Tuesday, August 01, 2017

I Started a Joke

.....the best laid plans.......

Four years ago, I had this scathing brilliant idea to prank my would-be friend, Mike.

You see, Mike was once on the Bachelor. It's true. I mean - it's kind of true. He even wrote about it here.

So four years ago Mike was supposed to see us in Maine for just a few hours. But as luck would have it, he ghosted me. The plan involved just me and my friend Morty. I never got to execute said plan.

Fast forward four years, three weeks and a day (but who's counting?) and I have arranged to meet Mike for drinks dinner whilst in Boston. As it turns out, his husband, Peter, decided he'd rather stay in a remote part of Massachusetts with the dog than to be seen in public with me.  It's hard to see a down side from his perspective.  Since we didn't have Peter as a counterbalance 710 did not join either. Another wise move.

Still, I had the idea to launch my scathingly brilliant idea anyways - though an audience would have been better. Of course, it would help if the butt of the joke (hehehe....I said 'butt'), had not descended into early on-set Alzheimer's.

So.....Blobby heads to Club Cafe. Just to be clear, you enter through a single door where if you go downstairs, you go into a crossfit studio. If you stay on the main level you're in a gay bar. Quite the juxtaposition.

Scratch that.  It's Club Cafe is not just a gay bar. If you go to the left, they have seating and beyond that a piano bar.  If you go straight, it's just a bar with high tables. If you go further back there is dancing....and if you got somewhere to the right......and I shit you not......they're having a staging of Waiting for Gadot.  If you had thrown in a hair and nail salon, this place was gay nirvana.

As it turns out, I was Waiting for Gamike.....as he was 15 minutes late, texting and mocking me his entire walk.

His tardiness gave me time to put my plan into action.  I spoke with the maitre d' who wrangled the man who would be our waiter, Rafael, who happily agreed to participate.

Mike arrives........finally!!!......and being the man in this relationship, I order for both of us.

Is it scary that I know what he drinks? This place doesn't have blue-cheese stuffed olives. I'm surprised he doesn't pound his fists on the table and storm off in a huff. He struggles on through the adversity. He....is.....a......survivor!

When Rafael returns with the booze, he says to Mike, he says......."Don't I know you from somewhere?  Weren't you on the Bachelor".

Rafael pulls it off flawlessly.

Then with all the subtlety of a lead balloon falling from the heavens, Mike goes, "no.....that wasn't me. I wasn't on the Bachelor".  

Rafael looks at be for a nanosecond and I just wanted to pound my head on the table. Instead I say calmly, "that's not true......you even wrote about it",  to which a light (a night one, I'm guessing) went off in his head. He turns to Rafael and says to him he says (and in complete seriousness) ......"I can't believe you saw me on that and actually remember" (I'm paraphrasing, of course).

Now I really want to pound my head on the table.

So with perfect execution and delivery, a joke can still bomb. I still feel it was worth the effort. And the 25% tip I gave to Rafael.

My original plan was to meet Mike and Peter for drink in Maine and have a never been seen before Morty run in with paper and pen asking for Mike's autograph, for being on the Bachelor.  Maybe a four year time difference would have jarred Mike's dementia.

I suppose his blog wasn't title "short attention span theater" for nothing.

Poor Mike wanted to show Rafael pictures proving he was indeed on show, but Rafael didn't really seem that interested.  Can you blame him?

As for the rest of the evening, I cannot speak for Mike, but I had a faboo time. He's as witty as it comes - mostly at my expense, but I can take it. The conversation was easy and fun.....though not doubt helped on by three margaritas and a beer.....and one-third of a martini.

Yes, Mike didn't finish his third martini. It wasn't cold enough he said. He's a fussy one, that Mike. So I used the rest of his alcohol to show him the proper way to Sammy Jo his drink.....and yes, "to Sammy Jo" is a verb. He wasn't as impressed as one might think.

Oh we had dinner too. Welllllllll......we had nachos.


We may have found people in the bar at which to poke fun, and it was all in good fun. We meandered back to the dance area too. We did not dance. He never asked {sob}. And until some Diana Ross song came on, we were the oldest people in the vicinity.  And since Mike is like 7 months older, he was the oldest.

Oh oh oh.......embarrassing moment....for me. I came baring gifts. As you might know, I lost big time to our  6th Annual Academy Award Guessing Game®   The problem was, I had not paid up yet on our wager. So on the way to Club Cafe (really.  such a gay name!), I hit Georgetown cupcakes and bought his winnings. I'm never squelching on a bet.

He was very gracious about this. And somehow he roped me into probably losing again for the Emmy awards.

Anyhoo.....I'm standing there holding his bag of cupcakes and some lesbian comes and tells me I'm not allowed to have packages near the dance floor and that I'll have to coat check them. It was annoying, so we left.

Now, only as I type this do I see my folly. It's been over five years since I've been to a gay anything, and Pulse has happened since then. I suppose having packages in a gay club probably is seen with different eyes than it used to. I'll have Mike apologize to her the next time he goes back.

For as much as I tease him, Mike is a great guy.  Just don't ever tell him I told ya so.

Song by: the Bee-Gees


anne marie in philly said...

"If you go straight, it's just a bar with high tables." - gigglesnort!

Will J said...

Quit bragging about standing next to the dance floor holding your big package