The New Rules of My Life

Thou Shalt Exorcise Old Friends

2008-10-02T12:02:00.001-07:00

HOROSCOPE: An old friend who did you wrong is back in town. Why not take this opportunity to settle the score? Revenge is petty, but a good confrontation is what separates the boys from the Queens.

I rarely get so nervous that I shake.

But I was shaking.

I like to put out this idea of myself--an appearance, but...

Well, remember on Buffy when Willow went crazy and became a baddie?

No?

You don't watch Buffy--or didn't?

Okay, so I need a better analogy.

Well, why don't I just put it this way--

There is no enemy scarier than an old friend.

ME: Friend, you're my Julia Child.
FRIEND: Oh, honey...Fuck off.

For those of you who haven't met Friend, please check out my earlier blog--www.100dates100boys.blogspot.com.

He's pretty prevalent throughout all of it.

But after it was done, so was our friendship.

And not in any grand, big finale fashion.

He just...stopped.

No more phone calls.
No more text messages.
No answers to anything I asked.

It all just...stopped.

Part of it was that my Friend was a big fan of Charlie, who you'll also meet if you choose to peruse the blog, and when Charlie and I ended, I think my Friend felt that he was in the right, and that--well, that I was a little too hard to support during the break-up.

Truth be told, I really don't blame him. I'm not always the easiest guy to stick up for.

So, I consulted with some of my 100 Dates friends to see what they thought I should do.

BRIAN: Sock him in the f**king face when you see him.
ME: Brian--
SCOOTER: I concur.
ME: Did you just use the word 'concur'?
TURNER: I'm sorry, but you're friends with someone you don't expect them to always do the right thing or be a saint. We were all friends with you back then and yes, you were a little rough around the edges--
ME: Is this supposed to be helpful?
TURNER: --And you still are--We all are!--But we don't judge and bail on each other.
BRIAN: Kevin, your Dad was in the hospital, you were going through a break-up, and all you could get out of your Friend was--

Stop.

Just stop.

That was all I ever got.

BRIAN: I'm telling you, punch him in the f**king teeth.

And yet, I really can't.

But I do have some things to say--if I could just stop shaking.

I don't see him when he comes in the cafe. As it is, I had to trick him to meet me here, but it felt necessary at the time. Now it just feels cheesy.

He sits down with that look on his face. It's a look that you give a project when it's over and yet, still giving you trouble.

Like my science project in fifth grade that never quite seemed completed.

That was the look.

I couldn't imagine what he would say, but then--

FRIEND: What?

There it was.

ME: Hi.
FRIEND: Where's Charlie?
ME: He's not coming.
FRIEND: He said--
ME: What I asked him to say. Strangely enough, he's gotten past hating me, but you haven't.
FRIEND: Have a good day.

He started to leave.

ME: I'm not sure why I'm surprised every time you run away.

This stopped him. He turned around, came back to the table, and sat down.

FRIEND: If you want to do this, we can do this, but it's not going to be pretty.
ME: I don't need pretty, I need the truth.
FRIEND: The truth is you started to annoy me, I didn't like the way you were treating Charlie, and basically, I stopped liking you. So I cut you off, as is my prerogative. I don't care what you or anybody else thinks about it, or me, and I've moved on to much bigger and better things in my life.
ME: Oh right. You're one of those people who really want to act, but don't have the confidence for it, so they become a jaded behind-the-scenes boy.
FRIEND: No respect for the little people?
ME: A good tech person is beyond value, but that's not what you are. You're just a scared little actor too afraid to step in front of the curtain.

This was all petty of me, but I didn't care. Somehow I went from nervous to furious. It was probably because furious is easier to deal with in the long run.

ME: You didn't like the way I treated Charlie? What about the way you treat guys?
FRIEND: What way is that?
ME: The same way you treated me. You insert yourself into their lives and just when you become indispensable you disappear with no consideration for them at all.
FRIEND: And your mistake was thinking you were going to be any different.
ME: So you don't see a friend as being different from a fling?
FRIEND: People are people. When they start wearing thin, they need to go.
ME: I wonder if you'll still have that attitude thirty years from now when you're surrounded by cats and antique chairs, watching PBS and riddled with syphilis.
FRIEND: Are you calling me a slut? Because that would be--
ME: Pot, kettle, black? Oh, don't I know it. The only difference is, I never dressed up my hookups to look like relationships. I called them like they were.
FRIEND: So you're a public slut, I'm a private one. Maybe I just don't like strutting my business throughout the town on any blog I can get my hands on.

I believe this is where my only thought, bitch it's on.

ME: By the time our friendship ended, I couldn't even go out with you because we'd run into too many boys looking to kill you. Most of them ugly and stupid, might I add.
FRIEND: Maybe if you hadn't gone out so much, Charlie wouldn't have sent you packing.
ME: Maybe if Charlie, like some of my friends, could handle hearing the truth, he would have wanted me to stick around. You two got along so well because you both like doing the wrong thing and then having your--big quotations here--friends tell you you're doing the right thing.
FRIEND: As opposed to you, who always knows you're doing the wrong thing and does it anyway?
ME: I never said I was perfect.
FRIEND: I wouldn't even say you were of value.
ME: You're right. I couldn't get TGIFriday's waiters to give me their phone numbers. Why bother to go on?
FRIEND: And you always broke your own rules. You have this huge list of rules that everybody has to follow or they get the cold shoulder from you, and then you break every one of those rules and expect that--
ME: Are you calling me a hypocrite? Guilty. Obnoxious? Yes. Sanctimonious? Probably. But I'm sorry, did you not know all this when we first became friends--
FRIEND: I--
ME: How about during the year we talked every single day? Did you just not notice that I was a big pile of crazy?
FRIEND: So you've made peace with yourself?
ME: I've made peace knowing that if your Dad was in the hospital and all you needed was to hear my voice, I would have called you. I can make peace with myself knowing that I'm not that heartless. That I can't put down those walls even if I want to. That at the end of the day, given the choice between helping you and hurting you, I'd still choose to help if you were in trouble. I can make peace knowing that within myself there's a person who can do that despite all the bullshit that might be piled on top of the good stuff. And every time I'd have trouble sleeping at night repeating everything I said to you right before you cut me off, that would be my lullaby. That I wouldn't do to you what you did to me. That I might be awful, but I wasn't that awful. That's how I made peace with it. So question, Friend, how do you make peace with yourself?
FRIEND: I don't know. Maybe I just like being an asshole. Do you have a monologue all prepared in case I answered with apathy? In case I just don't care?

Actually, I sort of did.

ME: Don't believe what everyone tells you. Who you associate with can determine your perceived worth, and whether or not you care, you should keep that in mind. You're incredibly talented at what you do. I love the pride you take in your work. You made me laugh harder than just about anybody I've ever met in my life. Thank you for a wonderful year of friendship. I'm sorry for everything I did wrong, and I forgive you for doing the one thing to me you knew I might not survive. I survived, but I still miss you terribly sometimes. Good-bye.

I stood up.

FRIEND: What the hell was that?
ME: That was everything I wanted to say to you that I refused to leave in a voicemail.
FRIEND: How poignant.
ME: By the way, I still love you more than my luggage. And that person inside will still force me to answer the phone if you ever decide to call. I just think you should know that.
FRIEND: So now you want a hug?
ME: No, now I have to be the one to leave.

And I did.

I walked away.

The shaking started again, but this time it felt like it was shaking something out. Shaking out all the rage and pain and tears and frustration.

And when I stopped shaking again, I knew I wouldn't start again any time soon.

Thou Shalt Converse with the Other Generation

2008-09-18T14:26:00.000-07:00

HOROSCOPE: Remember to keep in touch with your grandparents. After all, time is precious.

After reading this, I decided to give each of my grandparents a phone call. This is a little tricky since both sets of my grandparents are divorced and remarried.

PHONE CALL #1: Dad's Stepmother

ME: Hi Grandma Elaine.
ELAINE: Kevin!
ME: How are you?
ELAINE: Oh, I miss your grandfather like a madwoman.
ME: Really? Even after ten years?
ELAINE: Every day I mourn for him.
ME: Well, I'm glad I called you then.
ELAINE: I'd love to talk, honey, but I'm heading out.
ME: Where to?
ELAINE: Oh, just out with a friend.
ME: To bingo or something?
ELAINE: No, a gentleman friend.
ME: A date? You're going on a date?
ELAINE: Just an outing.
ME: Where are you going?
ELAINE: Dinner and a movie, then maybe stop by the beach.
ME: That's a date!
ELAINE: I'm a grown woman. I can go where I want.
ME: Of course you can. I just thought you were mourning grandpa.
ELAINE: We all grieve in our own way. Don't judge me.
ME: Grandma, God rest his soul, but Grandpa was a miserable old man. Live it up.
ELAINE: That's my boy.

Sound of motorcycle.

ELAINE: Gotta run.

PHONE CALL #2: Mom's Dad and Stepmother

ME: Hi Grandma Sarah, how's Florida?
SARAH: Bruce! Kevin's on the phone!
BRUCE: Who?
SARAH: YOUR GRANDSON! HE'S ON THE PHONE!
ME: Did I call at a bad time?
BRUCE: WHO?
SARAH: Of course not! How are you, honey? You sound thin.
ME: Same weight as always.
SARAH: Thin, right. BRUCE!

The other line picks up.

BRUCE: Hello?
ME: Hi Grandpa.
SARAH: Are you doing any more shows?
BRUCE: Is this Kevin?
ME: Yup.
BRUCE: You son-of-a-bitch!
SARAH: Bruce!
BRUCE: When are you coming down here?
ME: You know I hate flying.
BRUCE: You little chickenshit! Hahaha...

My grandfather treats me like I'm one of his old buddies from the pub.

SARAH: You have to send me pictures from your last show!
ME: I'm working on it.
SARAH: I tell all my friends you do theater.
ME: What do they say?
SARAH: Well, usually they tell me about their grandsons who are doctors or lawyers.
ME: Oh...sorry.
SARAH: Oh, don't worry about it. I tell them you like boys and that shuts them up.
BRUCE: Old bitches.
SARAH: Everybody wants a gay grandson now. You should hear them down here. My grandson is marrying this shiksa, which I think is Latvian for whore.
ME: It's Yiddish.
BRUCE: Who?
ME: Never mind.
SARAH: So I say, Well I don't have to worry about that, because my grandson Kevin likes boys. The jealously that fills their eyes--
BRUCE: Priceless.
SARAH: Priceless.
BRUCE: Shuts those old bitches right up.

Now you know where I get my swearing from--

SARAH: You know whose a handsome man? What's-his-name from the gay cowboy movie. Not the dead one.
ME: Jake Gyllenhaal?
SARAH: Him!

Why does everyone in my family want to set me up with Jake Gyllenhaal?

ME: He likes girls, or so they say. He's with Reese Witherspoon.
SARAH: That shiksa?
BRUCE: She's stiffer than a corpse.
ME: You know shiksa--never mind.
BRUCE: You little asshole! We got to get you down here.
ME: Not a chance, geezer.
BRUCE: Hahaha! I love you, you little prick.

Sentiment like that they don't make at Hallmark.

PHONE CALL #3: Dad's Mom

NANCY: How's school, darlin?
ME: I'm out of school, Grandma.
NANCY: Is this Steve?
ME: No, this is Kevin.
NANCY: The one who married Igor?
ME: No, that's Steve, and I thought we all agreed we were going to stop calling Maria that?
NANCY: Are you the one with the weird eye?
ME: No, that's Mark.
NANCY: The bad teeth?
ME: That's my Dad.
NANCY: The one on the third marriage?
ME: That could be a few people.
NANCY: The one who got arrested for kiddie porn?
ME: I'm not even sure who that would be, but you just convinced me not to attend the Family Reunion.
NANCY: Well if you're not any of those wackos, then that's good.
ME: Have you quit smoking yet?
NANCY: Just like Bad Teeth. Always on me about the smoking.
ME: Dad's been telling you to quit smoking?
NANCY: Yeah.
ME: What did you say?
NANCY: I told him to quit marrying twelve-year olds.
ME: Well, there's really no arguing with that now is there?

Grandma Nancy isn't what I'd call...maternal.

PHONE CALL #4: Mom's Mom

I know I shouldn't play favorites but--

BIANCA: You were so good in your play!

--Grandma Bianca kind of kicks everyone else's ass.

BIANCA: But you should have had that other boy's part.
ME: Grandma, that 'boy' is forty-five.
BIANCA: He was so boring. It was like listening to paint dry.
ME: I'm not sure that makes a sound.
BIANCA: They could have put gray make-up on you, and you would have been fine.
ME: Eh, I liked my role.
BIANCA: You know who you should play? One of those cats.
ME: I'd rather kill myself.
BIANCA: What's wrong with being a cat?
ME: It's not really...Well, for one thing, I can't dance.
BIANCA: Since when can't you dance?
ME: Have you ever seen me dance?
BIANCA: You danced that one time at the wedding where you had that seizure.
ME: The dancing was the seizure.
BIANCA: Oh my...Well, I'm glad you don't seize.
ME: Thank you.
BIANCA: You know, you're my favorite, but don't tell your brothers.

She tells us all that.

All four phone calls took a total of three hours.

(My Thanksgivings usually last a total of three weeks.)

Next week I'm starting on the aunts and uncles...

Heaven help me.

Thout Shalt Bond with Family, James Bond

2008-09-17T11:05:00.000-07:00

HOROSCOPE: Let a common bond unite you when it comes to family matters.

A well-known fact to everyone who knows me.

My family owns the Bond franchise.

Let me clarify.

My grandfather's cousin was Albert "Cubby" Broccoli, and his children own pretty much anything Ian Fleming ever wrote.

When I was kid this impressed me, because Ian Fleming also wrote Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.

As I got older, I liked...bigger men.

ME: You know who was a hot Bond? Timothy Dalton.
ADAM: Oh my God, shut up. You are the only person on the face of the earth that liked Timothy Dalton.
ME: Hey! He was in The Rocketeer! Show a little respect.

My father's side of the family has always resented the fact that a mere limb away on the family tree sits a pile of money and prestige that we will never get to.

DAD: Unless they were all to die in some horrible accident.
ME: Dad!
DAD: I'm just saying!
ME: That's my line. Don't use that.

Over dinner at my Dad's house, we often discuss what we would do if that avalanche ever takes out all of the wealthy citizens of Long Island where the Rich Broccolis reside.

DAD: You know who'd make a good Bond girl? Heather Locklear.
ME: Dad, she's too old.
DAD: She's my age.
ME: You're old.
DAD: Hey!
STACEY: I think Jake Gyllenhaal would be a good James Bond.
ME: Yeah, if he ever manages to look something other than befuddled.
HARRY: Okay, I guess we all forgot you're the creative genius. Who would you cast?
ME: Me, duh!

Riotous laughter.

ME: Um, what's so funny? At least I'm a brunette, unlike that poser Daniel Craig.
DEANNA: If there was a gay James Bond, it should be--
STACEY: Jake Gyllenhaal.
DEANNA: Rupert Everett.
DAD: Liberace.

Silence.

DAD: What? Is he old, too?
ME: No, he's dead.

I could be such a kickass James Bond.

And my Bond boy?

HARRY: Are you kidding?
ME: Justin Chatwin would be such a choice Bond boy.
DEANNA: Whose he?
ME: Go watch The Invisible.
STACEY: I saw that. It wasn't every good.
ME: You have to watch it with the sound off to really enjoy his performance.
DAD: Okay, enough talk of desecrating the family cash cow.
ME: Were you not the one who wanted to cast the playmates from The Girls Next Door as the first ever Bond Blonde triplets?
DAD: That was a choice based on autistic merit.
HARRY: Dad, you mean artistic--
ME: No, he had it right the first time.

I guess you could say we all have...creative differences.

Thou Shalt Bang the Drum Slowly

2008-09-05T15:25:00.000-07:00

Okay, so I've returned from a mini-hiatus.

www.thiscantbetheater.blogspot.com is still going.

But in the meantime, I still need to work on some things.

For one, I've always thought I should be able to play a musical instrument.

ADAM: Do you know how?
ME: No.
ADAM: Do you have the patience to learn?
ME: Sure. I can take a week or so.
ADAM: Why the sudden interest?
ME: It would be nice to have an actual skill.
ADAM: You mean besides being able to recite all of 'Modern Major General.'
ME: That's not a...yeah, I need to get on this.

I went through the list of potential musical instruments I could learn in a day or two.

The tambourine--a little too flaming.
The triangle--rock bands don't usually required them.
The xylophone--getting closer...

Drums.

I need to play the drums.

CARLY: Oooh drummers are hot.
ME: I know. I think I might have a shot at being legendary, like Pam's ex.
CARLY: Tommy Lee?
ME: Yeah, him.
CARLY: You'd be better off replicating some of his other...talents.
ME: Obvi, but for now let's talk about rhythm.
CARLY: Forget it. Use a condom.
ME: What?
CARLY: Oh, I thought you meant the method.
ME: Ah.
CARLY: Do you have any rhythm.
ME: Good question.

I decided to give my brother's set a try. I sat down and tried to play Wipeout.

I wiped out.

RORY: To be a drummer you have to lose all inhibition.
ME: Like Animal from the Muppets?
RORY: Who are the Muppets?
ME: Never mind, I'm old.
RORY: Just let yourself go.

I have major problems with that.

Anything that involves me letting loose makes me nervous.

Swing sets.
Twirling in a circle.
Letting people kiss the left side of my body.

It just makes me nervous.

BETH: I'm the same way with my right elbow. You kiss it; I scream and punch you.
ME: Why would anyone kiss your right elbow?
BETH: I dated a guy who was into elbows.
ME: Let's get off that topic as quick as possible.
BETH: Are you going to try the drums again?
ME: Yeah, tonight.
BETH: Just do it Animal.
ME: LADY! LADY!
BETH: Okay, that's just scary.

I sat down at the drum set, and tried to let go. After a few minutes, I was jamming away, but it didn't sound good at all.

My stepfather Roger heard me and came downstairs.

ROGER: I thought it was Rory, but I didn't hear any obscenities.
ME: It didn't sound good, did it?
ROGER: It sounded fun.
ME: Is that good or bad?
ROGER: Kevin, your problem starts with you even asking that question.
ME: Huh?
ROGER: Who cares if it's bad? Music is supposed to be fun. For you.
ME: Thanks Mr. Holland.
ROGER: Any time.

He went upstairs and I started to drum again.

Somewhere along the way, the music stopped being anything but a riot.

And I mean that in the best sense of the word.

I'm even thinking of starting my own band--

The Kevin Broccoli Tambourine Music Project But With No Tambourine Cause We're Better Than That

It could be kind of a big deal.

Thou Shalt Put on a Show

2008-08-26T13:21:00.001-07:00

HOROSCOPE: Today's the day to take on that endeavor that you've been too afraid to try.

Eating a tomato it is.

Just kidding.

ADAM: You're going to put on a show?
ME: You know, I bounce around from theater to theater, and hope and pray that I'm going to strike gold every time. Why don't I just make my own gold?
ADAM: Because only the Earth can do that. It's geography.
ME: You mean geology?
ADAM: Whatever. Point being, you can't just decide you're going to put on a show and then do it. You're not Mickey Rooney, and I am not Judy Garland.
ME: You're not?
ADAM: Okay, maybe in the shower, but otherwise--

It's not like I'm completely naive to what it takes to get a production together.

Good people.
Lots of outside support.
A script people can get behind.

BETH: Money, money, money, money--
ME: Yes, I'm aware that--
BETH: Money, money, money, money--
ME: OKAY! OKAY!
BETH: And you have none.
ME: I got along just fine in college when I was doing shows without that much money.
BETH: That was because space rental was free. That's what's going to kill you. The cost of space.
ME: There has to be some way around that. How did they do it in Shakespeare's time?
BETH: They declared war on the theater owners.
ME: That's not completely out of the question yet.

I kept reading through scripts to find that magical work. It has to be something so momentous I can't help but push for it.

So far the stage version of Growing Pains and Fraggle Rock: A Media Extravaganza! are out of the running.

CARLY: Theater snob.
ME: I just want to wow people.
CARLY: Then quilt. Theater doesn't wow anymore.
ME: It could--give the right--um--
CARLY: Given a miracle?
ME: Yeah, one of those would help.
CARLY: I'd offer to lend my support, but I don't like to fail at anything.
ME: Can you at least work box office?
CARLY: For a show that's never going to happen? Sure. Count me in.

An undertaking like this means I'm going to have put everything else aside.

SHANE: Huh?
ME: Not you, sweetie. But you may have to act in it.
SHANE: Sweet!

This blog, however, has to go.

In its place, I'm going to document everything about what it takes to put on this show.

That's right--it's a brand new blog.

www.thiscantbetheater.blogspot.com

Get ready to be wowed.

Thou Shalt Be On Time

2008-08-25T16:12:00.000-07:00

HOROSCOPE: You're very often late--kick that habit before it kicks you.

Thanks, Poor Richard. You want me to invent a cast-iron stove while I'm at it?

Yes, I'm late.

I'm late a lot.

I have a big problem being punctual, but from now, no more!

ADAM: I'm proud of you.
ME: Thank you, Adam.
ADAM: You realize you were supposed to meet me fifteen minutes ago, right?
ME: DAMN!

As I raced to meet Adam, I wondered why I'm always behind the clock?

SHANE: It might be your ego. People who are always late tend to believe the world can wait for them.
ME: I never think that! If anything I'm mortified every time I'm late. I used to skip classes rather than be late in college.
SHANE: That's a little extreme.
ME: Well, it was usually Introduction to Computers, so it's not like I put up much of a fight.
SHANE: Babe, I don't care if you're late. It doesn't bother me.
ME: But it bothers me. You're right when you say it makes me look ego maniacal, not to mention insensitive. And I'm not insensitive at all!
SHANE: Shouldn't you be getting off the phone so you can get to Adam?
ME: Oh, he can wait.

I ended up only being about ten minutes late--Adam, as usual, was exaggerating. After the movie we went out to eat. Carly and Beth joined us.

CARLY: So do you just have no concept of time? I get like that sometimes when I'm making love. It seems like hours have gone by and it's been only a few minutes.
ADAM: You're hooking up with that guy Bad in Bed Bobby again, aren't you?
CARLY: It's called a dry spell, Adam. You try living through it.
ME: I have a concept of time. It's just...I'm scared of getting anywhere before people.
BETH: Why?
ME: Because--
BETH: Because they might not show up.
CARLY: You're not the one taking a chance.
ADAM: If you show up late, either they're there or they're not there, but the power was in your hands.
ME: Wow...a fear of rejection. Like when I would wait for my dad to pick me up and he wouldn't show.
CARLY: That's a bit of a stretch.
ME: It's okay. Anything I can blame my father for is fine with me.

So now I just have to get over my fear of rejection--not nearly as easy as making sure I'm on time. I came up with a new system for ensuring I'd be all right.

ME: So you're there now?
SHANE: Yes, I'm here. I'm right here.
ME: You're going to be there when I get there.
SHANE: Yup.
ME: You're not somewhere else and just saying you're there, right?
SHANE: No, and I'd also like to mention that only a crazy person would do that and I'm not crazy.
ME: No, but I am. I love you.
SHANE: I love you, too.

Sometimes a little support goes a long way to getting you where you need to be...on time.

Thou Shalt Be Mr. Popular

2008-08-22T13:21:00.001-07:00

Horoscope: You're especially charismatic today, so go out and work it. Surround yourself with strangers, and treat them like friends.

Easier said than done, horoscope. I live in Rhode Island, what strangers am I supposed to meet? You can barely walk down the road in this state without running into a former boyfriend, your dentist, or both.

ADAM: Oh Dr. Schweitzer, we shared so much more than dental hygiene tips.

I decided that the only way to make new friends and be the life of the party was to find a party I could be the life of--

ADAM: Huh?

--or something like that.

ADAM: Try going to a straight bar.
ME: You want me to be a one-man guerrilla take-over? What am I supposed to win them over with? Witty anecdotes about my dating life?
ADAM: Yeah, pass out printed entries from your 100 Hookups blog and let the fun begin.
ME: Or I could just strive to be friendly and see who I meet?
ADAM: Chances are you're going to meet a lot of freaks. I say go for it!
ME: Laugh it up, broseph, but guess whose coming with me?
ADAM: Beth? Carly? Shane, whose required to because he's your love prisoner?
ME: Try again.

Adam and I went out and I made a solid effort to meet and talk to new people.

It didn't go over as I planned.

ME: Hi, I'm Kevin. I don't think we've met.
NEWBIE #1: Actually, we have. You attacked my boyfriend once.
ME: I did.
NEWBIE #1: You two went out on a date and when you got him back to your place you lunged at him.
ADAM: He had rabies for awhile there. You'll have to forgive him.
ME: I never lunged at anybody! I'm not a gazelle!
NEWBIE #1: Whatever. He and I have moved past it and we're now very happy together.
ADAM: Is that him making out with that shotboy?
NEWBIE #1: Jesus Christ, not again!

