fun. Plus, the instructor looks just like Robert Redford.

I couldn't imagine Robert Redford doing yoga. Not even Barefoot in the Park Robert Redford.

ME: So nobody wants to go walking with me?
MARTHA: I'll go.
ME: Really, Martha?
MARTHA: Sure. Where are we walking to? The market? I have some things I need to pick up anyway.
MILLIE: That reminds me, Martha, when are we pushing you into a very late retirement?

The library is right next to a park. So I decided to go for another walk on my lunch break. The park is always filled with people, so I figured it would be a great place to kill my feelings of isolation.

No dice.

The weather was beautiful. There were plenty of people. But as soon as I settled into a nice pace thoughts started rushing at me.

HARRY: You're going to be an uncle--
NICK: I just need some time...
UNCLE WILL: We're thinking of adopting.
LIBRARY BOY: Nice seeing you again--
MOM: What are you doing all this for?
ODD GUY: I'm so...odd.

And before I knew it I had walked back to the library in a rather upset state. I didn't even notice when some little kid walked into me with his newly painted face and got most of his visage over my shirt.

But what was I going to do? How do you stop thinking about things that are stressing you out and just relax? That night I could barely sleep. Once again I was alone with my thoughts. The ceiling seemed to be filled with images of things that needed to be taken care of, and eventually I gave up sleep altogether and settled for a late night phone call.

JOEY: Hello?
ME: Sorry Joey, did I wake you up?
JOEY: No...Well, yes...That's okay though. What's up?
ME: I'm worried I'm losing my mind.
JOEY: This is Kevin, right?
ME: Yeah.
JOEY: Kevin Broccoli?
ME: Joey, yes!
JOEY: Ooohhh...it's late.
ME: I'm aware. Are you sure you can you talk?
JOEY: Sure. What do you want to talk about?
ME: The depths of isolation.
JOEY: Is that a musical I don't know about?
ME: Yes, it's a Jason Robert Brown piece, actually.
JOEY: Really?
ME: No. Go back to sleep, Joe. I'll call you tomorrow.
JOEY: Okay. Night Poppy.
ME: Who?
JOEY: Hey hey, shiksa goddess...
ME: Never mind.

Since I still couldn't sleep I decided to go online and see if there was any Nick news. I had put the word out that I was interested in finding out why Nick disappeared so suddenly. After about five minutes, I got an instant message from my buddy Dylan.

DYLAN: Hey Kev, I heard you've been asking about Nick.
ME: Yeah. I just can't understand why he left the way he did.
DYLAN: I've been meaning to ask you if we could get together sometime.
ME: Why? Do you know something?
DYLAN: I'd rather talk to you about it in person. It's kind of private.
ME: Is everything okay? I ran into Juan at the club and he seemed to be kind of dismissive about the whole thing.
DYLAN: Let's just say things aren't what they seem to be at all.
ME: Okay, should I cue ominious music now or wait?
DYLAN: I'll be in touch, okay?

And he signed off.

...WHAT?!? What was that? When did my life become The Maltese Falcon?

So much for sleep.

The next day I had dinner at my Dad's house. I thought I'd try getting him to come running with me. My Dad's notoriously bad when it comes to taking care of himself, and I couldn't think of anything better than getting him back into shape.

DAD: Pass me the gravy.
ME: Dad, I've been running lately and I thought it would be fun if--
DAD: J.R., I don't need to go running. Your father's in great shape.

I should probably mention that since my father is Kevin Broccoli Sr., I'm referred to as J.R. when I'm at his house. I don't mind it, really. After all, it is the name of the most amazing soap opera villain in history.

ME: Oh really? Is that why you were in the hospital six months ago barely breathing?
STACEY: Kev!
ME: Sorry. I'm not trying to upset anyone. I just think he needs to take care of himself a little better.

Actually I was being selfish. I wanted Dad to come along to break the quiet of my mind, but if he happened to get healthier because of it, where was the harm in that? Dad, Stacey, my little sister Annie and I were all sitting down for family dinner when I heard the downstairs door open.

DAD: Who's that?
VOICE: Hello?
STACEY: Oh, I invited Deana and Harry over for dinner.
DAD and ME: What?

Harry appeared in the dining room with Deana looking all smiles, while Dad and I just gaped. Harry was not commonplace at family dinners at Dad's house. Stacey was grinning. Clearly she thought this was a fantastic idea.

I knew better.

