Expecting to wallow in my continuing post-college depression, I naturally assumed I’d be spending my 23rd birthday with my grandmother, whose birthday is the same day, watching soap operas and eating ice cream. But apparently Dante (and my friends) had other plans.
Usually I’ve defined a good birthday as having lots of three things: people, gifts and alcohol. Every year I’ve packed out my house (or someone else’s) only finding bliss amongst a crowded booze-filled fiesta. However, this year, I spent the brunt of my birthday with only two people, received less then $100, and didn’t exactly get as drunk as predicted, and yet I probably had one of the best weekends of my life.
It may have been because the festivities started on Thursday and continued through Sunday (something I haven’t done in quite some time). And I did let Dante out of the bag (for those wondering), but he wasn’t able to secure the one thing I actually wanted for my birthday. (I’ll let your imagination figure it out, lol).
Thursday, my life-long pal Lamar and his recently committed and trés adorable partner Tim, treated me to a special dinner, complete with cake and ice cream and they even gave me a gift. Friday offered an impromptu dinner with my grandmother and a night of musical theatre at Shadowbox Cabaret, a rock and roll comedy sketch club, sponsored by my little sis, Leanna.
Saturday the official family birthday party took place at my aunt’s house but ended abruptly for myself when it became overran with children (whom we all know I can’t stand). So I escaped to Lamar and Tim’s metro chic suburban home for cocktails (a Screwdriver to be exact), before heading out on the town, where things got interesting, as they always do.
A Sex on the Beach and two (or three) Amaretto Sours later, at a gay club called Union, Dante was out, but slightly more timid then usual. In a surprise twist, Lamar (whose been using me to play matchmaker since my return to O-town in September) invited his friend Robert, who was later joined by the equally eligible Brian and Mike. Apparently, when Lamar and Tim took a smoking break I was supposed to pounce. However, my first thought after seeing Robert was, “this dude is a gorgeous, 27-year-old lawyer, what the hell would he want with me?” not “Let’s get it on.”
Dante must have recently been taking lessons from Mother Teresa because I was definitely off my game, and this new development, unfortunately, lasted throughout the weekend. Robert eventually took my shyness for uninterest and scurried off with his friends to another bar. And apparently he was indeed trying to flirt with me, evident by a scold from Lamar and a moment when he was resting his head on my shoulder. I know, I know, I totally blew it.
However, before I had time to contemplate my fumble another surprise awaited with the arrival of my best gal pal, Ashlee, and her mother, and later Evan and his bf Charlie, two of my favorites from OU, randomly showed up for some B-day lovin. All came with drinks, which cemented my inebriation for the evening.
After Union we headed to Tradewinds, a slightly more risqué environment, because, as usual, Dante wanted to get his groove on. However, this is the point where things became sort of wavy, memory-wise. I believe we left Tradewinds after drink one (a Long Island Iced Tea) because Lamar’s past was a little too prevalent at the bar, if you know what I mean.
Anywayz, we headed to this bar called Wall Street, it’s mostly a dike bar, but they play the best music; hip hop, not that disco mess, lol. And, again, Dante’s recent conversion to Catholicism took hold. We’re out on the dance floor and I’m sweatin’ up a storm (so I’m probably not looking to great to begin with), but there were a few guys doin’ the high-school-dance-accidental-bumping to get me to dance and, even after some quite forceful nudging from Lamar, I totally didn’t catch on.
Fed up with my drunken awkwardness Lamar and Tim suggested we go home and we soon left. In retrospect Lamar says I protested and wanted to stay longer, but during the next few songs would just stand there staring with my month open like some autistic step child and immediately passed out when they got me to the car. This, however, I don’t remember. So let’s just agree that it didn’t happen, lol.
Sunday the hangover took place back at the Union for brunch, where I ran into another old OU pal, Micah Mitchell, escaping to Columbus for a weekend of debauchery to get over his recent break with long-time bf Max.
Then I, unfortunately, had to work (covering BalletMet’s “Romeo and Juliet” matinee), but afterwards continued blazing the B-day trail. Lamar and I accompanied Tim to another gay bar called Axis for a drag show where his group Flaggots (a gay male color guard) was making a brief appearance.
Again, Lamar’s match-making instinct kicked in when he spotted his friend, Eric, a youngin in a pink tee. He quickly rushed me to the boy’s side for a bit of awkward conversing while he left with Tim to smoke. This time acting as Dwayne and completely worn out from the four-day fest, I tried to initiate a conversation but Eric was too enthralled with the show and his fag hag so, much to Lamar’s dismay, I bailed.
After enjoying a Sex on the Beach and Tim’s amazing gun-twirling performance to a homoerotic version of Toni Basil’s “Mickey” (most-known for its appearance in the beginning of “Bring It On”) I bid my two besties adieu and drove off into the sunset, a content but sexually frustrated freshly minted 23-year-old.
(Again, I know this post is crazy long, and I apologize, but there was just too much goodness not to elaborate. Forgive me?)
Until next time…
~D.A. Steward
P.S. Good or bad, leave a comment below! How are you all??? I MISS YOU!