Second time around...

ME: Hi, I'm Kevin. I don't think we've met.
NEWBIE #2: Actually we went to school together.
ME: We did?
NEWBIE #2: Yeah, I was in your gym class in high school.
ME: Shut up! I don't remember you.
NEWBIE #2: That's because you called me Frosted Flakes.
ME: Frosted Flakes! With the flaky dandruff hair--ohhh, I'm so sorry. I was such a bitch in high school.
ADAM: Oh, so much has changed since then. Turn away, Ali Sheedy, I feel like its snowing.

Third time's a charm.

ME: Hi, I'm Kevin. I don't think we've met.
NEWBIE #3: You're right. We haven't.
ME: Jackpot!
NEWBIE #3: Wanna do some blow in my car?
ME: Como estas?
ADAM: Donde mi integrito?

I give up.

On the way back from the car, I felt despondent. Not only was I not Mr. Popular, but it seemed like way more people dislike me than I originally though.

ADAM: Look at it this way, most people barely have enough time for their friends. Why bother getting all new ones you're going to have even less time for?

Leave it to Adam to come up with an insensitive, and yet, practical solution.

ME: Want to get IHOP with me?
ADAM: Nah, I've had enough of you for the night.

And he keeps me very, very grounded.

I suppose I'll have to be charming and magnetic some other day.

Until then, I'm flying solo.

Thou Shalt Not Spend Money

2008-08-21T07:13:00.000-07:00

HOROSCOPE: Watch your finances today. Avoid spending if you can help it.

Can't I just say 'The Boy Can't Help It' and leave it at that?

ADAM: There is no way you can do a day without spending money frivolously.
ME: Sure I can! I didn't buy anything unnecessary yesterday.
ADAM: Didn't you buy a journal for eight dollars?
ME: It was green and pretty...
ADAM: You already have a journal.
ME: It's blue and filled with the ramblings of a whiny gay.
ADAM: Here's an entry for your new pretty journal--Today I went against my horoscope and--
ME: No chance. Today my wallet is going into lockdown mode.
ADAM: Sounds like my love life.

Everything started off well. I avoided getting my usual morning treat of two chocolate frosted donuts and an iced tea. Instead, I drank water at work.

Then, I ran into a snag.

RORY: Kevin, can you pick me up something at the bookstore?
ME: No.
RORY: Why not?
ME: If I go to the bookstore I'll spend money.
RORY: On what?
ME: Brazilian whores.
RORY: They those at Barnes and Noble?
ME: On books, Rose! I'll spend money on books. Do I have to get the cheesecake now?
RORY: But you work at a library.
ME: It doesn't matter. I buy books compulsively and I can't take the chance of going to the bookstore and seeing something I want.
RORY: So now I'm not going to do my summer reading and fail school!
ME: You don't want a summer reading book. You want the soundtrack to Camp Rock.
RORY: I--That's--Shut up!

Disaster averted.

BETH: How do you define frivolous?
ME: Unnecessary.
BETH: Would that include cigarettes?
ME: Considering I don't smoke, yes.
BETH: But I mean, for me--
ME: I'm pretty sure for you they're right up there with food and oxygen.
BETH: How about alcohol?
ME: That would still be frivolous.
BETH: Blockbuster movie rentals?
ME: Do they have any educational value?
BETH: They're all documentaries about the atrocities of war.
ME: Beth, you're perfectly capable of depressing yourself for free, you don't need movies to help you out.
BETH: Good point.

Nighttime was going to be the real test. Shane and I went out, and I avoided parking anywhere that would charge me, which wasn't so hard.

(Providence is fine when it comes to free parking. If I lived in Boston, I would have already given up on this venture and busted out my ATM card.)

Cover was cheap--about four dollars. I reasoned that it was necessary because otherwise I'd be sitting at home on a Wednesday night, which is so uncool.

Wednesday is the new Saturday, after all.

The real test came after the club. My hankering for my post-club meal started up--

I wanted pancakes.

SHANE: Pancakes are food. You can't say food is unnecessary.
ME: It is when I'm not really hungry.
SHANE: But you want pancakes.
ME: I want a lot of things. I want a new car. I want a vacation to Vegas. I want 30 Rock Season Two on DVD--
SHANE: Kevin, you work hard. You shouldn't feel guilty about spending your money.
ME: But if I spend recklessly--
SHANE: You're in your early twenties. If you're not going to be reckless now, when are you?
ME: I'm actually considered mid-twenties, but I see your point.
SHANE: So?
ME: Rooty Tootie Fresh and Fruity it is.

And I wasn't referring to the guys who had been dancing on the box all evening.

Ba dum bum.

As Shane and I ate our 2am breakfast, all I could think was--

What good is having money if you can't spend it...on fruit-covered flapjacks?

Sorry Horoscope, when you can't answer back, you can't argue.

Thou Shalt Be a Family Man

2008-08-18T14:11:00.000-07:00

HOROSCOPE: Spend more time with your family--whether you like it or not.

It's not that I don't enjoy spending time with my family.

DAD: The gays across the street are having one of their ecstasy parties again.

It's just that I would prefer to do many, many other things.

ADAM: I love hanging out with my family.
ME: That's because they give you money and get you drunk. Mine give me guilt and get me agitated.
ADAM: And there's the difference between the Italian and the Irish.
ME: My Dad's side is Italian. We're just odd around each other because of the...thing.
ADAM: You being a homo?
ME: Yeah, that thing.

Luckily, my horoscope was forcing me to enjoy time with my father at a time when I would have had to anyway.

We were celebrating my niece's birthday party. Little Bella is already one-years-old, which is shocking to me. Even more shocking is that my brother hasn't forgotten her anywhere yet.

HARRY: Today she said crap. Can you believe it?
ME: That classy Broccoli nature is already blossoming.

Deana, my brother's wife, has developed quite a backbone. Whereas she used to be quiet and sweet, she's now constantly steering my brother away from Bella in case he makes some silly little "new father" blunder--like putting her in the refrigerator.

HARRY: It was a joke, Deana!
DEANA: Like your face. Now give me the baby.

See what I mean?

My stepmother Stacey has responded to being a grandmother with gusto. And by gusto, I mean shopping.

STACEY: Look at this new face cream I got.
ME: It has rubies in it?
STACEY: Big chunks of them.
ME: Has does rubbing rock against your face make it smoother exactly?
STACEY: It puts the smell of the rich into your pores.
ME: Yes, because who wouldn't want to smell like Rupert Murdoch? The man looks like the Crypt Keeper.

We were all celebrating Bella's birthday in our usual Broccoli style--by fighting.

DAD: Those damn gays.
ME: Dad, could you call them something else?
DAD: I'm sorry--what's the politically correct name?
ME: Homosexuals would be fine.
DAD: Those limp-wristed homosexuals and their raves are driving me nuts!
ME: Way to slip in an adjective.
DAD: Is that a new drug?

I looked out the window at the supposed rave, and found that it was actually an outdoor dinner party my father's neighbors were hosting on his patio.

ME: Yeah Dad, it looks like quite the Gomorrah over there.
DAD: Don't let them fool you. They're using the barbecue as a front to make porn and sell drugs.
STACEY: Big Kev, I went over there yesterday and I didn't see any cameras or drugs.
DAD: You went over there?
STACEY: Whatever they were making smelled so good I just had to ask for the recipe.
ME: You went to get fashion advice, didn't you?
STACEY: Well you're no help! You told me that blouse looked fine.
ME: It did!
STACEY: It made me look boxy! The gays confirmed it!

Annie came running into the room. She's about to go into fourth grade, and every time I think of that it makes me weep uncontrollably. There should be a button you can put on your younger siblings so that they'll never grow up to know what a schmuck you are.

ANNIE: Kevin, I'm opening a lemonade stand.
ME: Since when do you call me Kevin? I'm Butter!

(Like Brother)

HARRY: She's too old to keep calling you Butter.
ME: Who asked you?
DEANA: Time for dinner, Bella.
DAD: You're going to whip out that boob right at the table?
STACEY: It's perfectly natural, Kev.
DAD: It can be natural in another room. I'm trying to eat here.
ME: I don't like being called Kevin.
ANNIE: It's your name.
ME: Stop growing! Take up smoking or something.

She laughed and ran away. Meanwhile, Deana was feeding Bella.

DAD: So much for dinner.

Just then, we heard music wafting in through the windows. It sounded like Sinatra.

DAD: Are those gays playing Sinatra?
ME: See that, Dad? They're just like you.
HARRY: Gay guys like Sinatra?
ME: Are you kidding? Those eyes--
DAD: Nothing's sacred anymore. Nothing.

Watching my father's idol embraced by dinner party-throwing gay guys was pretty sweet. It reminded me that, as a member of the younger generation, the future is on my side.

And when it comes to family, isn't that all that really matters?

Thou Shalt Not Tolerate Lisa

2008-08-15T12:52:00.000-07:00

Horoscope: Feeling like a pencil? Because it's time to erase somebody from your life.

Normally, I would chalk that kind of foretelling up to a catty day at the astrologist's office, but with the arrival of my friend Lisa in town, I knew serendipity was in play.

ADAM: You're cutting Lisa out of your life?
ME: It's cold and unfeeling, I know.
ADAM: It's amazing! I'm doing it, too!
ME: So I'm not a bad person?
ADAM: Kevin, Lisa is impossible. She's self-centered, obnoxious, and pretentious.
ME: Aren't we all of those things too?
ADAM: Yeah, but we're funny too, so it all evens out.

Before you all start judging, I should probably give you some background on my friend Lisa.

I met her in high school, and we ended up going to the same college together. We've worked on shows together, we took most of the same classes together, and we've always lived within reasonable proximity of each other until she moved to Seattle upon graduating.

It was then that I realized something.

I don't like Lisa.

LISA: Oh my God! So that guy who I told you about? The one who was in love with me?
ME: Tim?
LISA: No. It turns out Tim is gay. I'm talking about AJ.
ME: Okay.
LISA: I thought AJ was in love with me.
ME: But he's not?
LISA: Oh, he totally is, but he won't admit it. He's like, getting married or something. And he like, won't return my phone calls.
ME: That's...well...he might be busy with the wedding.
LISA: Whatever. That's no reason to be rude.

Because Lisa and I have always--some might say forcibly--been a part of each other's lives, it just seemed logical that we should be friends. But once life wasn't demanding that we spend so much time together, it became clear that when the geographic closeness evaporated, so did every other kind of closeness.

It's not just that she's self-centered--

LISA: You have cancer? That's awful. It reminds me of when I had strep...

--Obnoxious--

LISA: You should hear me do that song. You know what? I'll just sing it for you a capella right now. That way you'll hear what I mean.

--Pretentious--

LISA: I mean, I just don't see how you can be a woman and not understand that the preeminent theatrical event of our time was A Streetcar Named Desire.

Like I said, everyone else I know exhibits those qualities too.

It's the fact that she's not aware she's any of those things. I know I do something tool-ish at least once an hour, and most of my friends revel in their cockiness. Lisa, on the other hand, likes to put on false humility when really you can see it in her eyes that she thinks she's better than everyone else. It's hard to be in a room with her where someone's telling a story without sensing how uncomfortable she is that nobody's paying attention to her.

And she's gone to some extreme lengths to get that attention.

LISA: Look, I don't want anyone's pity, but I just need you all to know that my Mom's cousin had two seizures yesterday and I'm just really upset about it.
ME: Lisa, have you ever met your Mom's cousin?
LISA: Like, once, I think. But I mean, a tragedy is a tragedy, even from afar. I think O'Neill said that.

See what I mean?

CARLY: I think O'Neill also said, "That bitch is crazy."
ME: She just sucks the energy out of you. It's like she's an energy vampire.
CARLY: Do I even have to say it?
ME: I know, Die Vampire Die. But this is Lisa! I've known her for years!
CARLY: Because you've had to know her for years. Now you don't have to.
ME: It's not like she can help being the way she is.
CARLY: Exactly. If there was any hope of her changing, I'd say stick it out and maybe she'll stop being a soul-crushing idiot, but since she's been this way forever, there's no point in waiting it out.
ME: I still feel bad.
CARLY: God, you sound like an abused husband still defending his wife.
ME: Lisa has hit me accidentally before--she was swatting at a fly and slapped me across the face.
CARLY: Yup, keep telling yourself that, Norma Lou.

I knew cutting ties with Lisa was going to be awful. She's prone to theatrics. And since I couldn't tell her the real reasons I wouldn't be talking to her anymore, but I didn't want to lie, I'd have to find some brilliant way to get my point across.

BETH: Fake amnesia.
ME: Remember me saying I can't lie?
BETH: Then you're screwed.
ME: Can you come with me?
BETH: No chance in hell.
ME: You're supposed to be her friend too!
BETH: As a show of solidarity with you, I'm cutting Lisa out of my life as well. Carly and Adam are doing the same.
ME: You can't do that! We can't all stop being friends with her! She'll be devastated!
BETH: If you can do it, why can't we?
ME: Because I thought of it first and I have a witty blog that needs material?
BETH: Nice try, Dear Abby.

I wish people would stop calling me lady names.

Dinner with Lisa was in a few hours, and I still couldn't figure out how I was going to get rid of her with all the grace and poise I'm noted for...

I needed to go to somebody who could supply me with sage wisdom. Unfortunately, Yoda was out of town, so I asked my brother, Danny.

DANNY: Does it really bother you that much to have her in your life, or is it simply an annoyance?
ME: She makes me want to rip off my own skin and kick myself in the head.
DANNY: So that would be...?
ME: An annoyance.
DANNY: So put up with it. Life isn't supposed to be one cakewalk after another.
ME: I'm sorry, but you're seventeen and you just used the word 'cakewalk'--
DANNY: Whether or not she shows it, I'm sure you being in her life means a lot to her, probably more than having her in your life irritates you.

Leave it to my brother to make me feel guilty.

ME: You missed out on a great career as an Italian mother, Danny.
DANNY: Shut up and eat.

See what I mean?

I had dinner with Lisa. It was excruciating, as usual, but maybe that's me being dramatic. At the end of the meal we hugged, and promised to hang out again the next time she's in town.

It's fair to say I shouldn't have to put up with anybody I don't want to, but then again, that's life, isn't it?

Maybe Danny's right. Maybe, despite the difficulty I have in finding it, I bring Lisa some small bit of joy. And a small bit of joy can be worth a lot of aggravation.

So I guess that means I'm going against my horoscope for the day. Nobody gets erased.

ADAM: You're a wimp.

...Then again...

Thou Shalt Live Alone and Like It

2008-08-13T09:55:00.000-07:00

HOROSCOPE: Be at peace tonight. Don't go out. Meditate.

Of course, this would be my horoscope on a Saturday.

If I was advised not to go out on a Tuesday, I'd be all about it. But I have to stay home on a Saturday night?

Is SNL even on anymore?

ADAM: What are you going to meditate on?
ME: My life.
ADAM: That should take about five minutes.
ME: I guess by always going out on weekends I'm just conforming to societal norms.
ADAM: So you're knocking societal norms? Does that mean you're going to give up bathing and watching the Olympics?
ME: Oh! I can watch the Olympics!
ADAM: Have fun. I think tonight is table tennis.
ME: Wah.

I would never say that I was Mr. Popular, but it would stand to reason that the one night I decide to stay in is the night I get the most offers to go out.

BETH: Come drink with me.
ME: Beth, you know I don't drink.
BETH: Come watch me drink and judge me.
ME: I can't--not because I wouldn't love to--but I have to stay in tonight and be at peace with myself.
BETH: Is that code for jerking off?

* * * * *

CARLY: But you have to be my wingman tonight!
ME: Carly, whenever I'm your wingman I end up at a straight bar by myself apologizing to the owner for something you did right before you left.
CARLY: I know! It's our Saturday night tradition!
ME: Ask Beth to be your wingman...woman...whatever. She's looking for someone to drink with tonight.
CARLY: Is she good at dealing with the cops?
ME: Not as good as me, but she'll do. Have her tell Officer Dan I said hi.
CARLY: Ohh Officer Dan. He's the best at frisking.

* * * * *

SHANE: So I'm on my own tonight?
ME: Sorry babe.
SHANE: It's okay. I can use the time to read.
ME: What are you reading?
SHANE: Poetry by some homo.
ME: Is that the official title?
SHANE: No, it's called something like "Lovers and Syphilis."
ME: I think that was an Oprah's book club selection.
SHANE: You going to be okay sitting at home alone with your thoughts?
ME: Yeah, why wouldn't I be?

Two hours later...

ME: Niiiiite--oh. Me say niiite--oh. Saturday comes and I wanna go oooout.

It got worse. I resorted to the unthinkable.

Spending time with my family.

ME: Hey Mom, you want to watch a movie together?
MOM: I can't. Me and Grandma are going to Bingo.
ME: Wouldn't you rather spend time with your son than gamble?
MOM: Yes, I would...on a weeknight. But tonight is money night. Love you.

* * * * *

ME: Roger, do you want to have a philosophical discussion about something?
ROGER: Like what?
ME: Suicide.
ROGER: Is it weighing on your mind?
ME: It's a Saturday night and I'm actively seeking quality time with my stepfather. What else would be on my mind?
ROGER: Sorry Kev, I have poker night.
ME: It's all right. I'm sure I can have that discussion with myself while I drive to the nearest bridge.

* * * * *

ME: Hey Danny, whatcha doing?
DANNY: Reading the Bible.
ME: Okay, I'm not that desperate. Where's Rory?
DANNY: He's out.
ME: It's midnight.
DANNY: Yes it is.
ME: He's fourteen.
DANNY: Yes, he is.
ME: You don't think that's a little--
DANNY: I think we should have put him in a home years ago. Did you have a stricter curfew at fourteen?
ME: At fourteen, I was home watching SNICK.
DANNY: What's SNICK?

Oh Christ...

Danny took a break from Job, and ate some ice cream with me.

ME: I think I know why I have a problem not going out.
DANNY: Because this house smells like old cheerios.
ME: No, but now that you mention it--
DANNY: Are you afraid of being alone?
ME: No, I mean, I'm not alone now. It's just that...when I was a kid, I never did anything. I never went anywhere. I was such a homebody. Mom would try to get me to go out and I'd cry and pout and finally she just gave up. And even though it seemed like that was what I wanted, I was always so sad that I was by myself. I felt like there was this big party going on that I just wasn't invited to. And then once I broke out of that, I kept trying to find that party, and I keep thinking that if I go out--
DANNY: Maybe one day you'll run into it?
ME: But there is no party, is there?
DANNY: If there is, everybody there probably wants to be at another party. That's the downside of being social. It's not always very fulfilling.

So maybe that was why I needed to stay home. To learn that the only time you're satisfied being where you are is when you're satisfied with yourself.

Hey, look at me growing as a person!

ADAM: Oh my God, you missed such a good time tonight.

...And now that the lesson is learned, I can continue to go out all the time...

Yay!

Thou Shalt Not Cause a Scene

2008-08-10T23:29:00.000-07:00

Horoscope: Don't cause a scene today, even though you may be tempted...

When have I ever caused a scene?

2002

ME: It's my goddammed graduation and if I want to throw my cap in the air I'm going to!
MOM: Honey, try to remember that you're graduating from a Catholic school, and saying goddam in a cathedral is frowned upon.

2004

ME: Fine! Break up with me! You couldn't get me a better birthday present!
CARLY: Should we all leave the room for this?
ME: No! I still want cake!

2006

ME: Who the fuck ate my English muffins?
GRANDMA: That would be me.
ME: Oh...carry on.

Okay, so maybe I've been known to be a little dramatic.

But lately I've been doing so well.

ADAM: That's because the drugs are working.
ME: They most certainly are not. I'm just mellowing with age.
ADAM: Is that why you disowned me last week when I saw The Mummy 3 without you?
ME: You know we always see bad movies together! It's our thing!
ADAM: Weren't you not supposed to freak out today?
ME: I...uh...I'm hanging up now.

Most normal people would avoid going out when they've been warned that they might be prone to theatrics, but hey, I'm a theater guy, theatrics are unavoidable.

Hence, I didn't even hesitate to go out with the boy in my life for a night on the town.

SHANE: So it's my job to make sure you don't punch someone tonight?
ME: Oh, like you don't have a temper?

Shane is pretty much everything you could want in a guy--passionate, funny, intelligent, tattooed, pierced, and willing to do karaoke.

Plus, he puts up with me.

Saying he makes me happy is like saying Ben and Jerry make ice cream.

SHANE: I only have a temper when creepy pervs are looking you over at the bar.
ME: Well tonight feel free to get into a fight with them about it. I can't be the one causing the fight if I'm the one breaking it up.
SHANE: So I get to be violent tonight?
ME: Happy belated birthday, babe.
SHANE: Yay!

We went out to our usual stomping ground and everything was going fine. Shane sang Natalie Merchant doing Pat Benatar and I did "Private Dancer" because nobody channels Tina like I do, and the world demands that I do it--who am I to say no?

Smooth sailing, right up until Shane went outside to smoke....

VOICE: Nice job on the song.

Catty laughter.

I knew then I was going to fail today's mission.

Turning around, I saw a bunch of college bitches cackling.

ME: Thanks.
CATTY BITCH #1: I was being sarcastic.
ME: Sarcasm? Is that like when I say 'You and your boyfriend look so happy together' when really he's on craig's list under 'Raw and ready'?
CATTY BITCH #2: So are you on there under 'Tacky and tactless'?

Touche.

ME: I would think someone trying to sport a faux hawk after 2004 would be hesitant to use the word tacky...
CATTY BITCH #3: Are you upset because nobody pays attention to you?
ME: No, I'm upset because your shirt is giving me a headache and your attitude weighs almost about as much as your beer belly. I'd lay off the coors--being a shrew doesn't speed up your metabolism, you know.

With that, I walked away and right into Shane.

SHANE: I leave you for five minutes--
ME: That's why you need to quit smoking. I need a more committed baby-sitter.
SHANE: Hey, you're the one making resolutions.

Yeah, keep reminding me.

Thou Shalt Support a Friend

2008-08-08T13:54:00.001-07:00

HOROSCOPE: Support a friend in need. Be a cheerleader.

As many of you know, I hung out with the drama kids in high school, not so much the cheer leading squad--are they even called squads anymore?

I always think squad sounds like the plural form of squid.

We were attacked by a squad in the Atlantic! The horror!

Proving that horoscopes are in fact omniscient, my friend Adam ended his relationship yesterday and really needed some supporting. Before I could do that though, I needed to confer with an actual cheerleader.

CARLY: The important thing is to give good head.

So of course, I called Carly.

CARLY: They love when you do it while you're wearing the actual cheer-leading outfit.
ME: Maybe I should have been more specific when I asked for help. I want to know how to make people feel better.
CARLY: There are things that make boys feel better than oral stimulation?
ME: Yes, Judd Apatow and undercooked meat.
CARLY: Eww...
ME: I just don't know if I'm very good at supporting people.
CARLY: That's because you live your life like a cathedral's roof. Everything has to support you or you'll fall down and kill us all.
ME: Thanks for not overdoing the metaphor.
CARLY: No problem.

I decided to just dive in and then learn to swim.

Another practice I need to give up...

Adam met me at a bar downtown. I was getting there after a show so I was running late and he was--

ADAM: Kevinnnnn Broccoliiiiiii!

Already drunk.

ADAM: Guess who hates their life?
ME: Any one of the Kardashians?
ADAM: Nope.
ME: Well, they should.
ADAM: I'm never going to know happiness again.

Time to be supportive!

ME: Of course you will! Lots of other stuff makes you happy besides being in a relationship.
ADAM: Like what?
ME: Bad reality television, Oprah, [title of show].
ADAM: I've consumed all of the above in the past twenty-four hours. I cried my eyes out to "A Way Back to Then" so many times the CD has a skip in it.
ME: You still buy CD's?

SUPPORTIVE, KEVIN, SUPPORTIVE!

ME: Hey! Let's get out of here and go get pancakes! Pancakes always make people feel better.
ADAM: And by people you mean truckers?
ME: I'm sorry. I suck at cheering people up.
ADAM: You don't have to try so hard. Just you being here is a big help.
ME: Really?
ADAM: Well, getting laid wouldn't hurt either, but yeah.
ME: Aw, that means a lot--the former, not so much the latter.

Maybe Carly was onto something. Maybe I do impose too much on people, forcing them to always support me so that when they need me I don't know what the hell to do.

Well, enough of that. I'm not going to be the cathedral roof anymore! From now on, I'm the...

...um...

The nave!

(Speaking of which, if you haven't read The Pillars of the Earth, I highly recommend it.)

ADAM: Oprah does.

Well, there you go.

Thou Shalt Stay Calm

2008-08-07T13:59:00.001-07:00

So I've come up with a game plan for reforming myself.

I'm going to follow a tried and true method of living.

My horoscope.

