For some reason or another, when the clock struck midnight on January 1st, I started making these grand declarations.
For everything.
They always, always start out with “TWO THOUSAND NINE, THE YEAR ______________”
It snowballed from a completely intoxicated statement made at the Lockerbie Pub in late December. “2009, The Year of Jenn.” Obviously, modesty is not my strong suit. But you get the idea. Sometimes they’re broad and abstract, like, “2009, The Year I Tell It Like It Is!“ Or sometimes they’re specific and literal, like, “2009, The Year Bess and Jenn Try Out New Places for Lunch .” Either way, they are both pronounced like they’re equally important, with large hand gestures and standing ovations. I thought this would taper off by January 5th, but I am still going strong with busting out these random affirmations, despite the eye rolls and laughter they are often met with.
“2009, The Year I Build My Gay Harem.”
Okay, so maybe not a Harem, per se. I am starting the interview process to acquire at least one consistent gay man in my life, which is harder than you think. Most gay guys have their one soulmate hag and those bitches are very territorial. Moreover, I find that I am working harder to secure a gay boyfriend than I ever did to land an actual boyfriend.
Case in point, I went to Jillian’s yesterday to hang out with Melanie and Co. for her birthday. Our waiter, Joshua, was so skinny and well manicured and fabulous. I peered up at him all doe-eyed and ordered a jack and coke.
“Double-tall?” he asked.
“Why not?” I shrugged, securing my role as the biggest boozehound of the table.
“Ooh, I can tell you’re the crazy one.”
That’s when I knew. I wanted to be his friend, right then and there. I wanted to smoke myself skinny with him. I wanted him to tell me what to wear. I wanted to dance with him at Talbot Street, glitter falling down all around us – a sweet, sweet, gay heaven on earth.
In 2008, I’d just sigh and pine for guys like Joshua from afar. But not in 2009.
2009, The Year I Give My Number Out to Gay Guys in Hopes of FIERCE and FABULOUS FRIENDSHIP
As I signed my receipt, I left this invitation: “You’re so fun! Let’s be friends. 616-581-xxxx. Lockerbie Pub tonight!”
He texted me back.
I feel like a girl of sixteen again.
I hope he does, too.
February 2nd, 2009 at 9:16 am
Oh Joshua… How I miss thee and thine swinging gold pistol medallion…
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February 2nd, 2009 at 9:42 am
I’ll invite you up for a girl’s night.
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February 2nd, 2009 at 7:58 pm
oh sigh, i want a gay boyfriend so badly, but am so not remotely feeling able to woo one. i barely go out enough to meet any cool people, much less the perfect man friend. good for you, going for it. we should do that everywhere when we run into cool people. i’m going to think about this the next time i see someone and think “i bet i could like them…”
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February 3rd, 2009 at 2:13 pm
Oh, I must admit it was definitely the jack-and-coke (double tall) that helped fuel the wooing.
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