For the past several weeks my friends have come over to my house on Wednesday nights, to partake in Project Runway glory together. The first Wednesday night, I was slightly self-conscious of exposing my infatuation with what is the gayest show on television. I didn't know them well; we just met out somewhere, and got on the subject of the show by accident. I didn't want to scare them away by queening out about the show; this was a male-bonding thing. We were dudes. (Dudes watching a reality show about fashion designers.) Watching the show together was gay enough, we needed to keep control.
"You want a beer?" I asked the first night. I kept my hands down to my side. No limp wrists.
"Yeah, that'd be cool, thanks."
Two of us sat on the couch, at opposite ends; everyone else was in chairs. We watched the show, said it was "cool," and were done. Male bonding.
Weeks went by, and we were always on our best behavior. We sat and watched the show, laying all the way back on the couch with our legs propped up on the coffee table, like dudes. We drank beer, we ate chips, the whole thing. By the end of each show I was exhausted.
A few weeks ago, one of the Dudes called and said he was on his way over for our weekly bonding ritual, and asked me if I wanted anything to drink. I told him, if he wanted, maybe he could pick up some beer?
He paused. "Or do you, y'know...want something from Starbucks?"
"I'd kill for a grande carmel frappucino."
And, deep sigh of relief.
Now we all pile onto the couch and the floor around it. Not a single additional beer has been consumed in my house since that fateful day. We have, however, gone through a bottle of tequila playing drinking games, taking a shot every time we see the Orbitz commercial with the women trimming the hedges. ("I need a good deal to Cancun?") For some reason, they play that commercial endlessly on Wednesday nights. And we're infatuated with it. We act it out. Over and over, down to the facial expressions.
We throw things at the TV when Santino says something stupid, we laugh at Daniel V's arrogance, we shreik when Zulema acts like Zulema. We make plans to take a trip down to Houston to check out Chloe's shop so we can try on all her clothes and take pictures of each other. And they're women's clothes, we know, but that's sorta the point.
Next show: The Sopranos, Sundays. And that show is really butch, so we can be REALLY gay and not feel bad about it.