ADAM: Hey, I checked your horoscope today. It says you're a tool.
ME: Did it give any advice?
ADAM: Yeah. Stop being a tool.
ME: I'll take that into consideration.
ADAM: This is the dumbest thing I've ever heard from you next to 'I'm sure it's not contagious.'
ME: You still can't prove that it was, in fact, contagious, and I think you can find some good, sound advice in your horoscope. Besides, I'm taking the whole thing with a grain of salt.
ADAM: You should try taking meds instead.

I realize it's not the most conventional idea, but it's better than reading those self-help books that tell you to realize that your energy is equal to that of a deer or a muffin.

HOROSCOPE: You will be put into a tense situation. Stay calm.

I had to get up early to drive my family to the airport so they could jet off to Florida. I'm doing a show right now, so I had to stay behind.

I didn't mind. A week in a house by myself with central air conditioning and no family is all the vacation I need.

But before I could enjoy all that, I had to get myself into a tense situation.

ME: You need to get over to the other lane!
MOM: I'll go when I need to go! I don't need to go yet!
ROGER: You're going to slide right into that semi!
DANNY: Our father, who art in Heaven...
RORY: Mom, do it! It'll be so spaz.
ME: Stop saying spaz like it's a cool thing! Mom, get over now!

Welcome to Tension Town. Next right, Aneurysm Alley.

My mother never lets me drive, even when it's my own car, so I'm subjected to seeing the car I haven't even paid off yet do things that no vehicle not owned by a NASCAR driver should be forced to do.

Then I remembered to stay calm.

ME: Mom, you might want to consider slowing down a little.
MOM: I'm doing forty.
ME: The speedometer says seventy.
MOM: You have to round down.
ROGER: Danny and Rory, I'm teaching you both how to drive.
MOM: Why? So little old ladies can pass them on the highway?
RORY: I think we ran over every old lady on this highway.

Dee breaths, deep breaths.

MOM: Don't forget to eat.
ME: Mom, eating really isn't something you forget to do.
MOM: No parties.
ME: I'm sorry. Am I Ferris Bueller?
RORY: Who's that?
ME: God help us.
DANNY: That's what I'm hoping for. There's construction near the airport.
MOM: I'll just go around it.
ROGER: You can't go around construction!

Lamaze breathing, lamaze breathing.

ME: Hee hee hoooooo...hee hee hooooo...
RORY: Mom, I think Kevin's giving birth!
DANNY: Why are you doing this?
ME: I want to stay calm.
DANNY: You should read this new book--it's all about the energy of muffins.
ME: Are we there yet?
MOM: Not unless the hearse in front of me decides to get the corpse wherever it's going before it thaws out.
DANNY: Mother!
ROGER: Don't bother, Danny. When Mom drives, she turns into Grandma.
MOM: Don't make me turn this car around!

Finally, we made it to the airport.

RORY: We're alive.
DANNY: Yeah, now we just have to get on a giant mechanism designed to stay afloat in the skies thereby defying God's will.
RORY: I call window seat!

I gave everybody a hug good-bye. Truth be told, I don't like having relatives travel, it puts me on edge.

MOM: You going to miss us?
ME: I'm holding back the tears, Ma.
MOM: Take care of yourself.

I could see her eyes tearing up.

ME: Aw, Mom, relax. I'll be okay.

But she was already hugging me again, and not showing any signs of letting go.

She just doesn't handle tense situations very well.

Thou Shalt Try Again

2008-07-26T18:40:00.001-07:00

Whenever you think you're through improving yourself--

ADAM: You're a trainwreck.

--Ask your best friend what he thinks.

ME: I wouldn't say trainwreck.
ADAM: Please, the plane has crashed into the train on the plane in Spain.
ME: Well luckily I'm giving up everything I gave up last time, except this time it's going to stick.
ADAM: So no more--
ME: Nail-biting, coffee, judging people, meddling, or lying.
ADAM: You already broke the last one by saying you're going to do all that stuff.
ME: I haven't had coffee in days and I already stopped the nail-biting.
ADAM: The meddling and the judging?
ME: Did you hear me comment on the boy you're dating yet?
ADAM: Ohhh...that's why. So do you not like him?
ME: I like him, but I don't like the two of you together.
ADAM: So you think we should break up?
ME: That's something you have to decide.
ADAM: Do you think I'm an idiot for dating him?
ME: I think you should do what makes you happy.
ADAM: I hate it when you're loving and supportive.
ME: The Old New me is back, bitch.

Here we go again...

Thou Shalt Give Thanks (The Season Finale)

2007-11-16T11:59:00.000-08:00

Kevin?

I looked down the table at my family. They were all waiting for my words of thanks.

AUNTIE DEB: Hon, it's your turn.
GRANDMA: What are you grateful for?

I try to come up with something, but my mind keeps flashing to other things...

UNCLE WILL: Come stay with us.
ME: Why would I do that?
JEFF: For the experience!
UNCLE WILL: And to be our live-in babysitter.
ME: Yeah, I don't think so.

The day before, Uncle Will and Jeff had called up to wish me a Happy Thanksgiving. It was then that they proposed an idea to me that they clearly had been pondering for sometime.

UNCLE WILL: You need to get out of Rhode Island.
ME: Uncle Will--
JEFF: I agree with him, Kevin. You need some life experience that you're not going to get by staying where you are.
UNCLE WILL: Josh--

(Their roommate)

UNCLE WILL: --is moving out in two weeks, and we thought--
JEFF: --Instead of finding someone else, why not just have you move down here?
ME: What about my job?
UNCLE WILL: You'll get a new job.
JEFF: We'll get you all set up.
UNCLE WILL: Kev, you need to do this, and if you don't do it now...

What he didn't say, but what hung in the air was--"You may never do it."

JEFF: What do you say?
ME: I say--

But nothing was coming out. Auntie Deb was looking over her shoulder at the mashed potatoes still sitting on the counter that were going cold. Rory was texting someone. Danny had his head bowed but I swore I could see his left eye open slightly waiting for my voice to utter a prayer of thanks.

I looked down at my food.

ADAM: How's your chicken?
ME: It's good, but I don't have much of an appetite right now.

Adam and I were dining at the Nordstrom's Cafe.

ADAM: Do you come here a lot?
ME: Yeah...Well, I used to.
ADAM: So are you going to do it?
ME: Finish my chicken. No, go ahead.
ADAM: I wasn't--okay.

I pushed my plate in front of him.

ME: As for the move, I don't know.
ADAM: I think you should.
ME: Just because?
ADAM: Just because there's no reason for you not to. You don't have anything keeping you here. You're not with...um, you know...anymore.
ME: But friends--
ADAM: E-mail, text messaging, carrier pigeons--
ME: Family?
ADAM: It's not like you can get rid of them.
ME: Good point.
ADAM: Kevin, you need to do this. Most people would kill for the chance to leave everything behind and start fresh.
ME: I've already started fresh once this year.
ADAM: Uh huh, and look at your nails.

I looked down and saw that I had started gnawing on them again. Damaged cuticles don't necessarily qualify as an omen, but in this case...

COUSIN ANTHONY: Can we eat already?
GRANDMA: Nobody eats until we've all said thanks.
AUNTIE DEB: Maybe Kevin needs more time to think. What else is everyone thankful for?
RORY: The advances in technology that have led to text messaging.
COUSIN VICKY: Lipo.
UNCLE CHRIS: Forget it.
COUSIN VICKY: I hate you!

All I had to do was think of one thing. One lousy thing! And there were plenty. I just had a lot on my mind.

BETH: He's leaving.
ME: Carlos?
BETH: He's moving to New York.
ME: Oh honey, I'm so sorry.
BETH: I think I'm going with him.
ME: What?

Beth and I were having a trailer trash food night. She had made about two pounds of Mac and Cheese, while I ate pickles, Doritos, and of course, a block of cheese.

BETH: I can't let him go. He's my soulmate.
ME: I thought you didn't even like him that much?
BETH: I hide my true feelings. It's a defense mechanism!
ME: Have you been reading The Four Agreements again?
BETH: What's the worst that could happen?
ME: He could embrace his homosexuality leaving you in New York starving with nowhere to live while he sleeps with chorus boys in his midtown apartment?
BETH: You really think he can get a place in midtown?

I brandished her with a pickle.

ME: You need to think about this, Beth. This is serious.
BETH: I know it is! Don't wave your pickle at me! Wow, I never thought I'd say that to you.
ME: Is he really worth it?
BETH: Is anyone?
ME: Of course!
BETH: So if he doesn't work out maybe I'll find someone there who will.
ME: I wish I could think of things like that.
BETH: Hey, everything's an opportunity, right?
ME: Right.

After a bite out of my pickle, I texted Uncle Will and Jeff.

TEXT: I'll let you know by tomorrow.

First I was going to have to run things by the family.

ME: Okay, so first I do dinner at Auntie's with Mom, then I come over here and we go to Grandma Number One's then Grandma Number Two's, then I take an overdose of Quaaludes and pray for the light to come and get me.

I was at Dad's house reviewing Thanksgiving plans.

DAD: I don't understand why you don't come to my house first.
ME: Because you don't start dinner until six o'clock.
DAD: We'll eat earlier.
STACEY: Kev, let him go over his Aunt's first. Not everything has to be an argument.

Stacey had just come back from shopping.

ME: Isn't the idea to shop tomorrow on Black Friday?
STACEY: I celebrate both Black Friday and Blue Wednesday.
DAD: Fine, but next year--
ME: Actually, I might...Well, I'll be here for next year, obviously, but--
DAD: But what?

I heard the front door open.

HARRY: Dad, where do you want these folding chairs?
DEANA: I have pot pie!
STACEY: Deana, honey, it's not Thanksgiving yet.
DEANA: Stacey, when you feel the urge to make pot pie, you just have to make it.
ANNIE: I like pot pie!

My little sister grabbed the pie from Deana as I went to help Harry with the folding chairs.

DAD: We were talking.
ME: I'm thinking of moving in with Uncle Will and Jeff for a little while.
DAD: The fruits?
STACEY: Kev!
DAD: I mean, the fairies?
ME: Yes, Dad. Although I think the acceptable derogatory term is now 'pansy.'
DAD: Why are you going to move in with them?
DEANA: That sounds exciting.
DAD: Nobody asked you.
HARRY: Dad!

I looked at Annie, whose eyes had suddenly gotten wide.

ANNIE: Butter going to move?

When she was little she couldn't say "brother," it always came out "butter," and for some reason it's always just been that. I knelt down next to her.

ME: Butter might, but he's not sure yet.
ANNIE: And I won't see you anymore?
ME: You will always see me no matter what. I will cling to you--

And I grabbed her and swung her around the room while she laughed. I could see that my Dad was not amused, but he wasn't my first concern.

ME: --until you're yelling, Butter stop!
ANNIE: Butter stop!

I put her down and gave Stacey a look.

STACEY: Annie, why don't we let brother talk to Daddy for a second, okay?
ANNIE: Okay.

Everyone but Dad left the room.

DAD: So you're going?
ME: It's not definite.
DAD: You won't go.
ME: How do you know that?
DAD: You were going to move before, and you didn't. For college.
ME: Because you--

I stopped myself.

DAD: Because I got sick.

All I could do was nod. I remember finding out I got into Emerson, and realizing that if I went and anything happened... Boston is just a stone's throw away from Providence, but when you're getting phone calls saying your father's been rushed to the hospital and he's unconscious--a stone's throw still seems to far.

DAD: You could have gone after college.
ME: That would be now.
DAD: Are you sure you could do it? You've never been on your own like that. No family nearby.
ME: I'll have Uncle Will.
DAD: Your uncle needs his own babysitter.
ME: I have to try, Dad.

My Dad seemed to take a moment, and then said.

DAD: If you go, don't come back.

I was stung. I couldn't believe what I just heard.

DAD: I don't mean you can't come back. What I mean is that no matter what happens, you have to stick with it. You can't keep looking behind you making sure everything stays where you left it. We'll all be okay here. You need to do what you need to do.

Every once in awhile, my Dad has one of these moments where I realize that he's not a bad guy. Don't get me wrong. He can be a downright terrible father, but overall he's not a bad guy. And it occurs to me that maybe he is trying his best, and that something like this is the best he can do with me.

JOEY: Should I pack this or give it away?
ME: What is it? Actually, if I have to ask 'what is it' you should probably just give it away.

Joey and I were at his place packing up all his things. He was moving in with his boyfriend, Bart, and I had agreed to help, even though I had some doubts on whether or not it was a good idea.

ME: Joey, do you ever worry that you might be moving a little too fast?
JOEY: With Bart? No.
ME: Um...it's just that, moving in is a big deal.
JOEY: I know.
ME: It's sort of--as far as you can go before...I don't know...marriage.
JOEY: But I love Bart.

Maybe my own insecurities about taking a step in a bold direction were the cause for doubting Joey's big step, but another part of me couldn't let the issue drop.

I had met Bart a few times, and even though he seemed like a great guy, he and Joey seemed far from a perfect match.

ME: How do you know it isn't just the convenience that you like--or the comfort?
JOEY: What else is there?
ME: Actual emotion.
JOEY: We have that, but even when we don't, we like being with each other. What more do you need than that?
ME: I don't know. I mean, I feel like with me... Well, with this place--I'm comfortable here. I like being here, but... I just feel like I can do better.
JOEY: A place is not a person, Kevin.
ME: Then why does it feel like I'm about to go through a break-up?

That day at the library, I had been thrown for a loop. I discussed the option of moving with the Golden Girls. They were hesitant to see me go.

MARTHA: Get the hell out of here as fast as you can.
ME: Does anyone have a 'That was easy' button?
DAISY: Everyone needs to spread their wings at some point in their life, Kevin.
MILLIE: And you should be spreading yours far away from here.

I was going to go into it further when I saw Library Boy in the fiction room.

ME: I'll be right back.

Okay, this was it. I was going to take that big step. If moving was in my future, I couldn't leave wondering what might have been with--

LIBRARY BOY: Hey Kev.
ME: Hey. Listen, I was wondering--
LIBRARY BOY: Kev, do girls usually like Nora Roberts?
ME: Um, yeah. Most of them. Getting something for your Mom?
LIBRARY BOY: No, my girlfriend.

Na-who-what-what? WHAT? WHAT?!?!

ME: Yeah...uh...most of them like Nora Roberts.
LIBRARY BOY: She's really particular though.
ME: I didn't know you--
LIBRARY BOY: She strikes me as an Anne Tyler type of person. She doesn't read much, but I'm trying to change that.
ME: How long have you been going out?
LIBRARY BOY: A couple of months.
ME: Oh.

That's all I could say--Oh. I mean, what else could you say?

CARLY: You say, Way to lead me on, asshole.

Carly and I were powerwalking in the park after I got out of work where I was recounting my Library Boy experience.

ME: You know, usually I have pretty decent gaydar. Enough to know when someone I've been madly in love with has a girlfriend.
CARLY: Forget about him. Think of all the boys you're going to meet when you move.
ME: If I move.
CARLY: Is this not an omen that you need to get out of here?
ME: I don't necessarily believe in omens.

Just then a magazine flew down the path we were walking and smack dab into my leg. I grabbed it and went to throw it in the nearest trash barrel when I noticed it was a Travel magazine.

ME: Okay, so maybe this does mean something.

Ring...Ring...Ring...

ME: Hello?
VOICE: Kevin?
ME: Yeah.
VOICE: It's Nick.
ME: Nick? NICK?
VOICE: Sorry to wake you up.
ME: Nick, where the hell have you been?
NICK: I can't really talk for very long. I just didn't want you to worry.
ME: Worry? I've been going crazy.
NICK: I have a lot to tell you.
ME: So tell--
NICK: I can't right now. I just wanted to let you know that I'm doing really well. A lot of good things are happening for me.
ME: Nick, where are you?
NICK: I'm in a better place, Kev. A much better place.
ME: But--
NICK: I'll talk to you again soon.

Click.

Silence.

Kevin?

ME: The...um...food. I'm thankful for the food.
AUNTIE DEB: Good start.
RORY: We're going to be here all day.
ROGER: Rory!
ME: I mean, it's...um...really good food.
GRANDMA: I made the stuffing.
ANTHONY: Can we eat the food now?

What else? What else do I have beside the food?

DEREK: Do you not like your linguine?
ME: No, it's fine.

Derek had invited me out to dinner and I said 'Yes.' Why not? Contemplating major life changes give you a sort of 'What the heck' attitude towards just about everything.

DEREK: If you move, there's no point starting a commitment with anyone here.
ME: You're absolutely right.
DEREK: So would you just want to have a fling while you're around?
ME: Absolutely not.
DEREK: You're a hard nut to crack, Kevin Broccoli.
ME: Eh, you're not much of a squirrel, Derek.

It was then that I remembered the night I finally won over Mr. Right. It was very much like Say Anything. I was standing underneath his window with a guitar, which is funny, because I don't actually play guitar. He opened the window and I launched into good old Sweeney.

ME:

No one's going to hurt you
Not while I'm around

MR. RIGHT: What are you doing? It's 1am.
ME:

No one's going to harm you, no sir
Not while I'm around

MR. RIGHT: Kevin, I am not Roxanne. This is insane.

ME:

Demons will charm you with a smile
For awhile...
I...I can't hit that note!!!

MR. RIGHT: Haha--

ME:

Nothing can harm you
Not while I'm around

MR. RIGHT: Get up here, you crazy bastard.

I guess that means I need to learn to play guitar. (Hey, as cheesy as that was, it could have been worse. I could have played "Fire and Rain.")

Kevin?

Aside from food, all I could think of were the typical things you should be grateful for--family, friends, good health--

ME: I'm grateful for family, friends, good health--

Something distinct.

ME: Um...I'm grateful for new opportunities.

You need some life experience that you're not going to get by staying where you are.

ME: Best friends.

Most people would kill for the chance to leave everything behind and start fresh.

ME: Good times.

Everything's an opportunity, right?

ME: Being given a blessing.

You need to do what you need to do.

ME: The chance to go in a new direction.

A place is not a person, Kevin.

ME: Much needed support.

Get the hell out of here as fast as you can.

ME: Hearing from people you haven't heard from in awhile.

I'm in a better place, Kev.

ME: Faith in good things to come.

Get up here.

ME: And...
DANNY: Amen.
ME: Yeah, Amen.
ALL: Amen.

It's funny how we set aside one day a year to really give thanks for all we've been given. Really, we should do it all the time. As things happen we should stop and say "This is a good thing. I should appreciate this."

Imagine how different life would seem if you really recognized all the reasons you're lucky...

UNCLE WILL: So, are you coming?

That would be a good rule to follow.

To Be Continued...

Thou Shalt (Try To) Honor Thy Father

2007-11-05T16:51:00.000-08:00

Five words to describe Mr. Theodore Colt, Nick's father:

1) A**hole
2) A**hole
3) A**hole
4) A**hole
5) A**hole

ADAM: Does that mean things didn't go well?
ME: Not at all, actually.

I had debated whether or not to go see Nick's family regarding his disappearance. I didn't want to worry them, but if they knew where he was, it could put this whole issue to rest. While I was wrestling with what to do, the problem was solved for me.

VOICEMAIL: Hi, this is Eugenia Colt, Nick's mother. He left this number with us and said you'd be by to pick up his belongings. Tuesday at four would be a good time for us. Have a good day.

It took me a second to realize it wasn't someone calling to find out when their dry-cleaning was going to be picked up. Mrs. Colt's voice was crisp and Connecticut-ian. Maybe Nick had alerted her that he was moving. Maybe, to her, it wasn't a disappearance at all. Either way, I was on my way to their house on Tuesday.

ADAM: And?
ME: That's where I met Teddy.

Mrs. Colt opened the front door. She was off and running on some sort of verbal tangent as she showed me around the house that Nick had lived in, but that I had never visited. It was the household of a wealth, which was surprising since Nick had never given anyone the impression that he was well off in any way.

It was in Nick's bedroom that we encountered Teddy.

Theodore "Teddy" Colt looked like a former linebacker. He's a big, foreboding man; the kind of man who runs a police force or kills for money.

And upon meeting him, he had a knife in his hand.

He motioned to me with the knife, and then stabbed a box on the floor which appeared to be filled with clothing.

TEDDY: What's he doing here?
EUGENIA: This is Nick's friend. He's here to get his things.
TEDDY: His things aren't going anywhere. You had no right to pack them either.
EUGENIA: Teddy, it's what he wants.
TEDDY: Damn what he wants!

Another stab wound in the box. I could imagine little slits being made in Nick's polos.

ME: I'm sorry, but where is Nick exactly?
TEDDY: You tell us. You're his--

He shuddered in disgust.

EUGENIA: Boyfriend, Teddy. He's his boyfriend.
ME: Excuse me?
EUGENIA: Teddy's still living in the 50's.
TEDDY: I don't have a problem with him being--you know--
EUGENIA: Gay.
TEDDY: Yeah, that. But I don't like my son lying to me and then skipping out in the middle of the night--
ME: What?
TEDDY: Then sending me a note saying he wants all his things packed up and given to somebody I haven't even met. If he wants his things, he's going to have to come and get them himself.
EUGENIA: Maybe if the last words you said to each other were screamed at the top of your lungs--
TEDDY: HE WAS SCREAMING, I--
EUGENIA: FINE!
ME: ONE SECOND!

They both looked at me.

ME: Have either of you talked to Nick since he left?
EUGENIA: He won't call. He's proud like his father.
ME: So you waited all this time to call me--
EUGENIA: We only just found the note when I started cleaning out his room the other day.
ME: Can I see the note?
TEDDY: I ripped it up. I won't bow down to what my son--
ME: It had my number on it?
EUGENIA: Yes.
ME: And he called me his boyfriend?
TEDDY: Look, I don't know what you people call each other--
ME: I'm not though. We're not dating. We're just friends.
EUGENIA: A more casual arrangement?
ME: No! No arrangement at all. And Nick hasn't spoken to me in months. I don't know why he'd want me to get his stuff and then not tell me where he was going.

Part of me worried that this would be when they'd freak out. They'd realize that their son had vanished and all hell would break loose.

EUGENIA: Well, I'm sure he's fine.

No such luck.

ME: Excuse me?
TEDDY: Nick used to do this all the time. Try to get us worried.
ME: Um, I'm worried.
EUGENIA: Don't be. He'll call eventually.
ME: But I--
EUGENIA: So you won't be getting his things?
ME: I--
TEDDY: Absolutely not! He doesn't even know where he is. How do we even know they were friends?

I was beginning to wonder that myself.

ADAM: Maybe you should start searching abandoned warehouses. Clearly this kid has gone off the deep end.
ME: Nick is not crazy, and he's not the type to do any of this. Why would he leave that note and then not call me to let me know what was going on?
ADAM: Do you think Teddy Pendergrass killed him and wrote the note as a decoy?
ME: How would that work?
ADAM: I don't know. You're the one who likes Angela Lansbury. You figure it out.
ME: I like Mame and Sweeney Todd Angela Lansbury, not Murder, She Wrote Angela Lansbury. I mean, I don't have anything against Murder, She Wrote Angela Lansbury, but--
ADAM: Is any of this really that surprising? Gays keep stuff from their parents all the time.
ME: I don't keep anything from my mom.
ADAM: What about your dad?
ME: Well, that's...different.

My father was the last person to find out I was gay. And he didn't take it...um...okay, "well" might not be the best--

DAD: Someone rip my heart out of my chest.

--Yeah, you get the point.

ADAM: So you don't think his family had anything to do with his disappearance?
ME: It's hard to say who or even why he might have disappeared. The whole thing is so confusing.
ADAM: Any chance of you giving up this wild goose chase and doing something productive with your time?
ME: Fat chance. I think this family angle may lead me to something significant.

Because, where there's family--

MOM: Airport security.

--There's trouble.

ROGER: You're not serious?

With Roger still out of work, and Christmas fast approaching, Mom's getting desperate. She's taken on extra-shifts at the hospital, and as for Bingo Night with Grandma--

Well, now she really tries to win.

And we've all been looking through the newspaper trying to find a new job for Roger. It's become our morning routine to spread out the Projo and scour it like its a page out of "Where's Waldo in the Classifieds?"

ME: Bookkeeper?
ROGER: I don't know how to bookkeep.
ME: It can't be that hard. They're just books.
DANNY: Youth minister?
ROGER: Danny, for the last time, that job doesn't pay.
DANNY: I think if you got back in with the Lord, maybe our luck would turn around.
ME: Do you have anything against being a pizza delivery guy?
ROGER: Besides the fact that I'm forty-five?
ME: How about just making the pizza?

Rory walked into the room still in his pajamas.

MOM: Rory, you have to leave for school in ten minutes.
RORY: I'm not going to school.
MOM: All right, let's hear it. Stomachache?
ME: Flu?
DANNY: Pop quiz in history?
ROGER: Earth science?

Without answering us, he sat down at the kitchen table and picked up the classified ads.

