I'm writing about the White Party for gay.com, so I'm going to save the filthy stories for then. It comes out in a week or something. But I will say this:
A weekend in Miami can be fun.
So I met this guy from Survivor--Brandon Quinton--as he was "co-host" of the pool party with me. He definitely gets the green light. So nice! So fun! And juuuuuuust a little dirty, which I think is the best way to be. I'm so glad he's a part of the "gay reality-tv people" club. Because, if you didn't know, we run in packs. The guy from the Amazing Race, Chip, was supposed to be there as well, but he couldn't make it. Too bad, we could have been a reality-tv has-been trinity.
Brandon, if you're out there, please email me at email@example.com. I never got your phone number, and when we became separated I couldn't find you in the crowds of people dressed in white.
As host of the afternoon pool party, I felt it my obligation to present a positive image for my party-goers, and therefore spent many many hours over the preceeding weeks in the gym, preparing my physical self. Then, on the afternoon of the party, I spent several hours in the hotel bar, preparing my mental self. I was tanned, I had a smile on my face, and I had on a teeny-tiny little square-cut swimsuit I got from H&M in NYC that was super-cute. At least, it was cute on the hangar; on my body, I dunno. But I get credit for the effort, I say. And this is Miami, right? Everyone wears teeny-tiny swimsuits! Or at least the gay people do. To wear anything more would be insulting to the culture.
So wearing my little suit, and a little shirt and my shoes, I shuffle on down to the Raleigh, the site of said pool party, ready for sun and fun and near-naked frivolity with the throngs in thongs, men strapped into Speedos ready to pop like bubble wrap. And when I burst through the gates, what do I see?
I see a bunch of guys in board shorts and long-sleeved shirts.
A few were wearing jackets, I swear to God. I think there was one wearing a chastity belt, but I'm not sure about that. And I stood there, looking like Bridget Jones in her bunny outfit.
Now please keep in mind I am (a) very tall and (b) rather thin. I do not have the body of the average International Male model. Nor do I want one. But pulling off bathing suits can be an uphill battle no matter what kind of body you have or how much coverage your suit provides. Needless to say, mine did not provide much.
But in the face of adversity, you can either shrink in defeat, or meet your enemy head-on; so instead of hiding in the back tent with the staff masseur (yes, the party had a masseur!) I positioned myself at the front door, welcoming all the guests. "Hi, welcome to my party. I'm glad you could come. Please purchase your tickets at the table to the right, the bar is over to the left, and all of your clothes need to come off right away." Don't think I didn't see them looking at my skinny legs. But I don't care. You do what you have to do.
After that...well, you'll have to read the story on gay.com when it comes out next week. It involves Cubans, Canadians, and lots of cocktails...oh my! It gets good.