Here's something to consider: if you're gay, and you are meeting your friends for a "boys' night out," is your partner invited? Do you want your partner to be invited? I mean, it's great to have him along and all, but is it truly a "boys' night out" if you're spouse is there? Is this also true for lesbians and "girls' night out?"
Last night I met a bunch of guys from my fraternity at Cha Cha Cha in the Mission and, yes, the gay fraternity brothers did come accompanied by their partners. Delightful these partners were, so I'm not complaining. I'd just never thought about this loophole that exists for gay couples, and as I noted above, I'm not even sure it's a loophole. Regardless, Sandra Bullock and the Jawa stayed home.
Once a frat boy, always a frat boy, I suppose, because once arranged around tables in a bar, we immediately went back to our frat boy ways. Drinks were ordered by the round, whether you'd finished the previous round or not. Voices were raised. High-fives were exchanged.
We drank late into the night. Even Tom and Cameron, who would be leaving for Vietname the following morning, slammed down the cocktails. Wait, that makes it sound like this is 1968 and they were both drafted. No, they're going for a 3-week vacation. There will be no "Apocalypse Now" moments for them, where they cut themselves with glass and dance around to the Doors while bleeding all over an overheated hotel room. Only noodles, and perhaps, knowing Cameron, unusual hats.
When I awoke this morning, I found that I had become a realtor version of Nick Nolte in "Teachers," only without the righteous anger. I threw on some clothes, silently thanking the lord for inventing dry cleaning, and have spent the morning shuffling through 2 million dollar homes, pretending to have the flu. It's moments like this that I feel somewhat guilty that I don't smoke. If you're going to be gross, why not go all the way?
Alas, I have limits on my self-destructiveness. That, plus this weird need to not be homeless, keeps me from being a real artist.
Note to all frat boys: Frank does not lie. The "hottest bartender in the world" really does work at TKs in West Portal. I will never doubt you again, Frank.
And to Mod Marky, you were missed last night. Expect many emails from surprising sources, unless that was the Seagrams talking...