RORY: No, I'm going to get a job.
MOM: Don't be ridiculous. You're only thirteen.
DANNY: Besides, if Dad can't find a job what chance do you have.
RORY: Someone's gotta do something. We need money.
MOM: Honey, we're fine. Remember, I still have my job.
ROGER: And I'm going to get a new one soon, I promise. Even if it means airport security.
MOM: Now, c'mon. Time for school. Kev, don't forget to call the Troll today.

It's my father's birthday.

MOM: And tell him if he doesn't die by next year, I lose the ex-wife pool.
ME: Will do, Mom.

As she shuffled Rory off to get changed, I could see Roger's face fall.

ROGER: Good to know the kid's lost his faith in his old man.
ME: Roger, he's just worried. We all are, but everything's going to be fine. Besides, I think he has the right idea. Maybe I could start helping with some--
ROGER: No! Nobody is helping. We don't need any help. I can provide for this family just fine on my own.

With that, he got up and left the table.

ME: I didn't mean to make him mad.
DANNY: I think he was just afraid that his role as father was being challenged.
ME: By me?
DANNY: By all of us lately.

I guess it isn't always easy holding onto that position. Because it was my Dad's birthday, I decided my resolution would be to try--really try--to see the best in him. To honor my father in whatever way possible...

...This was going to be rough.

BETH: What about the Model House? Any new developments there?
ME: Actually, yes.

Blondie's parents had shown up the day before and they were already making waves. Blondie was bunking with Linda Cardellini, which must have been pretty awkward for her since she's sleeping with Punky, Linda's boyfriend. Her parents must be the conservative type, or so I thought, because The Greek didn't even attempt to sleep in the same room with him. Meanwhile, poor Odd Guy has the bedroom next door to Blondie's room, and I could tell he wasn't too happy with her parents' nighttime activities.

BETH: Shut up.
ME: Crazy sex.
BETH: What do you mean by crazy?
ME: Costumes.
BETH: In their daughter's bedroom?
ME: That seemed to be what was driving them the most.
BETH: And you watched this?
ME: Well, they're a very attractive couple.
BETH: Kevin!
ME: It was like a car crash! I couldn't look away!

I got all the way to the part where Blondie's Mom pretended to be Jennifer Connelly and her Dad was David Bowie before I had to bow out gracefully.

ME: I'm starting to wonder if anyone's parents are normal.
BETH: You think that's bad. You should meet Carlos' parents.
ME: Don't tell me you met them.
BETH: He needed me to be his beard.
ME: His what?
BETH: They don't know he's bisexual.
ME: So you weren't really a beard, you were more like a goatee.

Beth had worn her best outfit to the office when Mama and Papa Delgado walked in and immediately exclaimed--

PAPA D: White? She's white?
MAMA D: Ay, Carlos. What are you thinking?

Apparently they thought Beth was short for Bethita, or something.

BETH: So he got a new one.
ME: A new goatee?
BETH: Yup.
ME: Already? What did he tell his parents?
BETH: That I was an April Fool's joke.
ME: Well, that's got to make you feel good.
BETH: Did you ever try that with your Dad?
ME: Not really. I brought a girl to my sister's first birthday party and I remember him tearing up and then offering her my grandmother's wedding ring.
BETH: Wow.
ME: Yeah, Grandma wasn't too happy. She was still wearing the ring at the time, but Dad thought it was for the greater good.

When I arrived at work, the ladies were already in a stew--literally. They were all huddled around a pot of what looked to be beef stew.

ME: I see the cooking class went well last night.
MARTHA: This stuff is better than sex.
DAISY: Martha, you can't say that, you're out of date. They've come up with new positions since 1921.
MILLIE: Would you two shut up? You're ruining the stew.
ME: What did that lady put in it?

We had a woman come in and show the library patrons how to cook. Programs like that always tend to do well, but it had been awhile since the Golden Girls had been to anything like it.

MARTHA: It's her family's secret recipe. She made this batch just for us.
ME: Let me try it.
DAISY: Get your own!
ME: Daisy!
DAISY: I'm sorry. But there's only so much--
MARTHA: And we're old and going to die soon. We need our simple pleasures.
ME: Fine, keep your stew.

As I was putting my coat away, I ran into Library Boy. He had been avoiding me altogether since I gave him a rather blunt opinion regarding one of his poems.

LIBRARY BOY: Hey.
ME: Hey--ah.
LIBRARY BOY: I'm sorry?
ME: I always hate when people go 'Hey' and 'Hey.' They do it in every episode of every banal primetime soap opera. So I always try to vary it, but then, what can you say? You can't say 'Hi' or just 'How you doing?' 'Hey' does work for all intents and purposes, but I mean, it's still banal--so instead I just add an 'ah' at the end. So it's a little more friendly--'Heya.'

Did I really just say that?

LIBRARY BOY: Okay...ah.
ME: Really just...works for 'Hey.'

He laughed--thank God.

LIBRARY BOY: I just wanted to apologize for the way I acted about the poem.
ME: No, really, I should be apologizing--
LIBRARY BOY: Yeah, but let me go first.
ME: Okay.
LIBRARY BOY: You were being honest and I couldn't handle it. If I'm actually going to what I do I need to have a tougher skin.
ME: I have the same problem. Someone once called a performance I gave 'too over-the-top' and I printed out the article, pinned it to a voodoo doll of him, and burned the whole mass outside in my front lawn.
LIBRARY BOY: Really?
ME: Um...No! Just joshing you.
LIBRARY BOY: Okay.

Note to self: Keep things like that private.

Before we could continue, I was summoned to the desk by Millie. Apparently Vinny had showed up with more contract double talk.

VINNY: I figured out a way to get you girls--
ME: Cough cough.
VINNY: --And boy, some more money.

He put down a piece of paper in front of us.

ME: Wow, that's a pretty substantial raise.
MILLIE: How much more is it an hour?
VINNY: It doesn't work that way. It's a weekly raise.
DAISY: A weekly raise?
ME: Wait a second, you have us working more hours.
VINNY: And getting more money for it.
MARTHA: Of course we're getting more money, we're working more.
VINNY: Which is how you make more!
ME: I don't think so, Ebeneezer. We're not working more hours.
VINNY: It's a good deal!
DAISY: Keep this up and we're not giving you any stew.

Vinny reminds me a lot of my Dad. He could talk Nicole Ritchie into getting liposuction...Okay, I guess it might not be that hard to talk Nicole Ritchie into liposuction, but still--

JOEY: You know, before you started this blog, it seems like you had a lot of your Dad's old traits.
ME: Like what?
JOEY: Lying, lots of caffeine intake, hypocrisy--
ME: Okay, okay. I get it.
JOEY: But now you're changing, so yay you.
ME: I feel like all these nasty things have been uploaded into my mainframe.
JOEY: Get spyware.
ME: I was using a metaphor.
JOEY: Oh...Get spyware--metaphorically.
ME: I always thought there was no way I would end up like my Dad because I was gay, which would automatically make me his complete opposite, but I guess that's not the case.
JOEY: You mean your Dad's gay?
ME: No, I mean, it's not the case that we're not at all alike.
JOEY: Oh. So how are you celebrating his birthday?
ME: Family disputes and cake.
JOEY: I like cake.

Harry had made the decision that the perfect time to integrate his newly found child into the family would be at Dad's birthday party. Deana had started speaking to him again, but coolly, and Stacey and I were just trying to keep the peace by having Annie walk around and make knock knock jokes (Nobody fights in front of eight-year-olds, it's a fact.)

At seven o'clock, the doorbell rang.

ANNIE: I'll get it!
ALL: No!
ME: I'll get it, Annie.

I didn't want my sister coming face to face with her nephew before we could figure out a way to explain all this to her. Stacey had tried earlier, but when you can't come right out and say 'Your brother's a ho' it makes things a little difficult.

When I opened the front door, I had to remind myself that Harry was fifteen when he got this girl pregnant, which explained the girl standing in front of me who was actually older than Annie.

ME: Uh...hi. Hi there. Heya.

The woman standing behind her didn't look too friendly. She was in her late twenties, and was clearly not relishing the opportunity to reacquaint her daughter with her father.

BABY MAMA: You must be JR?
ME: That's me.
BABY MAMA: I'm Aimee, and this is Sarah.
SARAH: Are you my Dad?
ME: God no! I mean, I'm your Uncle...I guess.
SARAH: Can I go in now?
ME: Sure.

But both of them took a step forward.

ME: Um, sorry, but--
AIMEE: I'm not letting her go in there by herself. I don't know you people.
ME: The only thing is--Harry's fiancee is in there as well, and she's pregnant and--
AIMEE: I know all about it, but the only way he's seeing his daughter is with me there.

God, if only Sally Jesse Raphael were still on the air.

ME: I guess everybody's coming in then.

When I walked up the stairs with Sarah and Aimee, I could see everybody's mouth drop. But I trusted my family to handle this with maturity and poise.

HARRY: What the hell are you doing here?
AIMEE: I'm here to look out for my daughter.
DAD: And you're going to start now?
AIMEE: Don't you talk to me like that! You're just mad because I stopped taking your hush money.
DAD: No, you didn't. I stopped offering it. That's why you're here.
SARAH: Mommy, I don't like it here.
ANNIE: Then leave!

Great, now even Annie was getting in on the act.

ME: She's not leaving. She's family, which is exactly the reason I can't leave.
DEANNA: This is awful.
AIMEE: So this is the new victim, huh?
HARRY: Hey!
STACEY: If you're going to start trouble--
AIMEE: I'm not starting anything. And who are you? Girlfriend number three?
STACEY: I'm his stepmother!
AIMEE: Somebody's got an empty cradle.
DAD: Out! Get out!
AIMEE: If I go I'm taking Sarah with me.
DAD: Fine!
ME: Dad, no.
DAD: I don't need this on my birthday.
HARRY: Dad, you promised!

But my father never has been good with promises.

DAD: You want to see that bitch and her spawn, then you can do it on your own time. This is my birthday, and I want her gone.
AIMEE: With pleasure. Come on, Sarah.

But before she left, she threw one last parting shot.

AIMEE: By the way, new girl, how much did he offer you to get out?
DAD: BEAT IT!

And with that, they were gone.

ME: Well, that went well.

There was a brief moment of silence, and then Harry posed the question.

HARRY: Did you?
DAD: Did I what?
HARRY: Did you offer Deana anything?
STACEY: Harry--
HARRY: To go, did you?
DAD: Harry, of course I didn't--
DEANA: Ten--same thing he offered her.

Eesh...

HARRY: I'm out of here.
ME: Harry, it's Dad's birthday.
HARRY: I don't care if it's his f**king parade--
ME: Whoa!
HARRY: I'm out of here. Come on, Deana.

Then they were gone too.

STACEY: You didn't, Kev.
DAD: Hey, it worked with the first one.
STACEY: Annie and I are going to have some cake in her room. Let's go, sweetie.

And once again...

ME: Just me and you, Dad.
DAD: Eh, who needs 'em?

I stayed. I stayed because I was determined to love my father no matter what. Despite everything he's done, I would be here if it weren't for him, and that has to count for something, right?

...Right?

But by loving him was I condoning everything he's done? And could I do them one day? In some perverse attempt at helping my loved ones, could I end up just driving them all away?

CARLY: Kev, don't worry about becoming your father.
ME: You're right.
CARLY: Worry about marrying your father.
ME: F**k me.

Carly had to bring up the Freudian angle.

ME: You think I might be attracted to guys who are like my father?
CARLY: Tell me your type.
ME: Meditteranean, charming, 'I can take care of that' attitude...
CARLY: Wa la.
ME: Great. I'm screwed.
CARLY: So just do the opposite. Look for boys who don't possess those traits. Keeping you unlike your Dad won't be nearly as hard as keeping you away from boys like him. It's going to be a built in, instinctual attraction.
ME: That means I should stay far away from Derek.
CARLY: Let's no go crazy. Sexy is sexy.
ME: But you just said--
CARLY: I'll try and work my magic, but I can't make any promises.
ME: There must be somebody whose the opposite of what I want.
CARLY: Yeah, but with the World Chess Tournament going on, it might be hard to snag you someone.

Against my better judgement, I wound up calling Derek. When he didn't answer I ended up going to Coffee Exchange to catch up on my reading. Unfortunately for me, I had picked The Great Santini for my new book club selection, which isn't the best choice for someone dealing with father issues.

As soon as I received my mocha concoction, I got a text.

TEXT FROM DEREK: Come over.

I knew what that meant.

TEXT FROM ME: Come get coffee with me. Let's be civilized.
TEXT FROM DEREK: Let's f**k instead.
TEXT FROM ME: I want something better than this.
TEXT FROM DEREK: I don't know if I can promise that right now.
TEXT FROM DEREK: Is that okay? We can still have fun :o)
TEXT FROM DEREK: ?

But by that point, I had already decided not to answer. Derek was like my father. He wanted things his way, and thought a flash of a smile was all it took to get them.

All this was making me wonder what kind of father I would be one day.

JEFF: Kev, we worry about that, too.
UNCLE WILL: Part of me doesn't know if I'm ready.
ME: So should you be doing it?
UNCLE WILL: That's the thing. I can't see myself ever being fully ready, but I know I want kids, so if I wait until I'm ready--
JEFF: It'll never happen.
ME: I just don't know if I'd repeat all the same mistakes my Dad did.
JEFF: Don't worry. You'll probably just end up making new ones.
UNCLE WILL: I think the key thing is to remember that your parents didn't go completely wrong.
JEFF: Don't throw up the baby with the bathwater.
ME: You mean throw 'out' the baby with the bathwater.
JEFF: Okay, that makes a lot more sense.

When I got home that night, I was exhausted. Mom was sitting at the kitchen table doing the budget. She also had one eye on Model House.

ME: Anything new?
MOM: Odd Guy caught Marilyn and Sid Viscious again.
ME: Are you serious?
MOM: They were going at it in the living room while everyone else was sleep. I think Blondie gets her sex drive from her parents.
ME: And how did Odd Guy catch them?
MOM: He was sleeping on the couch. I guess he can't get any rest with the Mr. and Mrs. Howell going at it next door to him.
ME: Okay, that's enough of that.

I sat down next to her and watched her crunch numbers.

ME: Mom, do you think I'll end up like Dad?
MOM: Absolutely not. You're nothing like your father.
ME: Actually, in a lot of ways, I am--was--Oh, I don't know.
MOM: You want to know the key difference to being someone different than your Dad?
ME: Please.
MOM: Realizing that it's important to be different. To do things differently. The problem with your father isn't what he does, it's that he won't admit that what he does is wrong.

And as I let that sink in, I realized that what she was saying is the key reason I'm doing all this. I want to acknowledge that how I was living before was the wrong way to live, and I want to try to do things a new way. My way.

ME: Maybe I'll be lucky and be like you, Mom.
MOM: Broke and bitter?
ME: And a good person.

Maybe the trick to not growing up to be like one parent is to admit that the other is one worth emulating.

Thou Shalt Not Lie

2007-10-27T09:21:00.000-07:00

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.

Thou Shalt Grant Freebies

2007-10-20T10:51:00.000-07:00

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.

Thou Shalt Run For Your Life

2007-10-13T08:29:00.000-07:00

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.

Thou Shalt Not Meddle

2007-10-08T00:02:00.000-07:00

This is the week I stopped meddling.

For those of you who read last week's entry and are saying--But wait, aren't meddling and judging really similar? Well, meddling is like judging--only the next step. Meddling is active judging. It's putting your judging skills to the test. So Kevin, you say, since you gave up judging--wouldn't meddling go with it?

Yeah, it's not that simple.

ADAM: Explain this to me.
ME: Apparently you can meddle without judgment.
ADAM: Of course you can. It's called manipulation. It's my favorite party game.
ME: No more of that for me. From now on, I'm going to let people live and...um...let live.
ADAM: So you're not going to give your opinion anymore?
ME: No.
ADAM: Interfere in other people's lives?
ME: Nope.
ADAM: Tell me when I'm making the wrong decision as I'm walking into a taken guy's house at 2am slightly tipsy and poised to strike?
ME: That one might be harder to give up, but I'll manage.
ADAM: You're never going to be able to keep this up.
ME: Watch me, Madam.

But this time, and I don't say this often, Madam may have been right...

I woke up and began my new life as a meddlesome free person confident that I could achieve my new goal. That lasted until breakfast when I walked into the living room to find Rory and Mom looking out the window with the blinds closed. It was then I knew this day was going to be--

RORY: Here comes another one.

--Noteable.

ME: Another what? Police officer up the walk coming to take you two away?

Mom flipped around looking guilty. Rory, however, didn't budge.

MOM: Good morning, honey. Do you want breakfast?
ME: Don't try sweet talking me, Peeping Tomasina. What I want to know is if Roger's outside on the branches of a nearby tree with a pair of binoculars.
RORY: Shut up. I can't concentrate.
ME: On what?
MOM: We have new neighbors.
ME: Congratulations Mom, it's happened. You're a desperate housewife.
RORY: Kev, they're amazing.
VOICE: Oh God, not the neighbors.

Danny was walking in from the porch after doing his morning prayers. Don't ask me why he does them outside...Something about communing with nature, and blah blah blah--

DANNY: You've been watching them for two days now. Give it a rest.
ME: Two days? Are they Kennedys?
RORY: Better--come look.

I decided to see what all the fuss was about. Apparently, the Real World's standards have gotten so low they're doing one in Johnston, Rhode Island. Across the street from me where Mrs. Brennan with the one eye used to live--she now lives in Florida where I would imagine she continues to raise cats and give two-dollar haircuts--there now resided four gorgeous college-age kids. There was a blonde girl with a perfect body, a Mediterranean boy with a perfect body, a punk-rock looking boy with red and blue hair who resembled Jonathan Rhys-Meyers, and a studious looking brunette who was totally working the Linda Cardellini look. There was also a fifth roommate--a not-so-hot guy in major need of one of Mrs. Brennan's haircuts and a visit from the Queer Eye guys.

I knew all this because they were all sitting together in their kitchen eating breakfast, which I have a perfect view of from my living room.

ME: Wow.
RORY: It's like Newport Beach--minus Odd Guy.
ME: I hope you're not actually referring to him as Odd Guy?
RORY: Who else would I be talking about?
MOM: I wonder how they met him.
ME: Yes, because people that beautiful don't interact with the outside world.
MOM: That's not what I meant. They just all seem to be so much more, um--
DANNY: I think they're students.
ME: Students where? We don't live near a college.
RORY: Maybe they go to RIC.
ME: I went to RIC. People who go to RIC don't look like that, trust me. People who look like that go to beaches in Miami and do calendar shoots.

I had to admit--I was a little fascinated by the Model 4 Plus 1, but I had other things to do today--or rather, things not to do, since I planned on being a model of my own--a model non-meddler.

ME: I'm going to be late for work. Rory, keep the stalking to a minimum.
RORY: You know, you always tell me to get a hobby and then when I do--
ME: Mom, try not to encourage this too much.
DANNY: At least he's not setting anything on fire.
RORY: Kev, you should go talk to them. Find out about them--like why they're friends with Odd Guy.
ME: Absolutely not. I'm not going to insert myself into the lives of our hot new neighbors--not even the life of the one with the really nice tan.
MOM: He has a six pack. I saw it when he was doing sit-ups in his room this morning.

Awkward silence.

DANNY: Good to know my prayers for all of you are working.

So far I had avoided meddling once today--if you can even consider that meddling--but it was clear harder challenges were ahead of me.

Before I had even gotten to work, I was faced with the opportunity to put my two cents in on a Beth predicament.

BETH: Tell me to quit my job.
ME: Beth, I can't do that.
BETH: Kevin, my boss is a nightmare.

Beth's boss is a flamboyant man named Carlos who always seems to get under her skin with minor little catty comments.

For example:

CARLOS: Beth, when I asked you to file those forms, I meant alphabetically--not in Beth's Magical Mystery Order, which it seems is any which way but loose.

...And...

CARLOS: Beth, are you taking another smoking break? Something tells me you're going to give our health insurance provider a run for its money sometime in the near future.

...And who could forget...

CARLOS: Beth, that outfit again...really?

So, it wasn't that I didn't think Beth should quit and tell Carlos to take the job and snap snap shove it. I just decided it wasn't my business to say.

BETH: But I'm asking your opinion!
ME: But my opinion isn't needed. You should just do what you want to do.
BETH: I want to run over his mailbox!
ME: Okay, well...Do you want to go to jail?
BETH: See, that was helpful. You dissuaded me from doing something illegal.
ME: No, I didn't. I just asked an innocent question that led you to a reasonable answer.
BETH: Fine, Broccoli, we'll play it your way. Ask me if I want to quit my job.
ME: Do you?
BETH: I don't know! Tell me what to do!
ME: Beth, you already know what you want to do, you're just asking me because you're second-guessing yourself.
BETH: You're right.

I heard a bump on the other end of the line.

ME: Tell me that wasn't his mailbox.
BETH: I can't confirm or deny anything.

My convo with Beth made me five minutes late for work. Luckily, the place is dead on Fridays so it wasn't like the place was overflowing with work that needed to be done.

MARTHA: Well, look who's gracing us with his presence.
ME: If you're not good, you don't get the donuts I brought.
MARTHA: There's the grandson I never had!

I handed out the chocolate frosted goods and went to work. Downstairs Daisy was substituting for the children's librarian who had called out sick. That's right. Daisy was doing Story Time. I found her reading of Where the Wild Things Are to be particularly engaging.

DAISY: Now, I might change this part around a little bit only because I don't want any of you to get scared.
LITTLE BOY: I won't get scared. My Mommy lets me watch Saw.
DAISY: Is that on Nickelodeon?
LITTLE GIRL: I like Hostel!
DAISY: Let's see what happens to Max. I hope he doesn't get eaten by the big hairy men.

I was going to step in and take over, but today I wasn't meddling. Meanwhile, Millie was in the fiction room weeding out the Steinbeck.

MILLIE: Is Cannery Row any good?
ME: It's a classic.
MILLIE: Not in Johnston it's not.

In Johnston, Jackie Collins' Hollywood Wives is a classic.

I was going to offer to help find some of the less desirable books in our collection (I was dying to get rid of half the Danielle Steel) but again, that would be meddling. So instead I went looking for a lost copy of The Virgin Suicides when I ran into...him.

He was standing in front of the the 'M's and I saw him pick out Gorgeous Lies and read the summary, after which he scooped it under his arm, thereby showing his good taste in contemporary literature.

I went to move back behind one of the stacks so that I wouldn't be found just standing there staring at him when I literally walked into the bookshelf instead, toppling over three Salmon Rushdie novels (Sorry Satanic Verses.)

He turned and saw me standing there with a pile of books at my feet and he did the most wonderful thing--he smiled. I smiled back, and then went to walk forward and tripped over Haroun and the Sea of Stories. Library Boy literally had to stop me from falling right on top of him.

ME: Sorry.
LIBRARY BOY: Don't worry about it.
ME: I just took out Salmon Rushdie.
LIBRARY BOY: I saw. I think you may be able to collect a reward from the Ayatollah.

Be still my heart.

ME: Can I help you find anything?
LIBRARY BOY: Actually I was looking for George Saunders.
ME: I think he's from Manhattan.
LIBRARY BOY: I mean, where in the library to find George Saunders.
ME: Oh...right.

Eesh...

ME: We actually don't have any of his books, but I'd be happy to put one on hold for you.

I'd be happy to put my life on hold for you actually. I can have it sent to you from any library in the state.

LIBRARY BOY: That would be great. I've been dying to read In Persuasion Nation.
ME: I just finished that! It's excellent.
LIBRARY BOY: Well, now I have to read it, since it comes highly recommended from a hired assassin.

I laughed...a little too hard.

Back at the Circ desk, I relayed the details of my meeting with Library Boy. The ladies were mostly encouraging.

MARTHA: You don't sound like you made too big a fool out of yourself.
ME: I know, right?
DAISY: Did he end up checking anything out?
ME: Yeah. He took out Talk Talk.
MILLIE: Isn't that your Book Club book for this month?
ME: Possibly.
MARTHA: Did you try to get him to join Book Club so you could see him again?
ME: I didn't try anything... I just happened to drop a Book Club flyer in front of him.
MARTHA: You know, sometimes, you remind me of that old movie star--
ME: Jimmy Stewart?
MARTHA: No, Eve Arden.

Hey, I'll take that. She was a fine looking woman in her prime.

While I discussed the plans for Library Boy and myself, I decided to check my e-mail (because that's how professional I am). There was the usual mix of spam, marriage proposals from loyal blog readers (by the way, yes Carter from Des Moines, I will be your life partner) and a rather curious e-mail from Nick, one of my good friends.

If you're not sure who Nick is, he's all over the other blog (www.100dates100boys.blogspot.com).

Nick is generally a really quiet person. Very laid back. Of all my friends, he's definitely the least flashiest. Getting an e-mail from him was a little strange. It just seemed way too formal. Especially since I had just talked to him last week.

It was a group e-mail and it read as follows:

To All My Friends,

I've been going through a really rough time recently with some personal issues that many of you do not know about, but that I don't feel are worth discussing at this point in time. I'm going to be going away for awhile, and I just wanted to let you all know I'm fine, and that I'll try to stay in touch if I can.