DAD: Well, if it isn't the unwed parents.
ME: Oh God...
ANNIE: Harry!
HARRY: Hey, there's the little Auntie!
DAD: Jesus Christ!
STACEY: Kev, watch your mouth!
DAD: They made an 8-year-old an aunt, Stacey.
DEANA: I thought you said J.R. wasn't going to tell him?
ME: I didn't tell him. He guessed. I.Q. over here asked for baby clothes.
HARRY: Yeah, so the secret's out. Oh well. Who cares?
DAD: You should care! You should care about the fact that you can't afford a baby!

Deana looked upset at this suggestion, and Annie was starting to look around wondering why voices were being raised.

ME: Look, why don't we just try and enjoy our dinner?
DAD: Who's going to be taking care of this kid anyway?

Clearly, Dad didn't want to change horses in mid-stream. Stacey swooped in for the save.

STACEY: Annie, why don't you show Deana your new table set, huh?
ANNIE: Daddy's going to yell?
STACEY: Yes, Daddy's going to yell, and then J.R. might yell, and then Harry might yell, and then Mommy will yell at all of them, and pretty soon everybody will be yelling and when we're done you can come back and we'll eat dinner, okay?
ANNIE: Okay.
STACEY: You don't mind Deana?
DEANA: Not at all. Yelling makes me nervous.
STACEY: That'll all change once you have kids, honey. Trust me.

Once Deana and Annie were gone, Stacey looked at all of us with utter disappointment.

STACEY: All right, have it out.
DAD: Why didn't you tell me?
HARRY: Because it's none of your business.
DAD: I'm your father.
HARRY: Starting when?
ME: Low blow, Harry.
HARRY: It's true.
ME: It's also true that bad though he may be, you've borrowed money from him--
HARRY: Here we go.
ME: --And you'll be borrowing money from him again, I assume. But that's not the point. The point is, you're going to be a father. Dad's going to be a grandfather. I'm going to be a gay uncle. And we all need to accept that and move on from it.

Quiet.

ME: And Dad's going to come walking with me.
DAD: Absolutely not--on all counts! She's giving up the baby.
HARRY: No chance.
STACEY: Maybe I should just bring dinner down to Annie and Deana since this is leading to a standoff.
DAD: And don't invite people over here without telling me!
STACEY: They're not people; they're family. And I'll do whatever I want so long as it's not 1782!

Stacey stormed out of the room, followed by Harry.

ME: Congratulations, Dad. You cleared the room.
DAD: That's fine by me. I prefer eating alone anyway.

Like father like son...

ME: You prefer doing a lot of stuff alone, huh?
DAD: Lovemaking tends to be a little difficult, but other than that--
ME: Annnnnd I'm not hungry.

On the way home, I stopped off at my old school. They had a track outside. I was determined to conquer this. I would not be someone who couldn't be alone. I would not be that lame guy who clings to people everywhere he goes. Yet as soon as I stepped out of my car, the anxiety hit me, and I ended up driving the rest of the way home instead.

I never used to be like this. I used to go to movies by myself. I used to sit in bookstores for hours reading and having a great time all by myself.

So what happened?

CARLY: You got used to having someone there. It happens.
ME: Terrific. I'm a codependent.
CARLY: Not so fast. I've got the perfect solution to your problem. We're going to get you dating again.
ME: Carly, every solution you have to any problem I mention to you involves me dating again.
CARLY: Because there isn't a problem you getting a little action couldn't solve. By the way, I see you're a kiss down. Ninety-nine to go, huh?
ME: Not a chance.

Carly has a genius idea that involves me kissing one hundred boys and then crowning a winner. I don't have anything against a little competition--after all I am a Bravo reality junkie, but Tim Gunn never has to make out with anybody--although I think we all saw him making eyes at Kayne last season--not that I blame him.

CARLY: Too bad, because I have a new guy who wanted to throw his hat in the ring.
ME: Really? You're playing matchmaker now?
CARLY: God no, who has time for that? I'm just passing along the message that my friend thinks you're cute--I showed him your facebook--
ME: Of course.
CARLY: And I told him what an amazing catch you are, and now he would like to meet you.
ME: Carly, I'm in the midst of a mental collapse. Now's not the time to be dating.
CARLY: He has great pecs, dark brown hair, and a degree in Poly sci.
ME: Give him my number.

Hey, I'm only human.

Derek called the next day. We agreed to meet up later. The funny thing is, when he mentioned how much he likes working out--I worked out something of my own.

ME: How do you feel about going for a run?

