Tuesday, August 14, 2007

the pines, playing dress up, a single straight man

fire island is less than a 2 hour train ride from the city. it has three main sections: 1.) a straight section that attracts the college kids (and college kid wannabes) who all believe that they're on MTV's spring break 2.) the gays and 3.) the lesbians.

the gay section is called "the pines." all my gays get a half-share (every other week) out there for the summer. this weekend i went out to visit. the pines is amazing. you take a lovely 20 minutes ferry ride out and it docks in the main part of town. all along the port there are bars and restaurants with huge decks/patios so all the gays with their cosmos can wave in the incoming visitors on the boat.

there are no sidewalks here, just a series of boardwalks with sands and tall grasses on either side. it definitely feels like a tiny town nested in the top of a tree. one big swiss family robinson adventure.

at the house, all the boys put on heels and dresses. i combed out their wigs. they are hopeless with makeup so i put on their eyeshadow and mascara. some bronzer on their cheeks. we sang loudly and danced to cher, to various show tunes, britney and madonna. we made jello shots and played card games that involved taking shots of tequila. it was just like when i was 11, playing dress up with my mom's makeup. except these were men and we were drinking alcohol. but i did feel very mother hennish throughout the evening as these grown men transformed into giddy girls.

we headed to an "underwear party" at which i wore a swimsuit (i'd brought nothing but thongs and was not about to walk around with my ass out, even if i was hanging with a hundred gays). then this guy walks over to me and says, "the dj wants to talk to you." "what?!" i replied, thinking that there was no fucking way i was getting hit on in a gay club in the pines. "the dj wants you to come talk to him." "yeah, sure!" i say and the guy walks off. then 20 minutes later some other guy comes up to me, "you!" he says, pointing at me. "i've been looking everywhere for you! the dj has my clothes and won't give them back until brought you over to him."

so this poor naked boy drags me over to the dj, who i then realize was the first guy who came up to me who i ignored. he's actually pretty cute but he's a dj...which means he's poor. "listen," i say, "i come out here to get away from straight men. i'm here at this club, practically naked, only because i assume there will be no straight men here to ogle me. you are ruining this. please stop." he apologizes and gives me this sob story about how he never has time to meet women. i'm like, "dude! you signed up for this. you knew exactly what you were getting yourself into!" but we chat briefly. he gets my number even though i told him i'm not going to call him. "okay, i'm going to call you once. i'll wait a few days and i'll call you again. after that, i promise i'll leave you alone."

with that i return to my boys. there's a lot of stroking going on. poor justy gets hard after this fug dude starts rubbing up against him. he panics and looks to me for help. i run over to him to hide his hard-on and we talk of his grandmother's meatloaf, and whether you should ever put pickle relish in a deviled egg until he goes limp. "you are the bestest friend ever!" he says to me.

that's what friends are for, my dear. that's what friends are for.

saturday was spent at the beach on what was one of the most beautiful days i can remember. a bbq follows and i head back into the city, back to my concrete city, back to the heterosexual people.

3 people who played with me:

Blogger cadiz12 said...

what's wrong with poor? you don't want to be somebody's sugar mamma?

8/14/2007 11:12 AM  
Blogger jazz said...

i should clarify. there's nothing wrong with poor, per se.

but if the dude isn't going to have any money to take me to dinner, i want him to be an intellectual. i want him in politics or i want him to be getting a PhD.

DJing doesn't cut it.

8/14/2007 11:17 AM  
Blogger Peter DeWolf said...

So many things to comment on. I choose...

You're a hard-on hider? Where were YOU in my 6th grade math classes?

8/14/2007 11:24 AM  

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