All My Love,
Nick

Uh...what?

CARLY: Sounds like he's pulling a Greta Garbo.
ME: Clearly.
CARLY: So give him what he wants.
ME: I don't get it, though. We're good friends. If there was a problem why didn't he tell me?
CARLY: Kevin, not everyone likes talking about their problems.
ME: Are you serious?
CARLY: I know, I find it hard to believe, too.
ME: How does he know I can't help him if he won't even give me a chance?
CARLY: Hey, aren't you done with meddling?
ME: Yes, yes, you're right. I'll leave it alone.
CARLY: Terrific, because I have a brand new idea to jumpstart your blog.
ME: Carly, I think the blog is going fine.
CARLY: Let's not kid ourselves here, Broccoli. Attach the paddles and yell 'Clear.'
ME: Clear.
CARLY: Here's the idea--

This Fall...

ME: I think this frog needs to kiss a few more princes.

From the Creator of 100 Dates, 100 Boys...

ME: If at first you don't succeed...

Comes a new take on Kiss and Tell!

ME: ...Make out with 100 more boys!

100 Boys

ME: And this time--

100 Kisses

ME: There will be a winner.

1 Winner for Top Kisser

ME: Pucker up, boys.

100 Boys, 100 Kisses

ME: Mwuah.

Produced by Carly

Silence
Silence
More Silence

CARLY: So? What do you think?
ME: Um, I don't...hate it.
CARLY: Do you like the new slant?
ME: It sounds like a sluttier version of the dating blog.
CARLY: That's the point!
ME: I'm not sure I could find 100 boys I'd be interested in kissing.
CARLY: Don't worry. I'm giving you plenty of time to get it done. I figured we could unveil the winner at next June's pride.
ME: There's going to be a winner?
CARLY: Of course! Kevin, this is a competition. The person you feel is the best kisser wins the title and perhaps some sort of goodie bag, I'm still in negotiations with Coach and Banana.
ME: But Carly--
CARLY: We could even send you out to do press for it. Philadelphia, New York, Toronto, Minneapolis, Boise--
ME: Boise?
CARLY: You're huge in Idaho.

While Carly detailed the plans of my North American tour--at one point she suggested I open for the Twisted Sister reunion shows--I headed home for dinner.

When I got there, Rory was still sitting in front of the window staring at the Model House.

ME: Any new developments?
RORY: No, but I did figure out some of the relationships.
ME: Fine, it's been a long day. I'll bite. Who's dating who?
RORY: Blondie is with the Greek.
ME: That bitch.
RORY: And Smart Girl is dating Punky.
ME: So Odd Guy is single?
RORY: Does that surprise you?
ME: Poor bastard.

As I was sitting down to some lo mein, the phone rang. When I saw whose number it was on my caller ID, I nearly hit Reject. But, being the dutiful brother that I am, I picked up.

ME: Hi Harry, what's up?

Harry is my older half-brother. Before my Dad married my Mom, he was married to another woman and had a child--my brother Harry. They got divorced--it was particularly nasty. So much so that Harry's mom changed his last name. (Sometimes I'm a little bit envious of the fact that he got to rid himself of Broccoli.)

He appeared in my life when I was seven, but only for a brief moment when my Dad decided it was time to meet him. Apparently it took seven years for Harry's mother to cool off enough to let him meet his younger brother. By that point, however, Danny had already been born, and I felt a much greater kinship to the little newborn than to this eleven-year-old boy that my father told me was family.

I don't mention Harry when people ask me how many siblings I have. We barely saw each other over the years until he turned twenty, and started trying to become a part of my Dad's life again. It used to be a real sore spot between me and my father, since I always thought it was awful of him not to fight for joint custody of Harry, but Dad always acts as if that's something I don't need to know about.

Yeah, it's complicated.

But now Harry calls me once a week--usually to ask for something. It's not always money, sometimes it's just little favors here and there. I can't say he's grown up to be the most exemplary guy, which was why I was more than a little upset when he told me--

HARRY: You're going to be an uncle.
ME: Uncle who--wait, what?

I actually looked over at Rory to see if that was who he was talking about. Had Rory already gotten someone pregnant? I mean, I knew it was going to happen eventually but--

HARRY: Deena's pregnant.

Deena is Harry's incredibly sweet girlfriend. I instantly felt really sorry for her.

ME: Did you plan this?
HARRY: No, but we're both mad happy about it. I bought cigars and everything.
ME: Have you thought about other things you may need to buy--like a house?
HARRY: Haha, good one, Kev.
ME: How pregnant is Deena?
HARRY: Three months.
ME: Three months?! And you're just telling people now?
HARRY: No! I'm not telling people. I'm telling you. And you can't tell Dad. He'll flip.
ME: What do you plan on doing once she's born? Telling him you just like pushing around a carriage for fun?

Part of me wanted to scream at the top of my lungs--You cannot keep this baby! You will destroy it's life. You will create another messed up human being to walk the earth and mumble to themselves!

But then I remembered my resolution.

And instead I took another high road and said--

ME: Harry, I can't lie to Dad. I wouldn't feel comfortable doing that.
HARRY: I'm not saying you have to say Deena's not pregnant. Just don't say anything at all.
ME: Harry--
HARRY: When do I ever ask you for anything?
ME: You asked me for twenty bucks last week.
HARRY: Anything important.
ME: I just don't--

Then I realized all the times Dad had slightly manipulated the truth where I was concerned--

DAD: I would have called you on your birthday, but I was on a secret government mission.
DAD: You'll die if a cat sneezes on you.
DAD: Your mother didn't just leave you here for the weekend; she moved to Beijing.

--And suddenly, I thought, What the hell?

ME: Fine. I won't say anything.
HARRY: You rock, Kev. You're going to make a great uncle.
ME: I'll start stocking up on nickels in my ear.

It's not that I wasn't thrilled to have a little niece or nephew on the way; it's just that it felt like it wasn't the real deal. Harry had been such a late addition to my life that everything about our relationship just felt fake.

Still, it gave me a legitimate reason to try contacting Nick. I had no intentions of meddling and telling him that he should have given me and his other friends more of a heads up before disappearing. All I was going to do was update him on my new gay uncle status and wish him luck on all his future endeavors.

But when I tried to send him an e-mail, I got the mailer demon back. He had deleted his e-mail address. Not only that, his myspace and facebook profiles were gone.

Now, I understand starting a new life, but who the hell gets rid of their facebook? That's like deleting your soul!

JOE: Maybe he wants a fresh start.
ME: If you want a fresh start, you get a new haircut. You don't erase yourself from the mainframe.
JOE: Kevin, all he did was delete an e-mail address and two online profiles. He didn't burn down his house and kill his family.
ME: We don't know that. I don't know anything his family or the possibly burned down house they live in.
JOE: You have no idea why he'd take off like this?
ME: Not a clue. Why would anyone take off like this? Have you ever done anything like that?
JOE: One time, I went to the mall and I didn't tell anyone.
ME: And that set off sirens all across Rhode Island I'm imagine.
JOE: Yeah...I had like...twelve text messages.
ME: And did you feel bad about making your friends worry?
JOE: Oh, nobody was worried. The text messages were about my new facebook photo. It was after I had let myself get a little scruffy. It was a big hit.

Wait a second--Text messages! Perfect. I sent Nick a text--no dice. When trying to phone him I discovered that the number had been disconnected.

What the hell was going on here?

Before I could think any more about it, my phone rang--it was Dad. I was determined to keep my promise and not spill Harry's secret until he was ready to tell our father.

ME: Hi Dad.
DAD: She's pregnant, isn't she?

F**k me.

ME: What? Who's pregnant?
DAD: Don't play dumb with me. The only person in this family that's a better liar than you is me, so talk.
ME: Dad, I can't do that.
DAD: Do I have to get your Uncle Vito and the backroom of a bar involved?
ME: Dad!
DAD: How could he be so irresponsible?
ME: Gee, I don't know. Maybe he learned from the best?
DAD: So that's an admission.
ME: An admission that Harry is irresponsible? Yes, I'll admit to that.
DAD: He comes over here asking if we have any of Annie's baby clothes still hanging around and he doesn't think I'll know what's going on. Asking for baby clothes. That moron.
ME: And what did he say he was asking for?
DAD: Said he wanted to give them to charity.

Bad lie. Really bad lie.

ME: Maybe he's taking on a more generous outlook towards life.
DAD: Or maybe he forgot to wrap it before he tapped it.
ME: Please never use that expression again.
DAD: I'm too friggin' young to be a grandfather!
ME: You were too young to be a father; that would just be the next step in the process--hypothetically speaking.
DAD: You should talk to him about this. Tell him to consider the options.
ME: No way, Dad. I've given up meddling with people. From now on I'm keeping my mouth shut.
DAD: Fine, but Kev, promise me one thing. Promise me you'll never get a girl pregnant until after you marry her.
ME: Gay gay gay, Dad. Remember? Interior design, Bravo, Cher--
DAD: Doesn't mean anything. Girls are tricky. They'll trick you.
ME: Yes, Dad, I'm sure Deana had to use a lot of smoke and mirrors to get Harry in bed.
DAD: Is that what you kids are into today? Smoke and mirrors?
ME: Get some sleep, Grandpa. I'll talk to you tomorrow.

I finished talking to Dad just as my Mom was coming into the kitchen.

MOM: Your father is going to be a Grandpa?
ME: Yes, Mom. Harry's having a baby.
MOM: Oh, thank you Lord, for making him old before me. The jokes shall be bountiful.
ME: Great. Now my biting wit is rubbing off on you.

That night I went out with Adam, Joe, and Beth. At the club, I had to put my new non-meddling skills to the test.

ADAM: That guy's hot.

No he's not. He's strung out on something--maybe lighter fluid.

ME: Mmm...

BETH: I think I'm going to take a cigarette break.

Don't do it! If your lungs were children, DCYF would have seized them already!

ME: Cool.

JOE: I have to use the men's room.

NO! GERMS! UGLY GUYS CHECKING OUT YOUR JUNK WHILE YOU PEE! GERMS!

ME: Okay.

This was going to be harder than I thought. At one point, a guy approached me.

GUY: Hey, you're Kevin, right?
ME: Um...yes.
GUY: I love your blog.
ME: Oh, thank you so much.
GUY: It's really clever.
ME: That's so nice of you to say.

I shot Adam the 'Ha Ha, I'm Famous' look, and he shot me the 'You're a Dorky Tool Who Writes About Biting Your Nails' look.

GUY: So, can I try?
ME: Try what?
GUY: The Kissing contest.
ME: You want to--I'm sorry, I'm very confused.
GUY: I get one try, right? One entry. I already have chapstick on. I think that might put me over the edge.
ME: Carly's idea? How did you hear about that?
GUY: I'm friends with her on Myspace and she posted a bulletin about it.
ME: Oh geez--
GUY: My friends tell me I'm an amazing kisser. I use a lot of lower lip.
ME: Well tempting as that sounds, I think I may have to--
GUY: Aw, c'mon--

And before I could say another word, I had been pulled in for the lip lock. It last about thirty seconds and wasn't altogether unenjoyable, although I was going to have to mention to Carly that I would not be kissing 99 more random strangers.

When the kiss was over, the guy shook my hand and said--

GUY: Trevor. The name's Trevor. Just so you have it right when you crown me winner. I'll message you my e-mail address.
ME: Um, thank you...Trevor. You may just win by default.

I looked over at Adam who was now giving me the--

ADAM: You're a skank.

Yeah, that look.

Across the club I spotted the guy Nick had been seeing for awhile. His name is Juan, and he's a local college student. I only met him a few times, but he seemed like a relatively nice guy. I figured if anyone knew where Nick was and what was going on with him, it would be Juan.

I made my way over, but before I could even get there, Juan spotted me and seemed to be searching for an escape route. Luckily, I moved too fast and before he could go anywhere I was standing right in front of him.

ME: Hey Juan.
JUAN: Hi--Kevin, right?
ME: Yeah, Nick's friend.
JUAN: Riiight.

I detected some hostility.

ME: Speaking of Nick, I got his message, but now there doesn't seem to be any way to contact him. His phone number--
JUAN: Yeah, he left my house the night before he sent that message out. We had a big fight and I told him I never wanted to see him again. Maybe that's why he spazzed.
ME: A fight? What was the--
JUAN: Really none of your business. Unless Nick wants to tell you, in which case--
ME: I would love for him to tell me, but he seems to have vanished into thin air.
JUAN: Don't be so dramatic. No wonder you two are friends. You have that in common.

With that, he walked away. There was a part of me that wanted to grab him by his little vanity "Push My Button" t-shirt and yank him back, but I thought better of it.

There was something about all this that was really unsettling to me.

Unfortunately, before I could think of what to do about it, the phone rang.

ME: Hi Uncle Will.
UNCLE WILL: Your Mom told us the good news.
JEFF: Congratulations Uncle Kevin!

This is why I don't talk to my mother. Harry's baby was probably going to be the headline of the New York Post tomorrow.

ME: Thank you for the well wishes, but keep it on the downlow.
UNCLE WILL: Aren't you excited?
ME: Well, it's Harry's kid.
JEFF: So what? He's going to let you see it, isn't he?
ME: See it? Are you kidding? He probably already has me booked to babysit the kid for the first six months until the kid learns to crawl, speak, and support itself financially.
UNCLE WILL: Just be supportive. This baby is going to need all the love it can get.
ME: I know, I know. I need to stop being so selfish and look on the bright side of things.
JEFF: Ironically, we've got a big announcement of our own.
ME: You finally figured out the secret to Aunt Dana's peach cobbler?
JEFF: No, but if that hag knows what's good for her she'll give it up soon.
UNCLE WILL: Jeff--
JEFF: Oh, right. We're adopting!

Hold me closer, Tiny Dancer.

That night when I got home, Mom was sitting by the window watching the Model House.

ME: Mom, it's 2am.
MOM: They all went to bed except for the strange one.
ME: His name is Odd Guy, Mom.
MOM: There was a scandal earlier tonight. Roger told me about it.
ME: You've got him watching too?
MOM: Let me have some joy in life, will you?

I got out the cheese block.

ME: Thanks for telling Uncle Will and Jeff about the baby, by the way.
MOM: It just slipped out when they told me they were adopting.
ME: I don't know how this happened. My life has turned into thirtysomething--and I'm still only twentysomething.
MOM: You don't think your Uncle having a baby is a good idea?
ME: I don't think anybody in my life having a baby is a good idea. I don't think solving your problems by taking off to who knows where is a good idea. I don't think kissing strangers is a good idea. And I don't think spying on your neighbors is a good idea.
MOM: So say something about it.
ME: I just did. But I can't otherwise because then I'll be meddling and I'm not going to meddle.
MOM: Why not?
ME: Because I can't keep inserting myself into other people's business.
MOM: Great. Let me know when they make you a saint.

Mom got up and gave me a hug.

MOM: Make sure you turn the light off after you finish with your cheese.
ME: I will.
MOM: For what it's worth, I think it's nice that you try to help when you can.
ME: It's not always that selfless, Mom.
MOM: Maybe not, but at least your heart's in the right place.

She started to walk away, and then my curiosity got the best of me.

ME: Hey Mom?
MOM: Yeah?
ME: What was the scandal?
MOM: Oh...Saint Kevin wants to--
ME: Oh, just tell me, Joan Crawford.

My mother grinned like the Cheshire Cat. She lives for this stuff.

MOM: The Dumb Blonde and the Boy with the Weird Hair--
ME: Blondie and Punky.
MOM: Right. They were making out in the kitchen while the other two were out somewhere and Odd Guy caught them.
ME: Shut up!
MOM: I'm thinking of bringing over a cake tomorrow, but Rory says if I do that I'll contaminate the environment.
ME: What?
MOM: He says it's like National Geographic. If you stop the leopard from eating the lion cub, you've spoiled the whole thing.

She shrugged, patted my arm, and left. I looked out the window at Odd Guy in the living room watching television. I thought I could see a look on his face. That look you have when you're dealing with some you can't deal with because you're not supposed to be dealing with it in the first place.

Yeah, that sounds right.

I looked at him and thought, I know how you feel, Odd Guy. I know exactly how you feel. How do you not involve yourselves with other people's lives? Isn't that what being human is all about? Connecting with people? Becoming a part of their existence? How do you sit back and watch them do something you think will hurt them? How do you sit by and watch when they fall down--make mistakes...

Then I thought of my new niece or nephew. How I'll have to do exactly that. I'll have to let this baby make its own mistakes. Do its own thing. Lead its own life. And I realized...

I need to learn to get used to that.

Thou Shalt Not Judge

2007-09-28T14:06:00.000-07:00

At exactly 2:04 am, I stopped judging.

I was sitting in my car outside my house with the key in the ignition. In my hand was a cell phone. The cell phone had an open text message from my inbox displayed that read "Come over." It was from someone I should not be associating with at this point in time--or at any point in time.

The funny thing is--and I know it was funny, because I laughed when I thought of it--had any of my friends been in this situation my response would have been--

HYPOTHETICAL ME: Oh my God! Are you crazy? You're not going to do this. Ugh, I can't believe you. What is it going to take to get you to act like an adult?

And on, and on, and on...

So in that moment, I realized two--no, three--things:

1) I'm a hypocrite.
2) A judgmental hypocrite is the worst kind of hypocrite.
3) In addition to giving up being judgmental, I also needed to stop checking my text messages at 2am.

ADAM: So did you go over the guy's house?
ME: No. I went back inside and ate a block of cheese.
ADAM: Ew, you need help.
ME: But the point I'm making is, in the past I totally would have gone over his house. I felt vulnerable, needy, and insecure. I would have hooked up with him and then not told anybody all the while judging away. Well, no more. From this point on, I'm not going to judge anybody anymore for any reason.
ADAM: You're full of it.
ME: Try me.
ADAM: I shoplifted a soda from the store today.
ME: You're not serious.
ADAM: I am. I took the soda and walked out.
ME: Didn't any of the alarms go off?
ADAM: Nope. Guess I got lucky.
ME: Well, that's...Do you do this often?
ADAM: Occasionally.
ME: Okay.
ADAM: No comment?
ME: Adam, you're a big boy. If you want to--

Now wait a minute! My mind was trying to play a trick on me. It was trying to sneak out a judgment. I was about to say:

HYPOTHETICAL ME: If you want to risk getting arrested and ruining your future for a bottle of soda which you can clearly afford just for some cheap thrill, then go ahead. Steal a pack of gum while you're at it, or a copy of Men's Vogue.

But that would still be judging. So instead I said--

ME: Hey, it's your life.

That would become my new mantra.

Hey, it's your life.

I was finally one of those cool laidback people who don't care about anything anybody does. I was a hippie! Now all I had to do was stop bathing.

Wait! That's a judgment! A judgment about hippies.

This was going to be tricky.

RORY: I'm not going to school.
ME: That's cool, Rory.

The next morning before everyone headed out for work and school--or didn't head anywhere in Rory's case--I unveiled my new, non-judgey self to my family. My mother was making breakfast--Frosted Flakes--for everyone, Danny was reading his Bible, and Roger, my stepfather, was reading the newspaper.

Instead of them being shocked that Rory had just declared his intent to skip school, they all turned and cast their mortified eyes at me.

MOM: Kevin, did you just tell your brother it would be 'cool' if he skipped school?
ME: I don't actually mean I think it's cool, Mom. I'm just deciding not to pass a judgment on him about it. It's his life.
ROGER: Maybe you should stay home, too, Kev. You sound a little feverish. By the way, Rory, if you don't go to school, I'm taking away drumming privileges.
DANNY: Oh please, just take them away anyway. I haven't slept well in weeks thanks to Tommy Lee and his set of devil bongo's.

My mother wasn't letting go of the subject--namely my new attitude shift.

MOM: So you don't care that you brother could become a truant?
DANNY: He already is a truant.
MOM: Isn't someone supposed to be reading about Jesus?
DANNY: I'm reading the Old Testament today.
MOM: What's your point?
ME: Mom, if you want to discipline Rory or demand that he do what he's supposed to, that's fine, but that's not my job. My job as his brother is just to love him and let him know I support him with no judgment attached.
RORY: Mom, I think he's been looking through my drawers again, because I definitely have some stuff in there that could be making him talk like this.

So my family wasn't taking the new me as well as I had hoped, but surely my friends would appreciate my new view on life.

BETH: Kevin, I had a cigarette today.
ME: Okay.
BETH: Did you forget something?
ME: That you were supposed to quit smoking? No, I didn't forget.
BETH: Then...why aren't you angry?
ME: Why would I be angry? I'm assuming you wanted a cigarette.
BETH: Yeah, I really did.
ME: And you had one. Now you're happy. So why would I be angry?
BETH: Is this reverse psychology? Because my mom tried that on me once. She made me smoke an entire pack to make me quit.
ME: Did it work?
BETH: I actually asked for a beer and another cigarette when I was done.
ME: Beth, you're a grown-up. You should be able to do what you want to do without having to hear about it from your friends who are just supposed to support and love you for who you are.
BETH: I can't handle this.
ME: What? Support?
BETH: Yes, it's freaking me out. I need a cigarette.
ME: So have one.
BETH: Now I don't want one!
ME: Why?
BETH: Because you took the fun out of it! Thanks Kevin!
ME: Hey, it's your life.
BETH: Go to hell!

Okay, so this wasn't going exactly according to plan. But I was going to stick with it. It was just going to take people some time to get used to me not being a nagging prude whose always telling everyone what to do.

I had no doubt at all, however, that my new approach to life would be appreciated at work.

MARTHA: What the hell is wrong with you?

This was Martha's response when I told her that I didn't see why we should criticize Daisy for always giving her son money when he has A) No job B) No prospects of getting a job and C) Has been on Maury twice for paternity tests (He's their biggest sweeps stunt).

ME: I just think how Daisy deals with her son is her business.
DAISY: Thank you, Kevin.
MILLIE: But she's not dealing with him. She's writing him a check and sending him off to buy God knows what--
MARTHA: Drugs, booze, porn--
MILLIE: Meanwhile, she should be setting him straight.
DAISY: Jerry won't buy porn. He gets it free off the Internet.

It was time for a little enlightenment.

ME: Ladies, let me explain my philosophy. I call it 'the moving train.'
MARTHA: Hang on, let me get my earphones. I can either listen to you or Tony Bennett, and it's pretty clear that Tony's going to win.
ME: Just give me a chance here. In most situations, you're dealing with a speeding train. Somebody likes someone they shouldn't. They're addicted to something they should give up. They keep repeating bad behavior that isn't good for them. So you tell them to stop. Give it up. Stop seeing whomever it is they're seeing. Do you know what you're doing?
DAISY: Impersonating Dr. Phil?
ME: No. You're standing in front of a speeding train. Nothing you say or do is going to stop them. They need to make their own mistakes and if you care about them, you let them do it and you're there for them whatever happens. It's that or get hit by the train. That's something I just recently learned.
MILLIE: No more letting him go into the self-help section on his own.
ME: Now, take Daisy and her son. We could bully her all we want about what we think of what she's doing--
MARTHA: --my heart in San Francisco...
ME: But why bother? Why not just let her come to a decision about it herself?
MILLIE: You're right, Kevin. As a matter of fact, why don't I write Jerry a check too?

She took out her checkbook.

MILLIE: I mean, after all, he's on a moving train.
ME: No, I didn't mean--
MILLIE: Nothing we can do is going to stop him anyway. Might as well just get him where he's going faster.
ME: Millie, you don't have to be sarcastic. I was just saying--
DAISY: Make the check out to Jerry Gray--
MARTHA: God, Tony, you send me.

I didn't understand. Here I was trying to be all zen about everything and instead I was getting everyone riled up.

JOEY: It's because people are used to having a certain relationship with you, Kevin.
ME: What relationship?
JOEY: You're the practical one. You're the one who tells people what they don't want to hear.
ME: Yeah, but everyone hates me when I do that.
JOEY: I know. It's like flossing though. You hate doing it, but you have to or your teeth will look gross.
ME: So I'm--
JOEY: And then someone--you know, you--will have to say, 'Hey, your teeth are gross. Floss.' And you may not want to hear it...but you have to.
ME: That's true.
JOEY: Because nobody wants gross teeth.
ME: You're right about that one, Joey.
JOEY: So be that guy. Be the guy who fights plaque.
ME: Be Listerine?
JOEY: Yeah, be Listerine...or Scope. Whichever.

I understood what Joey meant. For most of my life, I have been 'that guy' with people. They hate hearing what I have to say, yet they always ask me because they know I'll tell them the truth. The thing is, I don't want to be 'that guy' anymore. Let someone else do it. I want to be the guy who tells everyone they should keep doing what they're doing and godspeed while they're doing it.

Luckily, I knew someone who would love the new me. The guy who I've judged more than anyone in my entire life: My Dad.

DAD: The queer across the street and I got into another argument today.
ME: That's a shame, Dad. I hope you two manage to work it out.