We met at the high school near his house. I'll admit Derek was everything Carly said and a little bit more. When I got there he was in cute blue shorts and a sweatshirt.

DEREK: You must be Kevin.
ME: I must be.

I was a little nervous. Not just because Derek was so cute, but because that newly found anxiety was rearing its ugly head again, even though I had finally found a running buddy.

DEREK: You ready to run?
ME: I'm ready.

Once we got going, I let our conversation distract me from my nerves. Derek turned out to be incredibly well-versed in lots of areas, not just politics. He was very well-read and had an undying passion for Fleetwood Mac.

DEREK: I knew all the words to Rumours by the time I was thirteen.
ME: That's awesome. I frequently sing along to 'You Make Lovin' Fun' in my car on the way to work.

We went around the track twice, which caused us both to break a sweat, then Derek asked if I'd like to get something to eat.

ME: Like this? I'm sweaty--and not in a hot way.
DEREK: Did you bring a change of clothes?
ME: Yeah. I have my work clothes in my car.
DEREK: So you can come use my shower. I live a couple of minutes away.
ME: Okay. Great.

So, a few minutes later, I was pulling into Derek's driveway. He owned a decent-sized house, showing off that in addition to being handsome and brilliant, he was also pretty well off. Part of me wondered whether I was going to be participating into the latest rose ceremony upon entering his house.

DEREK: The bathroom's down the hall. You can hop in the shower. I'm going to go grab some clean clothes from the laundry downstairs while you're in there.
ME: Okey doke.

I went into the bathroom, put my duffel bag with my library clothes onto the counter, and proceeded to shower. About three minutes in, I heard the bathroom door open.

DEREK: How are you doing in there?
ME: Um...good, thank you.
DEREK: Excellent.

The door closed. Then I heard footsteps.

ME: Uh...you're not planning on reenacting any of Norman Bates' greatest moments, are you?
DEREK: I can't. My wig and muumuu are at the cleaners.
ME: So then what--

But before I could say any more, Derek had hopped into the shower alongside me. (And like most people jumping into a shower, he was naked.)

ME: Whoa, I...uh...
DEREK: I hope you don't mind. I thought this could save us some time.
ME: Yeah, I guess I should have seen this coming.
DEREK: Carly said sometimes you're the more passive one.
ME: In what sense?
DEREK: The pursuit.
ME: There was a pursuit? I didn't get any memo about a pursuit.
DEREK: She also mentioned the kissing contest.

F**k me. (Actually I shouldn't be saying that in this situation.)

ME: That's actually something that she--
DEREK: Mind if I throw my hat in the ring? It'll be pretty hard to beat a first kiss in the shower now, won't it?
ME: I don't--um--never mind. I can't win this argument.

And I wasn't entirely sure I wanted to--I mean, how often do random spontaneous opportunities to be slutty come up?

So he kissed me...then we kissed some more...

VOICE: Well, that was fun.

I opened my eyes. I was lying in bed with nothing on but a towel feeling incredibly happy and fairly tired. He stood in the doorway, the indescribeable Mr. Right.

MR. RIGHT: You look like you're going to fall asleep.
ME: Showering tends to tire me out.
MR. RIGHT: I bet.
ME: Where are you headed?
MR. RIGHT: I'm going to go for a run. Then we need to pick up your nephew.
ME: You sure you don't mind him staying here this weekend?
MR. RIGHT: Are you kidding? I'm thrilled. I hate having to send him home.
ME: Well, maybe we should get one we wouldn't have to send home.
MR. RIGHT: You have a nephew we could keep?
ME: I mean, a child. Like--of our own.

Mr. Right sits down on the edge of the bed.

MR. RIGHT: You realize there are things you have to give up when you have a kid of your own?
ME: Like whoopee in the shower?
MR. RIGHT: Like whoopee in general. At least until they're older.
ME: I want a family. I can't help it.
MR. RIGHT: I'm not asking you to.
ME: I'm years older than my parents were when they had me.
MR. RIGHT: I thought you wanted to wait?
ME: Until I found the right guy, but now I've found you. So--
MR. RIGHT: So...I'm going to go for my run.
ME: Okay.
MR. RIGHT: And when I come back, we can talk more about this.
ME: Any chance I can get an answer before you take off?

Mr. Right laughs then leans over and kisses me.

MR. RIGHT: How about a great big 'Yes'?

I smile and pull him onto the bed with me.

MR. RIGHT: Why am I having deja vu right now?
ME: Quiet you, I'm amending your exercise routine.

