My friend had his birthday party the other day, at a swanky bar on the beach with bottle service and neat little cabanas.
He was very nervous--it was the first time his professional and his personal worlds would meet. Correction: collide. "The people I work with don't know I'm gay," he said, as we drove to the party.
I nodded in understanding. "Okay."
"There's still some people who don't know, but I wanted everyone to be invited to the party."
"And the people who don't know I'm gay can't find out."
"So be careful who you are talking to people."
Translation: Dan, keep your mouth shut. Got it. "Okay."
I was going to ask how I would know who knew what. But then the conversation turned to the search for parking, which proved to be difficult.
Cut to an hour later--when we were the only people at the party. Turns out our bad luck with parking was plaguing everyone, and they were panickedly calling my friend and pleading for help while looping the block. So as he shouted into his cell phone, it gave me plenty of time to partake in the bottle of vodka all by myself.
It was some delicious stuff.
I was good and liquored-up when the party attendees started to arrive, first an ex-boyfriend from years ago, then another ex he dated just a few months ago. And then a few minutes later, a young woman walked in. "This is my ex-girlfriend," my friend said.
Does he have any regular friends? I thought.
"It's nice to meet you," I said. "You're the third ex of his I've met. And the first one without a penis!"
She just looked at me.
Yeah, she didn't know.
She does now.