I was eating dinner at my Dad's house. That meant a pork roast that could choke Don DeLuise. My stepmother, Stacey--who happens to be young enough to be an embryo--was still unloading her purchases from the mall that day. We get along fine, mostly because we both grew up on the same television shows.

My sister, Annie, is still only eight, so Dad and I try to watch ourselves around her.

DAD: What the f**k did you just say?
ME: Nothing, Dad. Just that I hope--
DAD: I heard you.
STACEY: Big Kev, I got Annie that computer game she wanted.
DAD: I thought we weren't getting her anything until she started doing better in school?
ANNIE: Daddy, I love you.
DAD: Oh, never mind. Have fun with your game, sweetheart.

I could never have gotten away with that as a child. Girls can work magic with their fathers. My only magic was making my face transform into a smile when I said, 'Of course, Dad! Who wouldn't want to play soccer?'

I would have said something about him spoiling her, but--

ME: Yeah, Annie. Maybe you can show me how to play the game later.
ANNIE: Okay, Brother.

She still calls me 'Brother.' I'll admit, it melts me like ice cream in Key West.

DAD: What's going on with you? First you don't get mad at me for calling the fairy neighbor a queer, then you don't say anything about me spoiling your sister.
ME: Dad, it's your vocabulary and she's your daughter. Who am I to say anything?
DAD: Hey! I raised you to have an opinion about things!
ME: But you disagree with all my opinions!
STACEY: Can't we have one dinner without you two shouting at each other?
ME: Stacey, if you can tell me one band that was at Woodstock, I'll respect you forever.
STACEY: Um...The Bangles?
ME: Wow, I was worried for a second there.

My Dad speared a piece of roast and ate the whole thing without chewing.

DAD: You going to mention how all all this meat is killing me? All the fat? The grease? The carbs?
STACEY: There's no carbs in roast, Big Kev.
DAD: He knows what I'm talking about!
ME: Dad, eat a bowl of lard for all I care. I just want you and everyone else to be happy.

Annie laughed.

ANNIE: Brother, you crazy.
DAD: F**king right, he's crazy.
STACEY: Little Kev, tell your father not to swear in front of your sister.
ME: Now Stacey, it's his life.
DAD: Stacey, get me a bowl of lard!
ANNIE: Oh no! Daddy's going to eat lard.
ME: I'll just have the salad.

I haven't seen my father that mad since I told him that my fascination with wrestling had more to do with the tiny underwear than the athletic aspect of it.

CARLY: I've got a list of things I think you'll be horrified by, all right?
ME: And why do you have this list?
CARLY: Because we need to get you back on track.
ME: I am on track.
CARLY: Kevin, people expect certain things from you. Ugly shirts. Obscure literary references. And Judgment.
ME: That reminds me. I have to do a load of plaid later. Ha, that reminds me of a quote from Sister Noon by Karen Joy Fowler...
CARLY: Kevin, I once snorted baking soda.
ME: Um, why would you do that?
CARLY: I thought it would be cool.
ME: Carly, I don't believe you.
CARLY: All right, well...I also shot up heroin once.
ME: You hate needles.
CARLY: I killed a puppy.
ME: You love animals.
CARLY: It was an ugly puppy.
ME: This isn't going to work. This experiment is about making changes in my life, and whether or not everyone accepts it, this is a change that's not going anywhere. I'm not going to be judge and jury anymore. From now on, when people tell me their problems, I'm going to listen and do nothing else aside from be there for them.
CARLY: Wow. I don't know what to say that. Except...I slept with a married man.
ME: Carly--
CARLY: Two--no six! Six married men!

Oblivious as I can sometimes be, I thought giving up judging would only apply to my family and friends, but I never actually thought it would come into play in terms of my dating life--mostly because there isn't much of any at all.

It just so happened, however, that I had a date the following night.

This was a dilemma. I mean, on some level, you have to judge the person you're on a date with, to see if they're someone you want to pursue anything with, right? On the other hand, I had the tendency to judge too harshly. So what was I to do?

Then I had it.

I would be able to judge but only from a non-hypocritical standpoint--meaning--I could only rule this guy out as someone who was not a good match if he hadn't done anything that I already hadn't done (e.g. if he was an alcoholic--I don't drink, and I don't particularly want to date an alcoholic--so turning him down in that circumstance would be totally within my rights, but if he was a nail-biter or addicted to Flip This House, well I'd have to suck it up...not that I'd mind someone who likes Flip This House.)

The date started off really well. We were having a great conversation, when--as conversations usually do when I'm on a date--ours took a turn for the uncomfortable.

REESE: I'm very liberal sexually.
ME: Oh...are you?

I could feel a judgment coming on, but I fought it. After all, aren't I liberal sexually?

REESE: I think sex should be something people can talk about freely without being embarrassed.
ME: I agree.
REESE: For example, I find I can only get off when two other people are involved--not just one.

Okay, I guess I'm not that liberal.

ME: Is that so?
REESE: Yeah--I mean, does that shock you?

It can't. I can't shock me, because--well, I can't say I've never been involved with a threeway now can I? I mean, granted, that was awhile ago and I'm a new person now, but--

JUDGEY MCJUDGE PANTS!

ME: No, not at all. It's important to experiment, I think.
REESE: God, it's so nice to be out with someone who has an open mind about things.
ME: Thank you. I'm trying to be less judgmental.
REESE: I think that's terrific. You wouldn't believe what happened the last time I suggested to a guy that he come hook up with me and my boyfriend.
ME: Oh, I mean, I don't know about fooling around with a couple. I don't know if I'd--

You've done it before, Skanky, so keep your mouth shut.

ME: It's not something I'd do again, but people do...um...do it...with a couple...I guess.
REESE: You sound just like my boyfriend.
ME: Your boyfriend?
REESE: He was against one-night stands.
ME: Well, I--

No, you can't. Remember? Sitting in the car. Looking at the text message. How close were you you to going over--

ME: --Can't say anything about that, really. I can't judge, I mean.
REESE: He was against pornography as foreplay, too.

God, I'm a slut. Wait, now I'm judging myself. I can't win.

ME: To each his own.
REESE: But he still lets me have my threeways. That's why I stay with him.
ME: Stay with him? You mean you're still with him?
REESE: It's an open relationship.

Ding ding ding. An ungodly act I've never committed! Open relationships!

ME: I think I might want the check.

Even though I clearly had no future being the baloney in yet another open relationship sandwich, I still wondered if maybe I came off too judgey.

UNCLE WILL: I'm going to go with--
JEFF: No.
UNCLE WILL: Yes.
JEFF: Will, he's your nephew. You really want him being the bookmark in the page-turner?
ME: Okay, that's a new one.
UNCLE WILL: Jeff, he can't go around judging people in open relationships. Do you want him judging us?
ME: You guys promised that was over!
JEFF: It is! We just do it on holidays--all the holidays...even the Islamic ones.
UNCLE WILL: But in those cases only with actual Islams.
ME: Forget it. It's your...um...Hey, it's...oh screw it. Do what you want.
JEFF: Kevin, I know it's hard. But what you're doing is incredibly admirable.
UNCLE WILL: He's right, Kev. Stick with it. And every time you get the urge to judge, just remember, he who throws the first stone--
ME: Do you even know the last part of that or where it comes from?
JEFF: We ate Chinese last night. It might have been in a fortune cookie. But at least he got the right context.

That night after the date, I was exhausted. I came home and sank into the sofa. Mom was getting ready for work at the hospital.

MOM: I see not judging isn't working out so well.
ME: It's just going to take some time to get used to.
MOM: Why is this so important to you all of a sudden?
ME: Because I'm sick of people recoiling every time I open my mouth! And I'm sick of caring so much about stuff that's absolutely none of my business. And on top of all of that, I have no business judging anybody. I'm no saint.
MOM: You're a good boy. You're just a little obsessive sometimes.

Hmm...That sound...it...it sounds like...

A heriditary disorder.

ME: Although, I will say, as one final judgment, I know where I get my judgy ways from.
MOM: Your grandmother?
ME: You.
MOM: Me?
ME: Mom, you criticize everything about everyone.
MOM: That's not true.
ME: Everyone's terrified of you. Auntie Deidre didn't tell you she was getting a divorce until after it was already finalized.
MOM: If she didn't want to hear that she made a mistake, she shouldn't have made it in the first place.
ME: See! See what I mean!

Mom stopped ironing and shot me a look. A judgey look. The same look I've been giving to everybody I loved for god knows how long the minute they commit the slightest moral infraction.

MOM: Kevin, do you have any idea how many times I've had to hold this family together? Who do you think raised you to have a good moral compass?
ME: Yes, but you didn't need to do it by nagging and judging.
MOM: Maybe I did. Maybe somebody needs to say, 'No, that's wrong' or 'Don't do that. You'll regret it.' How else are people supposed to know what right and wrong is anymore?
ME: And who are you to tell them what right and wrong is?
MOM: That's the problem with the world you kids live in today. Everybody just goes around acting on every whim and fancy they have, and then they turn to their quote unquote friends and ask if they're doing the right thing and you all say 'Sure! Of course you are! Go ahead. Stick your head in the fire! You'll love it!' Because none of you are strong enough to risk losing somebody just to try and help them.

She came over to the couch to grab her pocketbook. I was stunned. Is this what my mother actually thought of my generation? That we were all wimps who couldn't stand up to one another and that we were all too sensitive to hear the truth?

I mean, for god's sakes, her generation wasn't that much better! I've seen The Big Chill! Those people were psychotic!

ME: I didn't know you had such disdain for me and my entire age group, Mom.
MOM: Honey, I don't. I think you kids just need to develop a tougher skin. When I was growing up, if somebody wasn't shouting at you, they didn't love you. They didn't care. And you took what they had to say and maybe you did want you wanted anyway, but you at least knew that there were people who cared enough about you to say something. People that were looking out for you. Now nobody looks out for anybody, everybody just looks out for themselves. Don't you be like that. Don't you only worry about yourself. You're better than that.

She kissed the top of my head and started to leave.

ME: The thing is...there are times when you should just say...'Hey, it's your life.'
MOM: Like when?
ME: Like when your son says, 'Ma, I'm gay.' You should say, 'Okay, honey. It's your life. I still love you. I won't...'

Mom came back and sat on the couch with me for a second. I could see she that her eyes had watered up a little. I had hit a sore spot. We'd come a long way since that great admission to her all those years ago, but for some reason I never stopped thinking that she was judging me. That she was thinking everything I did was wrong.

She put her hand on my hand and looked me right in the eye.

MOM: How's this for a judgment? Your mother was wrong. She said the wrong things because she thought she screwed you up and she blamed herself for that. And someone should have been there to say, 'Hey, leave the kid alone. He just wants your support. Stop being such a bitch.' But nobody was there. So she did what she did and she said what she said, and she was wrong. She's human. She's sorry. She loves you to death. And she thinks that because you are how you are, you're braver than she'll ever be.

I guess that's my Mom for you. At certain times, she'll say something and make you feel two inches high, and other times she'll praise you and you feel like you can float up into the clouds, but not matter what, you know she's telling you the truth and that she's saying what she's saying because--even though it might sting a little--she thinks you're worthy of nothing less.

Thou Shalt Love Thy Enemy

2007-09-21T12:00:00.000-07:00

A few days ago, Allan's dog died.

For those of you who don't remember Allan, he's my archenemy. The Lex Luthor to my Superman. The Joker to my Batman. The Hillary Swank to my Annette Bening.

(Check out www.100dates100boys.blogspot.com if you need more background.)

I found out about Allan's dog via compulsive away message checking.

"R.I.P. Harry--the best dog in the world."

Now, I'm not a barbarian. I would never be glad to find out somebody's dog died. But in any situation involving Allan, it's normally incredibly difficult for me to rustle up anything more than indifference towards him.

But this time was different.

My goal with this whole experiment was to a be a better person. A good person. And good people don't hold grudges against someone whose just suffered the loss of a pet. (I'm a big-time animal-lover, and the mere thought of either one of my pets dying makes me shudder.) I was going to end this feud with Allan. No more cattiness, no more fighting, no more lighting his mailbox on fire...um....moving on--

I decided that life was simply too short to have enemies.

ADAM: Are you kidding? That's what life's all about!

My decision led to a conversation with Adam about life philosophies.

ADAM: My philosophy is--Everybody hates me anyway.
ME: That's your philosophy?
ADAM: Try it for yourself. Any time you're faced with a moral decision, think 'Everybody hates me anyway' and then make your choice. You'll find life becomes a lot less stressful.
ME: You find life is less stressful when you believe the entire world dislikes you?
ADAM: Think about it. When everybody likes you, you have certain standards and expectations to live up to, but when everybody hates you you can do whatever you want.
ME: Adam, have you been reading The Prince again?
ADAM: The point is, you've never gotten along with this kid. Why start now?
ME: Because I'm trying to be a good person. And good people are not universally hated.
ADAM: Yeah, but even superheros have a nemesis. Like the Olsen twins and the paparazzi.
ME: Did you just refer to the Olsen twins as superheroes?
ADAM: They were billionaires before they could eat solid food and now one's on Weeds and the other is pre-med. That kicks the s**t out of x-ray vision and super speed.

My plan to mend fences with Allan was simple. I was going to write him a sincere, compassionate e-mail where I would tell him how sorry I was to hear about Harry dying. Part of me wishes we still lived in a time where everyone did everything by letter. Everything seems so much more personal that way. Granted, I was sending him my condolences via aol, but nevertheless, it appeared so Victorian.

A few hours later I received a reply from Allan. I was expecting a "Thank you for your thoughts." What I got instead was a--

"F**k you. I hope you're happy. You've made my day that much worse."

Um...So much for Victorian sentiment.

ME: Maybe he thought I was making fun of him. Whenever you e-mail it's always difficult establishing a tone.
BETH: Maybe someone needs to put a cigarette out in his eye.

Beth was a little skittish after quitting smoking...again. Part of me really wanted to believe that the response from Allan had to do with my e-mail voice sounding like Hal from 2001.

ME: Beth, he's suffered a loss.
BETH: So have I! I've lost my favorite addiction!
ME: A tangible loss. I just feel so awful. He thinks I was digging at him.
BETH: Hey, at least you tried.
ME: Well, I'm going to have to think of something else.
BETH: Why is this so important to you? Lots of people like you. Who cares if this one person doesn't?
ME: Because it bothers me when people don't like me. Don't ask me why. It just does.
BETH: It's okay, honey. I feel the same way. I'm a total people pleaser.
ME: Is that why the last time someone asked you if you had a cigarette you told them you didn't speak English?
BETH: Que?
ME: It's pronounced like "Che."
BETH: S**t. Now my diction is going. I have to start smoking again.

While Beth planned on going back to an old friend, I planned on winning over my enemy. My Plan B? I was going to help Allan get past Harry dying with my own special arsenal--Self-Help literature.

My idea spawned from the fact that the library was having a book sale, which is always a good place for finding books on grieving and loss. Once people are done grieving, nobody wants to look at the books that helped them stop grieving anymore.

................

Yeah, I guess that sentence made sense.

While I was rummaging through boxes, I asked the library ladies what they thought of my predicament with Allan.

MARTHA: Tell him to stop being a #$%^. It's just a dog.
ME: Martha, how would you feel if one of your cats died?
MARTHA: Life wouldn't be worth living. But cats are different. They $%^& in the same place everyday.
ME: You're right. That makes them so much more worthy of love.

Millie was organizing the magazine section, while Daisy sorted the kids books.

DAISY: This book is filthy.
ME: It looks clean to me.
DAISY: No, I mean the content.
ME: What is it?
DAISY: Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret.
ME: Daisy, that book hasn't been controversial since 1974.
MARTHA: You forget, Kevin. She was still old back then.
DAISY: What's it about?
MILLIE: It's about a girl's aunt coming to visit.
DAISY: Well, that sounds nice. Maybe I made a snap judgment.

While Daisy learned about that time of the month from Judy Blume, I asked about methods of getting past a loved one dying. I thought maybe I could go to Allan with some heartfelt suggestions from the wiser generation.

DAISY: When my dog Lily died, I was devastated.
ME: And what helped you move on from that?
DAISY: My husband bought me another dog that looked like just her.
ME: But...I mean...that's not really Lily. That was another dog.
DAISY: Yeah, but it looked just like her so...you know...It was pretty much the same thing.
ME: Uh...huh.

The thought of buying Allan another dog crossed my mind, but golden retrievers can be a little pricey, plus I was pretty sure he wouldn't be able to keep one at his apartment.

MILLIE: If you really want to extend the olive branch to this guy, why not just call him so he can clearly hear that your intentions are pure?
ME: I just get so nervous when it comes to talking over the phone.
DAISY: Not only that, why would he want to give this guy an olive branch? Won't that just make him look strange? Or is that what you people do when one of your pets dies? You know, the boys who like boys people?
ME: Yes, Daisy. Whenever a homosexual experiences a loss, we bring tree branches and dance the mambo to show our grief.
DAISY: Really?
MARTHA: Will someone find her a jigsaw puzzle to put together, please?

When I finally got up the nerve to call Allan, he wasn't answering his phone. I knew our feud had been fiery in the past, but I didn't think he was holding this much of a grudge against me.

Another part of me realized that what Allan was going through had nothing to do with me, and maybe I was being selfish by trying to force him into a truce at this point in time. Even with that in mind, I was still really troubled that night at family dinner.

MOM: What's the matter? Don't you like your American chop suey?
ME: First of all, I'm almost positive you don't make American chop suey with ketchup. Second of all, I just have a lot on my mind.
ROGER: What's the problem, Kev?

That's my stepdad, Roger. He's a great guy. Very open-minded and incredibly rational. I figured if anyone would be a good guy to bounce my problem off of it would be him.

ME: Roger, I really want this person to forgive me, but I'm not sure what to do to make that happen.
DANNY: GTTB.
ME: Huh?
DANNY: Go to the Bible.
RORY: Oh Christ.
MOM: Rory!
RORY: What? Kevin says it all the time!

My mother glared at me.

MOM: See what you start?

This is what I get for letting my little brother read my blogs about gay dating just so he can look cool at school in front of the pre-teen hag set.

ME: I'm trying to have a conversation with my stepfather right now. If we could put the crazy on hold. I can't tell Allan to go to the Bible.
MOM: This is about Allan? Then tell him to go to Hell.
ME: Mom, his dog died.
MOM: So the poison worked?
ME and DANNY: MOM!
RORY: And she wonders where I get it from.

I smirked at my mother.

ME: You see what you start?

Roger raised his hands to indicate he had something to say. I'm not sure how he got himself into this family, but he doesn't yell...ever. It's incredibly uncomfortable.

ROGER: Kevin, you can't force someone to forgive you. And forgiveness should come with no strings attached--including your own personal relief at being forgiven.
ME: You're right, Roger. I just can't stand knowing there's nothing I can do to resolve a situation.
DANNY: Take comfort in knowing that if he doesn't forgive you he's sinning against God.
RORY: Because that's something you can take to the bank along with the Invisible Man and Santa Clause.
DANNY: Mom, Rory's mocking my belief system again.
MOM: Honey, you want to be religious, expect to be ridiculed.
RORY: Damn straight.
MOM: And Rory, the ridiculing is going to cost you. You're doing the dishes and you're coming to church with me and your brother next week.
DANNY: I'm not sure he can step inside the place without turning into ash.
ME: Hey, has anyone ever held a grudge against you, Mom?

The phone rang. Mom got up to get it.

MOM: Kevin, grudges are pointless and petty. Only small people hold grudges.

She answered the phone.

MOM: What? No. Forget it. Please, I'll hate you until I die. Kevin, it's your father.

I took the phone.

ME: Hey Dad.
DAD: I heard about the dog.
ME: How?
DAD: Your brother told me.
ME: Which one?
DAD: The crazy one.
ME: I'm going to need you to be more specific.
DAD: The one I slip a twenty to whenever I see him.

I held my hand over the mouthpiece.

ME: Rory, please stop giving my Dad information about my personal life.
RORY: And watch the twenties stop? I don't think so.
MOM: You're coming to church the week after next week, too.
DANNY: You're only punishing me by doing that, you know.

I could hear my Dad's voice take on a firm tone.

DAD: Why are you trying to get this guy's forgiveness? Have a little pride.
ME: You know, I would hope that if anything awful happened to anyone I cared about, everyone would have at least a little sympathy for me.
DAD: Kevin, you want sympathy? It's right before 'stupid' in the dictionary.
ME: That's not true, but continue your thought, Dad.
DAD: All I'm saying is that your goal in life shouldn't be to make people like you. It should be to make people respect you. And when people respect you they're not always going to like you, and that doesn't matter. You think everybody like Condi?
ME: Do you mean Condoleeza Rice or Ghandi?
DAD: The Indian one.
ME: Ghandi, okay. I can't wait to hear this one.
DAD: Lots of people hated him, but now he's revered in history as being a great man. Any person worth anything is going to piss people off at some point in their life.
ME: Sort of like the Dixie Chicks?
DAD: Oh, are they still around? I hate them!

Usually after family dinner, I need a little decompression time. I went to Coffee Exchange to read the new Khaled Hosseini book when who should walk in--thank you Rhode Island for your tricky ways--but Allan.

He saw me and immediately walked out of the place. I dropped A Thousand Splendid Suns and ran after him. I caught up with him halfway up Wickenden street.

ME: Allan, hold up!
ALLAN: I wish I had something I could throw back at you to slow you down!
ME: I have some stuff in my pocket that might work.
ALLAN: I just want to be left alone!
ME: Okay, okay, Greta Garbo.
ALLAN: That's not who said that.
ME: I'm not trying to make you mad. I just wanted to let you know how sorry I was that you took my 'I'm sorry' for something other than a genuine 'I'm sorry.'
ALLAN: I knew it was genuine.
ME: What?

He stopped and turned around.

ALLAN: I said I knew it was genuine.
ME: Then why were you so mean when you wrote back?
ALLAN: Because I don't need your f**king pity, Kevin. I have friends and family to make me feel better when life sucks. So just leave me alone.

With that, he turned and walked off, and this time I didn't follow him.

CARLY: He'll never work in this town again.
ME: Because that's a real punishment.

Carly was the first one I called after my altercation with Allan. Lately I was finding myself doing something I've never done before--

Defending Allan.

ME: He's in a lot of pain. It was evident all over his face.
CARLY: You could see his face while he was running away from you?
ME: I could sense it. It was more a feeling, I guess--
CARLY: Kevin, let Mr. McWhiny Pants grieve all he wants for little Hugo--
ME: Harry.
CARLY: Whatever. He needs to learn to accept forgiveness into his life or risk people thinking he excretes mucus from various parts of his body.
ME: Carly, don't bother blackballing him.
CARLY: Why not? I've already gotten a focus group together to figure out which rumors would do the most damage.
ME: Don't bother because anything awful that can be done to Allan has already been done by me. So just don't worry about it.
CARLY: Fine, but if you ever want to start thinking outside the box in regards to character assassination give me a call.
ME: Will do.

Slowly it was beginning to dawn on me. Why should Allan want to mend things with me? We'd done some horrible things to each other. Unforgivable things. We'd said things that could never be taken back. At times our hatred for each other was almost biblical. So why should he just put everything to rest now because I wanted to?

The next day I was checking away messages and this was what came up when I checked on Allan's.

"Burying Harry after work today at my Mom's. Come pay your respects if you like."

I thought I'd give this one more shot. I typed in:

"I don't mean to bug you, but if you wouldn't mind me being there, I'd like to go."

And a few minutes later I got back:

"Okay. It'll be at five."

It seemed like my persistence might have actually paid off, but now what was I going to do? Was this going to be an actual funeral? I'm awful at funerals. I never know what to say, and for the most part I avoid them like the plague. But this was going to be for a dog. Was there going to be a viewing beforehand? Was someone going to sing? What do you sing for a dog?

JOEY: Probably something from All Dogs Go to Heaven.
ME: You mean like 'You Can't Keep a Good Dog Down'?

Meet my friend Joey. He's the sweetest guy I know. Very caring and considerate. He's also one of those people who everybody likes, so I figured it was a good idea to ask him how I should conduct myself at the funeral.

JOEY: Bring doggie snacks.
ME: But Harry's dead, Joey.
JOEY: Yeah, so? You should bury him with things he loved in life.
ME: I don't know what he loved though.
JOEY: What about bacon? Every dog loves bacon.
ME: Yeah, but I don't think Allan would want to bury his dog with raw bacon.
JOEY: You could cook it.
ME: I'm sure Allan wants this event to be as somber as possible.
JOEY: Are you going to wear black?
ME: Of course I am. I'm Portuguese.
JOEY: I mean, to show mourning.
ME: Yeah, that too.

The funeral was in Allan's Mom's backyard. When I arrived, Harry was already buried. The dirt was fresh over his grave. Allan was sitting on the spot just looking straight ahead. I approached him and wondered if I had missed the whole affair.

