QColumn: A Gay In The Life: Get Smart

Get Smart
By Steve Prince
“Are you drunk?” I asked, turning to face Cody.
He stopped walking, baiting me. “Tipsy,” he said smiling.
“Ah, he’s fine,” Troy said catching up to us. “He’s a faker.”
Alex, whose arm was around Troy’s shoulder, nodded his head. “It’s true,” he said turning to Cody. “I saw you have only two beers.”
“I’m just in a good mood,” Cody giggled. “It’s been so long since we’ve all been together. Now that almost all of us are single again.”
Cody was right. It had been a long time. Tonight we were enjoying a reunion of sorts by having dinner. However, Cody and Omar diverted us to West Hollywood first to have a pre-dinner drink.
“Where did Omar go?” I asked.
The four of us turned. Two hundred feet behind us stood Omar, talking to some hot Latino boy.

“Wow,” Troy said flatly, “the boy really has a gift, doesn’t he?”
We laughed, but Alex only smirked. He was always a man on the move.
“Ooomarr!” he called, “let’s go. We have to meet Mother Norman for dinner!”
Omar straddled up to the group with a big smile on his face.
***
“Weeelll?” asked Dillon (aka Mother Norman) while taking a sip of water.
“He’s going to get together with him tomorrow,” Omar said politely.
Get together my ass, I thought. “Yeah, if by ‘get together’ you mean, getting stuffed like a Thanksgiving turkey,” I quipped while munching on a chip.
The group laughed, mainly because it was true.
The five us dined on a patio at a West Hollywood restaurant called Obar. The food was okay, but the waiters all looked very hot in their ultra-tight shirts. Yeah, we’re classy.
Dillon rounded on me purposefully. “So who’s ladder have you been trying to climb?” he asked.
“What do you mean?” I asked incredulously. I knew exactly what he meant; Dillon wanted to know if I had gotten anyone’s number. I realized Dillon didn’t know that I was dating Peter.
“Stevie here is practically betrothed,” Cody quipped.
Dillon’s eyes widened and his mouth shot open. I didn’t think it was possible for his face to become any more animated.
“Ooohhh,” he squealed, “get it girl!”
Five minutes later, I’d filled Dillon in on Peter.
“Well,” he asked, “where is he?”
I sighed. I hadn’t been able to see Peter since I had gotten back from D.C. Things just seemed crazy for both of us right now.
“He’s working tonight,” I replied.
“Well, I’ll met him later” Dillon said. “However, you look good. I bet some guys tried to talk to you tonight.”
“Yeah,” I said, “but there wasn’t much to talk about.” I paused holding my words.
“Spit it out,” Alex encouraged.
“Okay,” I said, tossing my napkin onto the table, “I really don’t mean this in an arrogant way or anything. Cuz y’all know I’m not the smartest person in the world—that’s for sure. And y’all know I really try not to be stuck up and I would hate for anyone to think I’m some judgmental queen, but—”
“Oh my God,” Alex wailed, “just say it already!”
“Is it me,” I asked, “or are guys here just not that smart?” I felt stupid saying it. I mean, who was I to say that?
The group’s response shocked me.
“Totally,” Mother Norman spat out decidedly. “You’re noticing it because you just got back from D.C. Guys are smarter there.”
“People, in general, are smarter there,” Alex agreed.
“Really?” I asked, shocked they agreed with me. I kind of thought the comment made me sound like an asshole, but apparently not.
“Totally,” Alex continued, “the people of Washington D.C., per capita, are usually more educated than most cities in the nation. That’s another reason it’s so liberal.”
“Really?” Omar said, now looking surprised.
“Yep,” Alex conferred. “Going to school there was like a hot dork fest. I loved it.”
A “Hmm” came from the corner of the table.
“I dunno about that,” Troy said thoughtfully. “I think in DC there’s a consensus to know a lot about current events, politics, and different cultures. And you’re also surrounded by Ivy League schools, so you’ve got a lot of over-achiever attitude there too. I think here we focus our energies more on glitz and glamour—after all it is Hollywood. It’s not necessarily the ‘thing to do’ to branch right into a debate when you meet someone. Just my two cents.”
“I always love your two cents,” I responded smiling.
Now Alex piped up again. “Well, I’ve lived in Boston and in Los Angeles. When I went out in Boston, people would be interested in fucking but conversations were always about the school you went to, politics, books, and so on. My experience in LA is that guys just talk about themselves, pop culture, and themselves.”
“I agree with both of you,” Dillon said. “I’ll say that when I lived in Detroit, people talked less about music, fashion, pop culture and more about what was going on with people and their lives.”
I felt that too. It wasn’t that conversations in West Hollywood were superficial. It makes sense to talk about show business here; it forms the town. Still, I hadn’t met a lot of guys who talked about their families or their upbringing. I heard far more about their accomplishments or why they moved to LA.
“Well, since you bring it up…” Omar said with a smirk. Omar’s super smart and highly political; she lived for shit like this. We could barely talk to him during the last elections because he stayed so excited about them.