We both laugh and kiss and...

All I could hear was the sound of his breathing. I wasn't sure when he had fallen asleep, but I couldn't follow suit. I kept staring up at the ceiling, and after awhile it became pretty clear that I just needed to get out of there.

I texted Carly:

TEXT FROM ME: I just showered with Derek.
TEXT FROM CARLY: You slut. I'm so proud.

I didn't want to be the guy who takes off after...you know, so I wrote him a note explaining that I had a great time and it would be terrific if we could hang out again--perhaps somewhere a little more public than his shower. Something told me I wouldn't be hearing back from him any time soon--thank God.

On the way home, I got a call from Uncle Will and Jeff.

JEFF: Bryce or Bryant?
ME: I'm sorry.
UNCLE WILL: Which is a better name?
ME: For what? A retirement home?
JEFF: The baby. Our baby.
ME: You're already picking out baby names? You just decided to adopt.
UNCLE WILL: We were just discussing it casually, and then Jeff got all crazy--
JEFF: I did not get 'all crazy.' You want to name our son after a college.
UNCLE WILL: And you want to name him after your ex.
JEFF: I just like the name Bryce. I can't help that he was an ex of--
ME: I just hooked with a guy after knowing him for less than three hours!

Silence.

UNCLE WILL: Are you--uh--okay?
ME: Yes, I'm fine. No, I'm not fine. I mean, I just--
JEFF: Kevin, it's not the first time someone's done something like that.
UNCLE WILL: It sure as hell isn't the first time you've done something like that.
JEFF: Will!
ME: I know, but I'm trying to be better, remember? Be a better person? New rules of my life?
JEFF: This doesn't make you a bad person, Kev.
UNCLE WILL: If anything it's a minor slipup if your quest to be perfect. It's not that big a deal. By the way, was he hot? Ow!
JEFF: Oh sorry, was that my elbow in your ribs?
ME: I'm also having trouble running.
UNCLE WILL: Running from what?
ME: No, not from what. Just--

Wait a second.

Running from what?

Exactly.

That's why I was having trouble. That's why being alone was freaking me out. That's why even moments of quiet like the one I experienced lying next to Derek unnerved me. I felt like I was running away from something that I knew was going to catch up with me. I felt like I was biding time.

But biding time until what? What was chasing me?

JEFF: Kevin, is it possible that you could be running from who you used to be? Who you're trying to stop being? Are you afraid that old person is going to come back and ruin all the work you've done?
ME: Yeah...Yeah, I guess that could be it.
JEFF: Why don't you stop running from that guy and face him? Face him head on.
UNCLE WILL: Great. You're encouraging him to develop multiple personalities.
JEFF: Whatever, Bryant.
UNCLE WILL: Bryce sounds like a ranchhand!
JEFF: What's wrong with ranchhands?

After a spout of bickering, Uncle Will and Jeff managed to bid me good-bye just as I was pulling into my driveway. I looked across the street and found Odd Guy sitting on his roof. I wanted to know what he thinks about when he's up there, but another part of me already knew.

He was probably telling himself what was right and what was wrong. What he should do and what he couldn't. Thinking about all the things he knew and the things he'd never understand.

I decided it was time to have a little talk with someone I haven't spoken to in the past few weeks.

ME: Hey Old Self.
OLD SELF: Hey Kev, I guess you're ready to talk.
ME: Yeah, I'm ready. No more running.
OLD SELF: You know, we used to have some good times.
ME: We did, but...
OLD SELF: No more?
ME: No.
OLD SELF: I don't get it. What was it about me you didn't like? I'm strong. I'm passionate. I'm determined.
ME: You alienate people. You're controlling. Manipulative. Selfish, petty--
OLD SELF: At least I don't let people walk all over me.
ME: And at what cost? You walk all over everybody else instead.
OLD SELF: It's dog eat dog out there, Kev.
ME: Yeah, well maybe I'm sick of being a dog. Maybe I want to be something else.
OLD SELF: Like what?
ME: I don't know. A good friend. A good boyfriend. A Dad...someday.
OLD SELF: So this is good-bye?
ME: Afraid so. Good luck.
OLD SELF: Thanks. I'm thinking of moving to L.A.
ME: I think you'll do well there.

After the convo, I got out of my car and started walking down the street. The walk turned into a jog. And the jog turned into a run. And this time all I could hear in my head were the sounds of my foot falling on the ground, going somewhere I didn't know and couldn't wait to get to.