ME: I'm sorry. I thought you said five.
ALLAN: I did.
ME: So...where's everyone else?
ALLAN: I guess nobody actually wanted to go to a dog funeral.
ME: I'm sorry, Allan.
ALLAN: How ironic. With all my friends, the person who showed up today is the one person I don't get along with at all.
ME: I was hoping we could change that.
ALLAN: Kevin, it's not that I don't want to be your buddy. It's just that very few things in my life make sense anymore, and the one thing that does is that you and I don't get along. For some reason, that gives me comfort. No, more than that, it gives me a drive. I have an opposite. I have someone I want to be better than in life. For some reason, you and I always going at each other has made my life better. It keeps things balanced.

He stood up and looked down at the grave.

ALLAN: Harry was good for that, too.

I took out a piece of paper I had in my pocket.

ME: I printed this. It's from one of my favorite podcasts--This I Believe, on NPR. It's about dogs. I thought you might want to hear it.
ALLAN: Sure. You can read it if you want.

http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=14415923

At the end, Allan looked pretty touched. I was glad that maybe something I had done in the past few days wasn't a complete failure.

He didn't seem to know what to say at first, then put his hand on my shoulder and said:

ALLAN: I was making burgers inside. Do you want to come have one?
ME: Sure.

Hey, it's a step in the right direction, right?

JEFF: I love This I Believe! I wrote an entry for them once about my belief in good hygiene before a first date, but I don't think the metaphor was expressed well enough.
UNCLE WILL: Yeah, deodorant on NPR can be a tough sell.

I was bouncing Allan's reason for keeping me as his enemy off Uncle Will and Jeff while they prepped for a dinner party at their house.

UNCLE WILL: I can understand what Allan is saying. Every guy needs someone he can judge himself against. That's how he knows how far he's come.
ME: What about just having a sense of personal accomplishment? Why do you need to be better than a specific person?
JEFF: It's just guys for you, Kevin. We're all so competitive. Remember when I entered that blueberry pie contest last year? I was a total madman.
UNCLE WILL: He still hasn't forgiven Grandma for not reading him her recipe right over the phone.
JEFF: She said TWO CUPS! 'Two' and 'four' sound nothing alike!
ME: I just don't see why you someone would need to watch someone else fail in order to feel better about their successes.
UNCLE WILL: You do live in America, right, Kev?

While I was eating burgers with Allan, we talked about old times. And surprisingly, a lot of those times weren't so bad. The funny thing is, as I was sitting there, I realized that I know more about Allan than I do some of my really good friends. How is that possible?

ALLAN: It's because you make an effort to learn all about your enemies. You don't really try that hard with your friends.
ME: Yeah, I guess you're right. There's a lesson in there somewhere, but I have a feeling it translates into both of us being lousy friends.
ALLAN: Just admit it, Kevin. Having me in your life has been a lot of fun, and it's because of the volatile relationship we've had.
ME: It's made life more interesting, I'll give you that.
ALLAN: It's just funny to me that you always want life to be like a tv show, yet in the best tv shows there's never a moment where the two enemies are sitting together eating hamburgers after attending a pet's funeral.

Maybe he was right. But then again, part of me could see the camera panning away from the two young men. One still glancing down every now again and at a dish reading 'Harry' that was never going to be used again, and the other reaching across the table to hand the first the ketchup.

Ceasefires may not make good tv, but they're necessary all the same.

Thou Shalt...Um...Explain

2007-09-20T10:31:00.000-07:00

So I got a response to the last entry that I, in turn, responded to (I do that sometimes) because though this is a public forum where I should expect that people will, at times, respond to what I've written unfavorably, I also think of it as a two-way street, meaning I might have an unfavorable response to your unfavorable response--welcome to blogocracy.

Granted, I don't want to get into sniping matches with everyone who thinks I'm a tool. After all, who wants to argue with their family that much? (Ba dum bum.)

In this case, what I have to say isn't even unfavorable. It's just a response that I thought I should put in case any of you feel the same way the person responding to what I wrote did. The comment is under the last entry, and it has to do with perception and reality.

This was what I wrote back:

So, since I had way too much free time at work today, I looked up the perception-reality saying and found a colossal philosophical argument about whether perception is reality. I found this kind of ridiculous, since perception can only be one person's reality, but not necessarily (actually, almost definitively) objective reality. I don't try to achieve that with the blog I write. It's not me stating "This is what happened. Believe me. Side with me." It's just what I feel, what I think, what I experienced. That being said, I also try to be fair with what I write. I went back and read the entry, and I don't think that it's in any way bashing anyone. It's an entry about an argument between two people who used to be close. A person can read it and think whatever they want. I do know--from countless English papers--that readers tend to identify aka sympathize with the narrator, but I've had people take me on about stuff I've written before.

I guess the reason I was writing to you is to say that my goal with writing what I wrote wasn't to absolve myself or try to make myself look like a victim. When I write, I usually write to try and make sense of things since a lot of times with people (including myself) things can seem frustratingly illogical. In this case, it was more the situation than anything else.

I'm not sure you're going to bother reading this whole message, but after reading everything I did about perception, reality and delusion I guess I'd have to say what I wrote was probably a mix of all three, but it was also how I felt; it wasn't meant to be something catty or clever. I can't represent any side of any story but mine, and you know what they say about sides to a story...

Kevin

And that about does it.

Thou Shalt Not Speak His Name

2007-09-17T13:36:00.000-07:00

I stopped saying his name sometime after midnight.

"Him" being a guy I used to date. You know who he is--those of you who read the other blog. The wonderful, generous, incredible person who everybody just loved--was really pissing me off.

After a particularly nasty argument via text (he would never call me during arguments like this, only because he knows it's easier for me to rationalize when I'm talking about something, and at that moment, he didn't want rationale), I decided enough was enough. He had accused me of doing something I didn't, and that was the one thing I can't stand.

When you've screwed up and admitted to it as much as I have, you get really defensive when you haven't screwed up and someone still thinks you have.

This was all after a long, drawn out battle to try and be friends with someone based on who they used to be. He was no longer who I used to know, he was someone else with new priorities, new ways of looking at things, and a hardened sensibility that it made it easy for him to forget that for eight months we meant an awful lot to each other.

It was then I realized that I had found yet another bad habit in need of breaking.

No more trying to mend, repair, fix, contort, reason or beat this dead horse anymore. There could be no friendship right now. It was time to stop.

ADAM: A-f**king-men.

Adam once again manages to bring sacrilege to a whole new level.

ADAM: You pounded this thing into the ground long enough.
ME: I just don't see why we can't be friends.
ADAM: Well, nobody else has ever had that problem, except for everyone whose ever dated anyone.
ME: Wait a second, I'm confused. Are you trying to be supportive?
ADAM: I'm saying let him move to Crazytown, and don't send him any postcards.

That's right. He's moving to Florida with someone he's known for a month. He quit his job, he's getting a puppy, life is good for him.

ADAM: It's easy to think you're happy when you're crazy. It's one of the upsides of schizophrenia.
ME: He's not schizophrenic. He's just trying to figure out his life.
ADAM: Can you add 'defending a**holes who treat me like s**t' to the list of things you're not going to do anymore?
ME: He's really not an a**hole though--
ADAM: I'm hanging up now.
ME: You don't have any advice for me at all?
ADAM: Um...A boy like that...he kill your brother...forget that boy...and find another...
ME: Okay, now I'm hanging up.

It's funny what you miss when you determine that someone will no longer be in your life.

For some reason that night, when I went to bed, I missed having someone there. That warmth. That presence. The feeling that I was safe. He and I hadn't slept together in over a month, but some reason that night it really hit me that we wouldn't be sleeping next to each other ever again.

It's funny how just knowing someone is there means you don't really have to think about them too much, but knowing they're not there and can't be there makes you think about them all the time.

Suddenly everything was attached to something else. Cheap VH1 reality shows that I used to watch with him seemed pointless, whereas before they were "a night in" complete with pasta and cuddling on the couch. Inside jokes disappeared. Good memories took on a sting. I had to resist the urge to say "that reminds me of when--" because otherwise I'd be saying it twenty times a day. By trying to erase him, I had installed him everywhere.

I felt embarrassed by the hard time I was having with this. But then I assured myself that it wouldn't be easy for anyone to cut someone out of their life the way he and I had cut each other out of ours.

Seeking that understanding, I turned to the two most wonderful women in my life--my mother and grandmother. Both had divorced and remarried--and even then my grandmother's second marriage didn't take. Surely they would know the pain of letting someone go.

GRANDMA: The day your grandfather left my house, I made margaritas and danced to Tony Orlando.
ME: Is she serious?
MOM: It might have been Neil Sedaka, but yes, she's serious.

They were getting ready to go to bingo--their favorite Thursday night activity. My mother was doing her hair, which in true Johnston fashion meant she was putting enough hairspray on her scalp to set off an alarm in Al Gore's bedroom.

ME: But there must have been something you missed about him?
GRANDMA: I missed the five years I couldn't get back. That's what I missed.
ME: But--
GRANDMA: You're too skinny. Aren't you feeding him, Connie?
MOM: Ma, I made him lasagna yesterday.
ME: She did, Grandma.
GRANDMA: Was there meat in it? He needs to eat meat.
MOM: There was meat in it.
GRANDMA: I'm going to make you some ham.
ME: Grandma, I don't need ham.
MOM: I can make my son ham if he wants ham.
GRANDMA: You don't know how to make ham.
MOM: Who doesn't know how to make ham?
GRANDMA: I make good ham.
MOM: It's ham!

This was getting me nowhere.

ME: You didn't miss your second husband either?
GRANDMA: Him even less. It was probably easier seeing him go because I had practice the first time around.
MOM: Your grandmother can have a heart of stone when she wants to.
GRANDMA: Stone's the only thing that doesn't break.
ME: Actually, it can if you have a sledge--never mind. I should have just savored that statement.
GRANDMA: Why are you so worried? You're young. There's a lot of fish in the sea.
ME: Yeah, but the more I date the more polluted the sea looks.
GRANDMA: You'll get past this, sweetie. Just give it time.

Unfortunately, I'd heard those cliches from everyone I knew, and they weren't doing me much good.

ME: What about you, Mom? How'd you get past Dad?

My mother sort of winced. She briefly stopped the onslaught of hair teasing (yes, my mom still teases her hair--she also listens to Warrant and watches reruns of Square Pegs), and gave me a sort of sad look, which quickly became defiant.

MOM: I don't like talking about it.

And with that, they were ready for bingo.

BETH: Honey, I'm sorry you're so upset.
ME: It's okay, Beth. I'm sure time will help.
BETH: Trust me, if I can give up smoking; you can give up him.
ME: You gave up smoking?
BETH: Any day now.
ME: But I don't--
BETH: I'm waiting for a really low-stress day, so that it won't be too challenging when I quit. For awhile it looked like November 1st was going to be a good day, but then I'm going to have all that Thanksgiving stress--
ME: That's the thing, though. I can't decide when to quit him. I have to quit him now. He wouldn't talk to me now even if I wanted him to.
BETH: That's why I prefer men to cigarettes. You tell the cigarettes when you're ready to quit, not the other way around.
ME: And also because just when you think you're through with them, you try one and pretty soon you're going through a pack a day?
BETH: Or like how sometimes you can't wait until after sex to smoke, so you smoke during it?

Awkward silence.

ME: I didn't really...um....no.
BETH: Oh. Anyway, got to go.
ME: Bye now.

Determined to find someone who could give me some tips of quitting cold turkey, I asked the ladies at work for their opinion.

Upon walking into the library, I found all of the women wearing "Kiss Me" shirts.

ME: Uh... Why?
MILLIE: Before you say anything, yours is underneath the desk.
ME: I don't understand.
MARTHA: The boss has decided the library needs to be friendlier. He asked me to come up with a way to make us more personable.
ME: What the f**k is he talking about? We're super personable! What a jackass.

Hmm, perhaps the library atmosphere does tend to make some of us a little spinster-y.

ME: So the shirts are--
MARTHA: The shirts were Daisy's idea.
DAISY: What's friendlier than a 'Kiss Me' shirt?
ME: But what if people actually try to kiss us?
MARTHA: That's why I brought this in--

She held up a can of mace.

ME: Couldn't this fall under some sort of policy infringement?
MILLIE: Probably, but we have to wear the shirts until one of us reads the policy and figures out what rule we're breaking by wearing them.
ME: Meaning we're going to wear them forever.
MARTHA: You got it.
DAISY: I think Martha and Millie are just mad because mine's a medium and they both needed a large. Hehe...
MARTHA: You're right. I wish I could store all my fat in my a** the way you do, Daisy.

I put on my "Kiss Me" t-shirt and got to work.

ME: Hey Martha, how did you get over your husband?
MARTHA: I put the car in reverse.
ME: No, I mean--how did you emotionally move past him?
MARTHA: Alimony.
ME: Did you ever miss him?
MARTHA: No, his money kept me company.

It was becoming increasingly clear that all the women figures in my life were...um...bitter.

MILLIE: Trying to get past someone, Kev?
ME: Yeah, and it's not going so hot.
DAISY: The only real way to get over someone is to go out and find someone else. Then bring that person to where you know the old person is and get them jealous. That's how you find true happiness.
ME: Really? That sounds kind of petty.
MARTHA: Just because she looks like Yoda doesn't mean she can dole out sage wisdom.

I did think that half of what Daisy said made sense. I needed to move on with my life, and that meant meeting new people and forgetting old ones.

Luckily, I was going to have some help with that.

CARLY: I have the perfect idea to spice up your dating life.

My friend Carly is absolutely fantastic. If Ari from Entourage and Carrie Bradshaw had a child it would be her. She's blonde, gorgeous, and fiercely loyal to her friends. When I needed some ideas on finding Mr. Right, Carly was the first person I turned to.

CARLY: The first thing we need to do is complete make-over.
ME: Carly, I've tried that before.
CARLY: But this time we're going to make it fun. A competition.
ME: A competition?
CARLY: Deadline November 1st. 'Make Over Broccoli.'
ME: How will people know it's not a Velveeta commercial?
CARLY: We can take photos of you. You can put the whole thing on your blog. People can vote for a winner. It'll be huge.
ME: And you think this will help me meet a decent guy?
CARLY: Kevin, the better you look, the better you do. They've done studies.
ME: Whose done studies?
CARLY: Who the f**k knows? But it's common knowledge. So, make a post. "Thou Shalt Make Over--"
ME: Yeah, yeah. I get it. In the meantime, I have a date tonight, so I should get going.
CARLY: Remember. Show off your best features.
ME: What do you think those would be?
CARLY: Definitely your jawline.
ME: So I should...
CARLY: Chew gum. Lots of gum.
ME: Thanks Carly.
CARLY: Love you, doll!

My date was with this really laidback guy named Taylor. We went out for drinks (or rather, him for drinks, me for atmosphere) and instantly ran into trouble.

The shirt I had worn to work was absolutely hideous (libraries don't really call for style) so I just wore the t-shirt I had under it--that's right, the 'Kiss Me' t-shirt.

Everyone kept commenting on it, and a few people actually tried acting on it. I ended up turning it inside out so that we could have a real conversation. I had let Taylor know I was still getting over someone when he asked me out.

TAYLOR: So this guy--
ME: Oh, let's not talk about him.
TAYLOR: Painful?
ME: No, just unnecessary.
TAYLOR: Gotcha.
ME: I'm sure everybody has a story like mine.
TAYLOR: Are you kidding? I'm going through a story like yours.
ME: Beg your pardon?

It turns out Taylor was in a relationship he just couldn't let go of either--albeit for trickier reasons. He and his ex-boyfriend worked together, lived together, and went to school together, so it was really hard to put a period at the end of things.

ME: Well, that's understandable.
TAYLOR: It's also that, well, I mean...it sucks to be alone, right?

Wow, finally someone understood why I couldn't move on--too bad it was the person who was supposed to be helping me move on.

ME: It does, in fact, suck.
TAYLOR: I mean, there's a lot of s**t wrong with Nicky--that's his name--Nicky. He's a complete loser, but I mean, he's something, you know?
ME: Yeah.
TAYLOR: Even when I know I wouldn't miss him, I know I'd miss having someone there.
ME: But if he's there, that means nobody else can ever be there.
TAYLOR: I guess it's a question of whether or not you're willing to take that chance. That someone else could be there, because I mean, someone could also not be.

...And sometimes you don't have a choice.

UNCLE WILL: If you really want to get the guy back, put out a rumor that you're dying. It always works.
ME: Okay, granted, I don't want to get him back, I just want to move past him, but just out of curiosity, what happens when you don't die?
UNCLE WILL: Oh, by that time you're back together, he loves you again, and he doesn't care that you lied.
ME: That could never work.
JEFF: Actually it does...occasionally.

I had placed a conference call to my Uncle and his boyfriend in Boston to see if they had any tips for me.

JEFF: You're on the right track, Kev. Just find stuff to distract yourself and eventually you'll be fine.
ME: What kind of stuff do you recommend?
UNCLE WILL: Casual sex.
JEFF: Will!
ME: I know, Uncle Will! Geez. How about you Jeff, any thoughts?
JEFF: Oh, I think casual sex is a great idea. I was yelling at Will because he's not using a coaster.

The next day I went over my mom's house for, you guessed it, ham.

On the way in, I stopped to see how my brother Rory was doing. If Danny was a the religious one in the family, Rory was the black sheep that couldn't be found. He's constantly in trouble, and what's worse, he has the charm to get out of almost all of it.

My mom had told me that he had just broken up with a girl the day before and that the poor thing was calling the house at all hours of the night begging to speak to Rory.

I should mention that he's 14.

ME: Rory, don't you think you should talk to this girl?
RORY: Why?
ME: To make her feel better?
RORY: Why is it my job to make her feel better?
ME: Because you hurt her.
RORY: I don't like her anymore. That's not my fault.
ME: But it would be nice if you could help make this easier for her.
RORY: Won't she get past it faster if I just leave her alone? Like that time I got punished for locking Danny in the shed and I couldn't watch football for a week? At first it really sucked, but after a few days I didn't really miss it anymore.

Leave it to my brother to use football as an analogy for getting over heartbreak. Danny walked by as we were conversing.

DANNY: Rory, somehow your ex-girlfriend got my cell phone number and she keeps calling it.
RORY: That b***h is crazy.
ME: Hey, watch your g******ed mouth!
DANNY: Kevin!
ME: Sorry. I can't believe you don't feel bad for this girl. Danny, do you see what I'm saying?
DANNY: I don't date. I've given my life to God.

Oh f**k me sideways.

ME: Rory, I'm talking about the difference between being a caring, considerate person and being a complete jerk!
RORY: It sounds like you're talking about the difference between being a guy and a girl.

Okay, that one stung. Not gonna lie.

ME: Danny, religion him! Quick!
DANNY: Kevin, I've just taken solace in knowing he doesn't hurt small animals for fun.
RORY: Well...not anymore.

I retreated to the dinner table where my Mom was doing her Avon order. She could tell I was upset, so she asked what was wrong.

ME: I just feel like I've failed at a lot of stuff, Mom.
MOM: Just because of that guy?
ME: It's just--you invest yourself into something so that when it doesn't work out, how can you help but think that it's probably because there was something wrong with you?

My mom sat down next to me at the kitchen table and looked me right in the eye.

MOM: Are you aware that when I was your age I had a child, no husband, a one-bedroom apartment with a mouse, a lousy job, and an ex-husband who--Well, you know your father.
ME: Yeah, I do
MOM: I was embarrassed about it for a long time, and a big part of me still is. That's why I don't like to talk about it. You'll find that your life is going to end a thousand times before it actually does. You'll think you have nothing, and everything will be taken away from you.

.........Silence.........

ME: And?
MOM: That's pretty much it.
ME: Great. Do you think you could get me a noose or a sharpened knife?
MOM: What I'm trying to say is, even with all that, I'm here. You haven't failed if you're still going, and you're still going. When you feel like you've got nothing else to be proud of, be proud of that. That you're still in it.
ME: Yeah, I'm in it all right. I'm in a rut.
MOM: Above all else, remember this. My son is not a failure. He's a smart, handsome boy and he's tough as nails like his mother. Now eat your ham.

She kissed me on the head and that was that.

ME: But wait, how long does it take until you stop being upset towards the person who hurt you?
MOM: Oh, it varies.

The phone rang. She picked it up.

MOM: Hello? No, I was just telling Kevin how you destroyed my life.
ME: Is that Dad?
MOM: Yeah, it's him.

I took the phone.

DAD: Do you want me to break his legs?
ME: Who told you?
DAD: Your grandmother.
ME: Since when do you talk to grandma?
DAD: I loaned her money for bingo.
ME: You did what?
MOM: Has he been giving your grandmother bingo money again?
ME: Dad, she's your ex-mother-in-law.
DAD: Yeah, and I keep her on the take, what's wrong with that?
MOM: I'm going to kill her!
DAD: Where does this guy live?
ME: Dad, as much as I appreciate you threatening to physically harm someone for me, I'm a big boy. I can handle myself.
DAD: All right, but make sure you eat. You grandmother said you looked skinny.
ME: Mom made me dinner tonight.
DAD: What'd she make you?
ME: Ham.
DAD: Your mother can't make ham.
MOM: Is he saying something about my ham?
ME: Hey Dad, you ever feel bad about what you did to Mom?
DAD: Every day, kiddo. But don't tell the witch that.
MOM: What'd he say?
ME: He said he wishes he'd done more.
MOM: Son-of-a-bitch!

I have a dream.

In the dream, it's thirty years from now. I'm 53. There's a barbecue going on with lots of people. Family. Friends. My kids. Maybe grandkids. Pets. Neighbors. Suburbia.

I'm making burgers on the grill. There's a pool with people splashing in it. Music is playing from a stereo that somebody brought out onto the porch.

There's laughing. Drinking. Eating. It's heaven.

Then it's night. The house is empty, messy from the people going in and out of it all day. I don't care. I'm in pajamas. I hear music. I go downstairs where there's a piano in my living room. Someone's sitting at the piano playing a song. I know the song, but I don't know it.

I sit next to him. It's a him, by the way.

ME: So you're Mr. Right?
MR. RIGHT: You are correct, sir.
ME: I thought you'd be taller.
MR. RIGHT: So did I.
ME: I was just kidding.
MR. RIGHT: So I can play piano?
ME: Piano and guitar.
MR. RIGHT: Already your hopes are a little on the high side.

I want to get a good look at him. I want to memorize everything about him, but I can't. I just keep listening to the music. And strangely, it seems like it's all a reminder. That I won't really be worrying about anything that I worried about before I went to sleep even a year from now. That there are always things to look forward to. New people to meet. New paths to walk down.

And the perfect guy sitting at a piano in a messy house plunking out heaven.

It was then that I said to goodnight to someone whose name I would not say again for a very long time...

Thou Shalt Abandon the Crutch of Caffeine

2007-09-08T17:46:00.000-07:00

On Monday, I gave up caffeine.

Although I have yet to get the nails fully under control, the train has to keep rolling one way or another, and caffeine was next up on my list of things to go.

ADAM: Why do you keep making your life suck more than it already does?

Always count on Adam to turn a phrase.

ME: I just don't like the fact that without at least two cups of coffee every day I can't function until 4pm.
ADAM: That just makes you normal, which means you should cling to it for dear life.
ME: Some people jog in the morning. They make breakfast. They're coherent at 9am. I want to be one of those people.
ADAM: Those people are called freaks. You're not taking into consideration the fact that you're a night owl.
ME: I have taken that into consideration actually. I'm thinking of scaling back my late hours.
ADAM: You mean you'll be in bed before 3am?
ME: Probably before 1am even.
ADAM: Great. We'll never speak again.

I should probably mention that this conversation took place at 12:36 am. That meant I had to be getting to bed soon...but first I needed to get caught up on Weeds...then read some Cormac McCarthy...then...oh damn...

Cut to me waking up at 6am after going to bed at 4am.

ME: I don't care. I will not drink coffee. I don't need coffee.

I decided to go for a jog. The thing is...jogging is pretty boring with nobody to talk to. So I decided to bring my friend Beth along.

Beth is incredibly energetic, so I figured she'd be ideal to take along for a brisk morning jog. She's like an old Hollywood agent, a real pro at a lot of things. She's also a great support system and hearing her laugh tends to make my day. Of course, I didn't count on the fact that I've never actually seen or talked to Beth before 2pm.

BETH: Hello?
ME: Beth, it's me.
BETH: Oh my God...the brightness.
ME: Relax. It's just morning.
BETH: What--is that the taste in my mouth? Is that morning? Am I tasting morning?
ME: It's 6:30.
BETH: AM?
ME: Yeah.
BETH: Jesus Christ, I need a cigarette.

Click. Silence.

ME: Hello?

Well, there goes that.

Instead of a jog, I decided to make myself a healthy breakfast. Unfortunately I couldn't find anything in the house that didn't have the word "processed" in front of it. My mother walked into the kitchen as I was trying to decide whether or not frosted flakes could be considered part of a vitamin-rich morning meal.

