“Once that thing does a facial too, it’s mine.”
—Kathie Lee Gifford on a remote-control bidet.
(this has nothing to do with this post, but it’s just too borderline amazing to pass up.Just put that visual in your mind. See what I mean? source)
My response to him:
“You like dick. You ARE gay Ryan.”
He tried telling me he’d rather chill and watch the USC football game. Sigh.
“Why don’t you ask Daniel? He likes that sorta thing.”
“I want to go with you.”
I didn’t want to be rude and tell Ryan that I had already texted Daniel before him. Moreover what I couldn’t tell Ryan was that Daniel texted me back informing me that he had spent the night at the NYU dorms with the guy he met a few weeks ago.
Again, let me remind you, like I did Daniel this morning–Daniel is thirty-four. He has a GORGEOUS apartment, and he slept in a twin bed last night. That better be some amazing sex because there’s no way in hell that you could get me to sleep in a twin bed with another human being. EVER.
“Michael?” he offered.
“You know what happened last time I went with him.”
Michael and I were thrown out of the nail salon when the manicurist complained about his constant swearing, and asked him to stop. He looked at her and smiled sweetly. Then,
He told her to go fist herself.
“Oh. Yeah. Well, how about Christopher?”
I didn’t feel like explaining to Ryan that after Beige, I didn’t feel like hanging out with Christopher all that much. Ever. A shift had occurred. I felt horrible for thinking it. And what I had been struggling with since Tuesday night was:
Can you ever come back to a friendship after a shift occurs?
“No. He’s probably busy with Alfredo doing wedding stuff,” I told Ryan.
Just when I thought I was going to have to make this trek alone, I heard a noise…
“Oh. My. God,” I said into the phone.
“What?” he asked, wondering what could possibly come out of my mouth next.
“Wait. There it is again. Do you hear that?” I said overly excited.
“Huh? What in the hell are you talking about?” he asked again.
“Right there. Do you hear that?” I shouted.
“JESUS CHRIST FARRAH! Are you drunk?” he said annoyed.
“Maybe, but what does that have to do with anything?”
“For the last time, no, I will NOT go with you to some gay ass manicure,” he said even more irritated than before.
“Shhh,” I kept going.
“Farrah,” he said calmly.
“You know exactly what I’m about to say,” I scolded.
“What? It was on the TV.”
“What channel are you watching?” I asked. “Go. Tell me.” I didn’t to give him enough time to think of a better answer.
“MTV,” he said. I quickly turned my TV to MTV.
“The song just ended,” he said, this time sounding anxious.
“Ryan, I hate to break this to you. MTV hasn’t played a video in probably about ten years, let alone a New Kids On The Block video for Step by Step.”
“Fine. It was on my iPod.”
“Of course, it was.” “Original Step by Step album or Greatest Hits?” I asked.
“You’re not only gay. You’re SUPER gay. I rest my case,” I said and gloated.
“But–” he began.
“I think I just found my mani/pedi partner for today unless you want this to be my status update on Facebook,” I interrupted.
I’m not completely evil, I sweetened the deal, literally, and told him I’d treat to Billy’s Bakery afterwards. He quickly agreed to my terms and an hour later we were on Eighth Avenue getting mani/pedis near the front window for all of Chelsea to see.
Apparently, a vanilla cupcake and some blackmail was enough to forget the purported “gayness” of a manicure from even the “straightest” of gay men.