The Rise and Fall of Gay DC

We went to what someone referred to as a “Destroy my house party” yesterday evening. Not because the host was getting evicted (nobody gets evicted in our little circle… ever) or going through a bitter divorce but because he was remodeling a very nice house. The usual end of DC young gay intelligentsia was there: Andy L. (whom someone I had brunch with called most eligible Bachelor), Jake S., Rodolphe B., Cub S, one of the fallen TTs, Howie M., an actual Republican, Campbell M., and a handful of really excited Asian women. Even Stuart S. was here probably as the token older gay man. In short, the house was packed with people (I only counted three blacks though and as many exes of my roommate) beyond queer with really white teeth that shined in the dark. Ben T. was there constantly giggling like a 3 years old girl making a statement on how if you were born in L.A. you can go through 6 months in Italy and remain completely unchanged. I strongly suspect that David B. was wearing make up. That is what is so lovely about Washington, DC you always run into the same people. I have no idea what we talked about…the usual stuff probably… safe sex, visiting the White House, college lust, Ari S.’s appearance in the NYtimes crosswords, gay elitism, breaks up. Towards the end of the night, some of the gays at the party seemed to overlook the irony of the situation and started to kick the walls down while screaming their lungs out, probably taking out on them the lonesome frustration of looking for love in the wrong places and always being surrounded by the same crowd.

I was attacked twice during that evening. First by the very polemic Alex S. who poured a drink on me… which I admit was quite unsurprising. He did not even mutter an apology and was wearing an absolutely atrocious maroon shirt (which must have been imported from Scotland). As I pointed out to the charming Thomas B. dressing your alcoholic boyfriend in such a sorry fashion is a great way to always keep him in sight at parties and make sure that he comes back home with you….and someone else. Secondly, and this I only heard from LL this morning, that brazilian kid almost punched me at Cobalt and screamed “You should just forget my name!”. I was definitely too drunk at that point to ask him what actually was his name.

I rarely go out but it always ends up the same way: I got sick (even if I had had some vicodin I could not have reached it), power puked, LL was charming and patient and today I have been suffering from a terrible hangover. .....'tis a very, very sad story. Writing these few lines was painful, I am returning to bed.

Comments

[LL]

I tried to explain to FHC that "he's not sick, he's just in love."

http://www.nytimes.com/2006/02/12/fashion/sundaystyles/12love.html

you were attacked twice and like a typical frenchman, retreated.

[iLoveSushi209]

You have too many "friends"...and I think you should introduce me to one of them--preferably an attrative one. I've run dry on campus.

[Fagat]

You think DC gay life is bad? I went on a date last night with a German because I thought it would be fun to have a novelty boyfriend like FHC, and all I got from it was a hangover and a sliced left nipple.