He cleared his throat, “I think Alex and Troy are on the right track but I also believe it depends on where you go. For instance, when I go out to a bar, most of the guys there are looking to hook up; I couldn’t care less where they went to school, what they do for volunteer work, or how they feel about the health care debate. If start talking about that to someone, yes, it may turn into a conversation. But forget about him thinking about how much they want to go home and fuck. In a bar, you want to meet someone who sounds fun, exciting, and adventurous. And that is why I think guys ‘dumb’ themselves down.”
The table took a collective nod of agreement as Omar continued. “Now, when I went to those Social Club gatherings,” he said, “I expected people to ask me what I did for work, where I went to school, etcetera. It feels appropriate to build yourself up there and share accomplishments. Put these same people in a bar situation, and I bet they’ll turn into the ‘dumb’ people I just described. We’re chameleons, we adapt to get what we want.”
Dillon threw his head back and laughed, “Oh Honey, we’ve seen you adapt!”
We all laughed. Omar had a point though. Was I actually living in a sea of geniuses that only playing to get laid? The gays in D.C. conveyed such an energy of knowledge and intelligence, a vibe I often didn’t get in LA. Still, there couldn’t be that many guys dumbing themselves down. As if reading my mind, Cody took a drag from his cigarette and spoke, his raspy voice cutting through the night chill.
“Look,” Cody began, “I don’t know if other guys are dumbing themselves down, but I know I am. As everyone has said, in one way or another the guys here only talk about music, fashion, and the entertainment industry. They’ll ask you what do you do for work and where you live, but that’s about as far as it goes. I can count on one hand the number of political and religious conversations I’ve had in LA in the past eight years, and those are all subjects which I’m passionate about and well-read. Maybe it’s a self-defeating cycle; if I talked about those things more, maybe people would respond, but I don’t because people don’t seem interested.”
Even I forget how smart Cody is sometimes. I mean, he’s really really smart. But I didn’t know that until we had been friends for over a year. He’s right. He does dumb himself down in public; I’ve seen it happen.
“Well,” I said, “that’s a good point. So who’s to blame?”
“We are,” Omar said.
“Maybe,” I said, “or maybe not. When I think about the types of stereotypes perpetuated in the gay male community, being an intelligent gay male isn’t one of them. I mean, yes we’re perceived as smart—smart about fashion, decorating, and musical theater—but it’s rare that you see gay television characters or people in the news that are true ‘Renaissance Men.'”
“Yeah,” Cody said, “I guess you can look at it that way.”
I reshuffled the thoughts in my head, realizing I wasn’t making my point clear. “What I mean is, are we living up to the stereotypes because we’ve been told that’s all we can be?”
The table paused in thought before we continued debating the issue for twenty more minutes.
Drinking too much water, I excused myself to go to the bathroom. As I turned the corner, I came face to face with Peter.
“Hey,” I said casually, not wanting to seem rude. I don’t know why I do that? I didn’t feel casual at all. I was totally caught off guard. Damn Southern upbringing. It’s a sin to be rude in the South.
Peter looked much more surprised than I was.
“Oh, hey babe,” he said trying to be casual.
“What are you doing here?” I asked. I usually like it when he calls me babe, but this just annoyed the shit out of me.
“Well, um,” he said shuffling in place.
“I thought you were at work,” I said flatly. I hate being lied to.
“I am,” Peter said sheepishly. “Want me to get you a free beer?”
I froze, completely confused and wondering what the fuck was going on. As I glared at Peter, it was obvious I was about to find out.
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Years after moving from Oklahoma, Steve Prince is still acclimating to the gay scene in Los Angeles—he’s a slow learner. By trial and error and a lot of sex, his mission is to make the uncomfortable, comfortable. Also it should be known that he is gayer than butt sex.
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Previously, on A Gay In The Life:
The Birds and The Birds
Lyin’, & Twinks, & Bears—Oh My!
Going Public
Christmas in July
Luck Be A Lady Tonight
I Left My Heart In Oklahoma
As Luck Would Have It
Shock & Awe
Blame It On Britney
The Unending Journey
Makin’ Copies
Bullets and Bracelets… and Lube
To Tell The Truth…
Stars Aren’t Blind
The Dark Knight
Come As You Are
A Date?
A Happy Ending
Better Than Nothing
A Man With A Slow Hand
Taking The Long Way
Everybody Knows
Wake Me Up, Before Ya Go-Go
Definition
The Best
The Upper Hand
Hit Me With Your Best Shot
2000-Date
Dick The Halls
The Queer Dear
A Night At The Museum
A Conversation
I’m Just A Girl Who Can’t Say No
Change The Way You Feel
Kissing A Fool
Leo The Lamb
The Elephant In The Room
Zuckerman’s Famous Pig
A Birthday Surprise
The Sleepover-er
SP Phone Home
Out of the Frying Pan and into the Closet
What If…
Just Beat It
Intimate Portrait
Intimate Portrait (Part Deux)
Intimate Portrait (Part Trois)
State of Mind
The Age of Disbelief
A Man For All Seasons
Summer Lovin’
A-Men
The Urge
Gettin’ It Done
Here You Cum Again
Eye Of The Beholder
The Present
A Minute’s Pause
Brotherly Love
Ladies Who Lunch
Here Cums The Rain Again
Dinner For Two
Blow by Blow
Commando
Cum As You Are?
Aftershock!
Caught in the Act
The Great Compromise
The Tipping Point
Cross Country
In Stereo