MOM: Uh...
ME: Good morning.
MOM: Are you sleepwalking?
ME: Yes, Mom. I make pancakes in my sleep.
MOM: It's not even noon yet.
ME: I know. I'm trying to be more of a morning person.
MOM: So you're going to need coffee?
ME: I gave up coffee.
MOM: What about men?
ME: They'll be the next to go.
MOM: Good. They're all scum.
ME: Mom, you're married.
MOM: So then I don't have to say 'Ask a woman who knows.'

My phone rang. It was my Dad. I had phoned him earlier to say something like--

'Happy Morning, Dad! Um...I'm awake...This is awkward.'

DAD: Are you on drugs?
MOM: Whose that?
ME: Dad.
MOM: Is he one of the men you're giving up?
DAD: Why are you up so early?
ME: I decided to see a new world.
DAD: You sound like a chain letter.
MOM: Tell him you've given up coffee. He could never do that.
DAD: What's she saying I could never do?
ME: She's saying you could never give up coffee like I have.
MOM: That isn't all he could never do...
ME: Okay, you can curb that right there, Aunt Sassy.

I had tried to make my pancakes look like Mickey Mouse, but instead they had gelled together and now they looked like a cross between Mickey Mouse and the Elephant Man.

ME: Damn, I just screwed up Mickey.
DAD: Whose Mickey? Are you seeing a guy named Mickey?
MOM: It's not that bad. Mickey just looks like he has a brain tumor.
DAD: Why are you giving up all this stuff? Are you trying to tell us something? Is this a cry for help? Are you going to commit suicide because you're gay?
ME: Yes, Dad. I can't take living in a world without Judy anymore.
DAD: Judge Judy? She's on at four every day!
MOM: You know, this boy on Lifetime committed suicide right after he came out of the closet.
ME: First off, that boy was Chad Lowe, and he wasn't real. Secondly, would everyone please stop talking about suicide?
MOM: Sorry, I was trying to plant a seed in your father's head.
DAD: What did Cruella just say?
ME: It's too early in the morning for this.

So I went into work a little bit early. There I was greeted by Miss Julia.

ME: Ahhhhh!

I should probably mention that Miss Julia was a ferret running around behind the circulation desk.

ME: What the hell is that?
DAISY: Martha turned Millie into a ferret...because she's a witch? Get it?

Giggle giggle.

MARTHA: Keep telling that joke. It never gets old.
ME: Where is Millie?
MARTHA: Downstairs getting coffee.
ME: Oh God, there's coffee.

I could already smell it. It smelled like a beckoning cabana boy and strawberry cheesecake all at once...Must be a new blend.

Meanwhile, the ferret was playing with what I believed to be the New Book stamp.

ME: Once again, what the hell is that?
DAISY: It belongs to my grandson. I'm taking care of it while he's in school. I thought we could make it the library pet.
ME: Daisy, every time a rodent comes near me, I have to shower for four hours with brilo pads. Could you please put it in your car or something?
DAISY: In this heat?
ME: Okay, I realize that's inhumane.
DAISY: You're not kidding! I'd have to ride home with the car smelling like ferret!

Millie arrived from the staff room with two mugs of coffee.

MILLIE: I heard you come in, so I got your coffee.
ME: I can't drink it, Millie. I've given it up.
MARTHA: What are you a Jehovah witness now?
ME: No, Martha, I think even they can drink coffee.
MILLIE: Guess I'll have to drink both cups. I even made it with half a hot chocolate mix like you like it.

I call it "Wake Me Up, Chocolate!" ...Clearly, I'm incredibly lame.

Miss Julia (I would find out her name later after Daisy made her an ID card and put it around her neck) started rubbing up against my legs. I jumped onto the Circulation desk and shrieked.

DAISY: Don't be a baby. It's just furry and friendly.
MARTHA: You work with Daisy all the time, you should be used to it.
DAISY: Martha, don't be jealous just because the ferret gets played with more than you do...

Millie noticed that I was slowly sliding down onto the Circulation desk into a lying down position.

MILLIE: Are you okay?
ME: Yeah, I'm just a little tired.
DAISY: Drink the coffee.
ME: No.
MARTHA: Kevin, you can't be asleep at work.
ME: I work at a library. Who would notice?
MARTHA: I can't argue with that.
DAISY: I think I might be asleep now!

Giggle giggle.

Throughout the day I escaped into the stacks to take cat naps. Do you have any idea what it's like falling asleep in the Dean Koontz section? I kept having dreams that I was a monk who could see Elvis.

After work, I called my Uncle Will to see if there was any other healthier supplement for coffee.

UNCLE WILL: Um, cocaine?
ME: Now how did I not think of that?

My Uncle Will and his partner Jeff live in Boston. I used to live with Uncle Will back when I first got out of college. He and I aren't that far apart in age, so we've always been more friends than anything else. He and Jeff are the only stable gay couple I know.

JEFF: Did your Uncle Will tell you I'm moving out?
UNCLE WILL: And the Oscar goes to--

...Of course, I'm constantly redefining the word 'stable' in my head.

JEFF: I am not a drama queen! You need to quit, Will!
ME: Quit what?
JEFF: Take an example from your nephew.
UNCLE WILL: It's not the same. You can't make money by drinking coffee.
ME: No, but it might cost me money when I lose my job for falling asleep onto a date due slip. What's going on?
JEFF: Your uncle has a problem with gambling.
UNCLE WILL: I do not.
JEFF: He's bet on everything from ponies to football.
ME: That's just insane. He's gay. He knows nothing about football. Ponies on the other hand--
JEFF: Ha ha, laugh it up.
ME: ...Are they pretty ponies?
UNCLE WILL: I happen to know a lot about football. I even dated a New England Patriot once.
ME: My Little Ponies?
JEFF: I'm serious, Kevin. Addiction runs in your family. Good luck trying to break the cycle. I have some great books on the subject if you want me to mail them to you.
UNCLE WILL: You mean like, My Gambler, My Lover?
JEFF: And the autobiography of Gladys Knight!

Wow, was what Jeff said really true? Does addiction run in my family?

ADAM: Everyone has some kind of addiction.
ME: What are you addicted to?
ADAM: Fierce singing black bitches and lean cuisine.
ME: I feel like it's okay to be addicted to....Well, at least one of those things.
ADAM: What I'm trying to say is everyone needs something to get them through the day. If biting your nails and sucking back some java is what it takes to keep you from realizing your life is kind of pathetic, then why take that away from yourself?
ME: Aw, you're so caring.
ADAM: So guess what happened to me today--
ME: And there's another call I have to take. Voicemail me your story.

I switched over.

BETH: I had a dream you called me this morning.
ME: I did.
BETH: Hahahaha!
ME: Beth, I wanted you to come jogging with me.
BETH: HAHAHAahahaha!
ME: I'm serious. I wanted to take up jogging now that I'm up in the morning since I've given up coffee, biting my nails, and staying up until all hours of the night.

Silence.

BETH: Honey, did they put you in rehab? Because I can come bust you out--or smuggle you in cigarettes...if you give me money.

I was still so tired that I almost thought of cancelling my date with this guy Nathan, but then decided to go since...Well, since I had nothing else to do.

Of course, what did he feel like doing?

NATHAN: Let's just get coffee.

F**k me sideways.

NATHAN: So you've given up coffee?
ME: Yup.
NATHAN: How's that going for you?
ME: I feel like lighting someone on fire and then falling asleep.
NATHAN: Well do you have anything else to fall back on in terms of vices?
ME: Like?
NATHAN: Do you drink?
ME: No.
NATHAN: Smoke.
ME: Nope.
NATHAN: Sex?
ME: Not nearly enough.

We continued to converse but after a half an hour I called it quits when I realized that when I become as tired as I was, I say things like:

ME: You know who's actually still sort of attractive? Corey Haim.

--And--

ME: Why doesn't Anderson Cooper just come out of the closet?

--Plus my favorite--

ME: As a kid, I was really scared of the Fanny the Flame video.

And we're done.

Once again I trudged home feeling worse than before the new resolution was made. I thought the point of this blog was to make me feel better about my life. Instead having all these distractions taken away was just making me deal with stuff I really didn't want to deal with--so why was I doing it?

My brother Danny asked the same thing. Danny is one of the coolest 16-year-old's on the planet. He's got an amazing heart; he's very kind and a great little brother. He's also obsessed with religion. He's convinced that he has a higher calling in life, and plans on traveling to Tibet as soon as possible, because...Well, I guess that's where people with higher callings go. He even has a t-shirt that says "Ask Me About Jesus." I keep telling him Jesus never went to Tibet, but he doesn't listen.

When he saw me fall down on the couch in the living room and attempt to pass out, he asked--

DANNY: Kevin, why don't you let the Lord give you strength?

I ignored that. I'll take strength wherever I can get it, but at the moment it didn't seem to be coming from anywhere--let alone the Lord. Then he asked--

DANNY: Why is this so important to you?

I got up. I went to the bookshelf where I keep my ridiculously large collection of books--considering I work in a library--and I took one down. I opened it up to the page I knew what I wanted was on, and I handed him the book.

It was the last page of the first part of To Kill a Mockingbird when Atticus tells the kids about the old woman dying after she finally loses her battle with mortality while winning her battle with morphine. Danny read about Atticus, the best father in all of literature, telling his kids that even though it's okay to take whatever you need to take to make life easy, she wanted to die "beholden to nothing and nobody."

I lay on the couch looking up at the ceiling wanting to bite my nails and make a "Wake Me Up, Chocolate" but I didn't move. I let my exhaustion force me to stay where I was--to keep me in the moment of wanting something but not giving into it. Then I turned my head and looked at Danny.

ME: I want to be beholden to nothing and nobody.
DANNY: Amen, big brother.
ME: Oh Christ...

And that was the last thing I remember saying before the blissful sleep took me over while feeling unsatisfied, but proud.

Thou Shalt Spend Less Time on Facebook

2007-09-06T12:18:00.000-07:00

But that doesn't mean y'all have to.

http://ric.facebook.com/group.php?gid=4877853929

Join and be merry.

~ Kevin ~

Thou Shalt Not Bite Thy Nails

2007-09-01T06:26:00.001-07:00

At exactly 8pm on August 25th, I stopped biting my nails.

Five days away from what would have been a one-year "anniversary" with someone I was no longer dating in any way, shape, or form.
Thirty-seven days after my twenty-third birthday.
Five months after my dad went into the hospital and nearly didn't come out.
More than a year since I had started a blog determined to find "Mr. Right" and failed.

It was a great time to start changing...well...everything.

I am, however, a big believer in baby steps.

ADAM: Wow, sounds earth shattering.

Meet my friend Adam.

ADAM: Nail biting? Why don't you quit something that's actually ruining your life?
ME: Like what?
ADAM: Writing stupid blogs?

He's very honest.

ADAM: Your hair looks dumb like that.
ME: I wanted it to look messy.
ADAM: 'Hot' messy or 'I just rolled out of the gutter and now I'm looking for money to buy more crack with' messy?

Very very honest.

ADAM: Or 'I had sex with someone off their meds and now I can't find my kidney' messy?

He enjoys a little bit of gossip.

ADAM: Oh my God, guess who calls their #$%* John Denver?
ME: I'm not sure I want to know.
ADAM: And they call their ^&*@ area the Rocky Mountains.

He can be a diva at times...

ADAM: Can we talk about how fierce I was at karaoke last night?

...Especially at karaoke.

ADAM: That bitch dared to sing 'I Believe in You and Me.'
ME: And you couldn't believe it?
ADAM: Did you just pun?
ME: Well, I--
ADAM: Get away from me.

And yet he's my best friend in the world.

ADAM: P.S.! I detagged some photos of me today on facebook.
ME: Why?
ADAM: I looked fat in them.
ME: But not in the others?
ADAM: Well, I was sitting. You always look fat when you're sitting. Rolls appear where they're really not. I don't need people on facebook who don't know me thinking I'm fat.
ME: I'm sure they would understand.
ADAM: Mmm...Better to just detag. Be on the safe side. You never know who you're going to want to have sex with in the future.

He's always a good person to bounce things off of so I decided to share with him my idea of changing my life one step at a time.

ADAM: I have a better idea. Write a blog about fierce Broadway divas. Start with Leslie Kritzer.
ME: I want to write about something more meaningful and use it as a stimulant for me to better myself.
ADAM: Better yourself? Did you just say better yourself?
ME: You're going to go right into 'Little Shop' now, aren't you?
ADAM: Alarmmmm goes off at seven--and you start uptown!

As Adam was riffing on the last note of "uptow-ow-ow-ow-own," it occured to me that although he may not have wanted to take my blog seriously, there were others who definitely would. Namely, Blanche, Dorothy and Sophia.

I'm referring to the three women I work with at the library. They're all in their sixties, so that when the four of us together, it's almost like we're The Golden Girls...and yes, somehow I'm Rose.

We all work at the Circulation desk together, and because we have a lot of down time, we often get to talking about things in our daily life.

There's Martha, my direct supervisor. She's a bit of a hard nut to crack. She's been divorced from her ex-husband for over thirty years but still gets alimony, probably because she knows where he buried most of the bodies. Her hobbies include Disney movies and solitude.

Millie is the sassier, more practical one. She often agrees with whomever she's talking to at the moment, she enjoys gambling, and she's eaten fish and chips from the same place every Friday since I started working at the library six years ago.

Then there's Daisy, a real sweetheart. I often tease Daisy for being an 'investigator.' She's the one you send onto the battlefield to tally the casualties, just because she's so unassuming. She's also the queen of making a nasty remark followed by an adorable little giggle so that you can't possibly get mad at her.

MILLIE: How long has it been since you stopped biting your nails?
ME: Two days.
MARTHA: How have you been doing with it?
ME: I've eaten two toes and an elbow.
DAISY: You'll pull through. Hang in there.

I cataloged some new non-fiction while Martha hunted for Danielle Steel online.

MARTHA: My ex-husband bit his nails.
ME: How'd you get him to stop?
MARTHA: I divorced him.

Remind me not to marry Martha--regardless of how much I love Harold and Maude.

MILLIE: I have an idea. Just put tobasco sauce on your fingernails.
ME: I did.
MILLIE: And?
ME: I found out that I really like tobasco sauce.

Daisy was looking over at the guy on the computer we all think is a pedophile. We call him, appropriately, Pedophile Pete, even though his first name is Hank.

DAISY: Today I caught him on manspace.
ME: You mean myspace or manhunt?
DAISY: He was looking at a girl.
ME: A real girl or a guy dressed as a girl?
DAISY: A real girl--from Fresno. I checked it out when he went to the bathroom.
ME: Well if she's in Fresno I think she's safe from harm.
DAISY: He could have her fly here. I hear pedophiles do that sometimes. They send them plane tickets and then kidnap them at the airport.
ME: Yeah, but he's a Rhode Island pedophile. Chances are he's not going to pursue anything long distance.

I noticed that as I was talking to her I had started biting my nails again. I was doing all right with quitting on a conscious level, but subconsciously I was as hopeless as seeing something classy on VH1.

ME: Great. I'll never quit. I'll be an eternal nail-biter.
DAISY: I guess it's true what they say about the homosexuals--no self control.

Giggle giggle. I should have been offended, but that giggle is just so endearing. Luckily, Martha is resistant to it.

MARTHA: You know what they say about you Italian women--big mouths, big tits, no brains.
DAISY: Speaking of breasts, have you stepped on yours lately, Martha?
ME: All right, enough girls. You're both pretty.

Millie snapped her fingers--this is what she does when she gets an idea. When Martha gets an idea she just lets it die in her head. Daisy says "Hmmmmmmmmmmmm" over and over again until you ask her what's up.

MILLIE: Gloves. Get yourself some hospital gloves and wear them all the time.
ME: Isn't that a little extreme?
MILLIE: I thought you might say that. That's why I found a photo of an infected finger on google.

She handed me the sheet of paper.

ME: That looks awful.
MARTHA: It looks like my Bennie--after the divorce.

Good thing I know where to get hospital gloves from. My mom works at a women's hospital in downtown Providence, and she's always good for a favor.

Basically, my mom is my hero. That might sound cliche, but it's completely true. As I grow older, I find that I keep trying to emulate certain qualities about my mom, but there are also other qualities that could use a little toning down.

MOM: You need what?
ME: Hospital gloves.
MOM: Jesus Christ, you're into that now?

For instance, she's a little too paranoid at times. She thinks I'm some kind of a sex maniac.

MOM: So whose going to be the patient in your little scenario?
ME: Nobody Mom, I'm trying to quit biting my nails.
MOM: Oh...GOOD BOY! Of course, you have no will power. You're just like your father. Except you stick your fingers in your mouth. He sticks his--
ME: That's quite enough of that.

The phone rang. Ironically it was my Dad. He and my Mom have been divorced since I was three. Whereas most people have a hard time accepting their parents' divorce, I was begging for it by the age of two and a half. My parents are all right on their own--My dad and I have a rather tumultuous history--but together they're...um...this:

DAD: What's she screaming about?
MOM: Tell your father your fingernails are falling off.
ME: They're not falling off.
DAD: What's not falling off?
ME: My fingernails. I'm not biting them anymore.
DAD: Good. It's a dirty habit.
ME: Dad, you eat a pound of animal fat a day with extra grease and you swallow it down with two bottles of Cocoa-Cola.
DAD: And?
MOM: Leave your father alone. It's nobody business that he's let himself turn into a blubbered up couch sore.
ME: Mom--
DAD: What did she say?
ME: Nothing, Dad.
DAD: What the hell is blubber?
ME: Mom, can you get me the--
MOM: I'll get you the gloves tonight.
DAD: What the hell do you need gloves for? It's winter?
ME: My nails, Dad. To stop me from biting--
DAD: And what the hell is blubber?

My Mom smiled. Winning arguments like these are what got her through her divorce without having a nervous breakdown.

ME: I gotta go, Dad. Love you.
DAD: Love you, too. Hey, my boss' daughter--
ME: Gay gay gay, Dad. Gay gay gay.
DAD: I'm just saying.

Now you see what I mean by tumultuous.

A day after wearing the gloves, I was starting to feel really confident. Every once in awhile I'd forget that they were there and go for a nibble. There were even a few times during the day when I got a little anxious. I never realized what a crutch the habit was until it wasn't there anymore. Of course, it would only take a short time before my mind got used to not having it there and then I would have kicked it once and for all.

...Had it not been for the rash.

I'm guessing it started on my hands. I felt the itch after an hour, but I thought it was just the gloves chafing my skin. It wasn't until the rash crept up both my arms that I realized I might just be allergic to the gloves.

ADAM: Tell me again why you were wearing gloves.
ME: To stop me from biting my nails.
ADAM: Wasn't the goal of this to get control over yourself?
ME: I was getting control.
ADAM: You were cheating! You were forcing self-control upon yourself and now karma has punished you with a communicable disease.
ME: It is not a disease! It is a rash!
ADAM: Don't you have a date tonight?
ME: Oh, f**k me sideways.
ADAM: I'll pass on that.

My date was with a really cool guy named Cal, who I had absolutely no faith in--allow me to explain. Cal was going through life changes of his own. About a month ago, his boyfriend dumped him...for a woman. He quit his job because the ex-boyfriend worked there. He moved back in with his parents into a little room in between their kitchen and their garage that I call "the cave." He constantly drinks and can't really seem to focus.

So why did I agree to go out on a date with him?

He plays guitar, he's pretty cute, and I live in Rhode Island--the land of "eh, whatever."

I should probably mention that since the ending of the old blog (www.100dates100boys.blogspot.com) I've found myself to be rather cynical when it comes to dating. I realize most people weren't too happy with the way the blog ended, and honestly, neither was I. I wanted a happy ending just like everyone else, and when it didn't come right when it was supposed to...it felt like the laws of the universe had abandoned me...not to be melodramatic or anything.

I met Cal at his house. He was throwing on his shoes in his room when he noticed my attire.

CAL: Aren't you warm?
ME: Huh?
CAL: You're wearing a long-sleeved shirt.
ME: I like long-sleeved shirts.
CAL: You should roll up the sleeves. It'll look better.
ME: Um...yeah, maybe.

What could I say--No? The rash was looking extra pink today. I was hoping he would think it was a double-armed birthmark and have the tact not to say anything.

CAL: What the hell is all over your arms?

No such luck.

ME: I got a rash from hospital gloves.
CAL: You work in a hospital?
ME: No, my mom got them for me so I could wear them and stop biting my nails.
CAL: Why couldn't you just stop?
ME: Because I couldn't.
CAL: Why not?
ME: I don't know. Why can't you stop drinking?
CAL: Because I'm an unemployed alcoholic. What's your excuse?
ME: I'm on a date with an unemployed alcoholic who lives in a cave?
CAL: You added the cave part.
ME: Oops.
CAL: It's not a cave. It's an inter-room.
ME: Is that what they're calling walk-in closets nowadays?

Cal took off his shoes.

CAL: Maybe we should postpone the date.
ME: Because I just insulted you.
CAL: No, I don't care about that. I just don't want to catch your rash.
ME: It's not catchy. It's from the gloves.
CAL: Yeah, you caught something from hospital gloves. I'm not going to take a chance on that. It could be bacterial.
ME: They weren't used hospital gloves.
CAL: How do you know that?
ME: So you'll soak your liver in vodka but you won't hang out with me because of my rash?
CAL: Sorry man. Can you hand me that bottle?

I went home and bit my nails. I enjoyed it. While I was biting I checked my e-mail. Who was I kidding? I couldn't do this. I couldn't make dating work, and I'm not going to make an entire life make-over work just by blogging about it and thereby forcing myself to do better at everything. I was throwing a real pity party when I read an e-mail from someone whose address I didn't recognize.

Hey Kevin,

I love your blog. Can't wait for the new one. I've decided I'm going to do it with you. My ex broke up with me two months ago and I still can't seem to get over it. I'm always sad and miserable, but from this point on I'm making a change. If you can do it, so can I. Hope the writing is going well.

~ Max Wright ~

I looked down at my tiny little cuticles and said 'No more.' And this time I meant it. So far it's been a week of absolutely no nail-biting, and I feel like I can keep it up. Of course, it's not all self-control and sometimes I slip, but that's okay. If nothing else, I need to learn that nothing is all or nothing. Screwing up isn't an excuse to give up.

The only thing that scares me a little is...

I've only just begun.

The New Blog

2007-08-16T23:43:00.000-07:00

Coming this fall...

ME: Things need to change.
ADAM: Like that shirt?

Thou shalt abandon caffeine.

DAISY: Kevin, honey, you said no more--
ME: Daisy, if you don't give me coffee right now, I'm going to find an infant and bathe it in cow's blood.
DAISY: How do you take it?

Thou shalt strengthen family ties.

MOM: I think you had a straight boy over last night.
ME: What makes you say that?

She holds up a pair of underwear.

MOM: No gay man would wear underwear like this.
ME: Mom, those are mine.

Thou shalt abandon negative influences.

ADAM: You would have been completely wrong in that role.
ME: Is there any role you think I would be right for?
ADAM: The Elephant Man?

Thou shalt not become a catty, bitchy queen.

RANDOM GUY: Hey, aren't you the guy with the blog?
ME: Yeah, that would be me.
RANDOM GUY: Want to make out and then you can blog about it?

Laughs.

ME: What would I write? Dear Journal, Today I made out with a troll...?

Thou shalt find inner peace.

DAD: So you're saying you won't go out with my friend's daughter?
ME: Aahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!

Thou shalt not obsess about boys.

CAL: Do you date a lot?
ME: Um...define 'a lot.'

Thou shalt find a gay mentor couple to look up to.

ME: You guys have been together for awhile. What's your secret?
UNCLE WILL: We opened up the relationship about three months in.
JEFF: Will, don't tease him.
ME: Thank God. I was worried.
JEFF: It was a year before we opened up the relationship.
ME: Phew, glad we got that cleared up.

Thou shalt educate thyself in ways school never did.

ME: Can I just tell you that I'm reading Anna Karenina and this bitch is a f**ked up mess.

Thou shalt stop swearing.

ME: Oh f**k that.

Thou shalt conquer thy fears.

ME: I can't feel my legs. We're too high up.
CARLY: Kevin, we're on the second floor.
ME: Is there a corner of this elevator I can crawl into that doesn't have bacteria crawling all over it?

Thou shalt live each day, each moment, each breath in gratitude and joy.

ME: I spend my whole life worried about what people think of me, and until now, I never actually worried about what I thought of me. Who I've become. I want to be better. I want to do better. I want to say I'm a good man and actually believe myself.

This September

NATHAN: So this is your new blog? All about becoming a better man?

It's time to play--

ME: Maybe after 100 dates the guy I need to find now is...me.

By a new set of rules

ADAM: You going to give up sex, showtunes, and scandals too?
ME: Let's not go crazy here.

http://thenewrulesofmylife.blogspot.com/

ME: I'm not running for pope just yet.

September 1st

ME: Oh, that reminds me--I need to find religion.