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Rusty is a Homosexual

Straight Men: The New Black

'Gay, but not Narrow' is a tragically hip event desperate to make it into the the pages of Jezebel Magazine. (You know, that trashy rag Heather Leary made it into.) Located around the corner from the effervescence of Crescent, Beige, I believe, is a cocktail bar in Tangier, a restaurant. Now I may have that relationship totally wrong, but all you need to know is some dude with a lot of money and not many design smarts hired someone to decorate this place and got Pottery Barn on crack.

While I see places like this as a pimple on the social scene, if you're an upscale, uppity queen being kept hostage to a post-modern corporate daddy in a Four Seasons Condo, this is the place for you. Not too far from your 'trick for dollars' roots at the Metro, and close enough to home once Daddy's dropped you into the latest D&G fashions. You can mingle for your boy of the evening to take home to Daddy, where you'll soak in the jacuzzi tub as daddy scrubs both of your backs. This is a hard-core S&M (stand and model) bar where those who can no longer risk spilling house vodka on their blouse in cattle clubs like Blakes, retire to bask in the glow of top-shelf spills.

I once went. Not because I'm a former go-go boy being kept on a leash, and daddy gave me $50 for a little happy hour frivolity (although, he did give me $50), but rather, they advertised "hair cutting demonstrations" and "what's coming this fall in men's hair styles." "How," I wondered to myself, "are they going to demonstrate hair cutting to a crowd of overly judgemental queens in a cocktail setting? And more importantly, who would ever sit down to have their hair cut in front of a crowd of cocktailed people?"

There are certain things you just don't do publicly: powder your testicular sack to avoid chafing; trim nasal hair; file bunions and corns. You don't even do these if you're in a locker room. Cutting hair is the same; it's something you do in private. It's a moment when you sit down with a person you never really get to know, and prim, crop, and chop whatever you may or may not have. He or she discretely trims that wire hair coming from the mole on the back of your neck as you have the same conversation from the month before. And you do this in an environment where everyone around you is doing the same thing. Not having cocktails and discussing over a dish how you'll land the dish on the other side of the room.

I was disappointed. The hair cutting demonstration was the only thing cut -- they had a video that ran on monitors, like leaving the TV in you family room set to an infomercial while you host a dinner party. They had shrimp cocktail--wedged between a fancy logo in front, and a pretty boy who couldn't speak in complete sentences in the back--with a sauce that was simply Publix brand mixed with a splash of Tabassco. The conversation that unfolded around us focused on how many body parts around the room had fallen victim to one's lip service, and the ensuing noises that resulted.

But, I believe, there is potential for this crowd that is worth considering. It centers around the 'not narrow' part of the evening, and expanding that concept. On the surface, one might think they're trying to appeal to a mostly gay crowd, while keeping the door open to welcome their trendy fag hags. The goal to present the appearance of being all-inclusive, while still being blatantly exclusive. The execution is what fails, in that it becomes mostly a gay crowd trying to remind themselves they are not narrow. (They're willing to try any new trendy cocktail, duh!)

I say we throw open that closet door and make the straight man the gay man's new best friend. The straight man exhibits a sexy butchness that doesn't go away the minute he sees a roach. Just as handy as a lesbian with a shed of power tools, and with genuine masculine sex appeal. Forget the dramatic baggage of a real boyfriend, the straight man can offer all the same companionship, and at the end of the night heads home to his barefoot and pregnant wife. Straight men - the new black - goes with anything. Get one hanging on your arm today.

That would shake-up these Midtown queens. That would force them to expand their horizons. So the next time I go to a 'gay but not narrow' mixer at Beige @ Tangier, you sir Hockey Shaun, will be tagging along, holding my hand, fashion accessory to the new star of the Midtown scene.

Ultra Sound

I obviously don't know how to read an ultrasound.

Nicely Done

Becoming a Discovered Great

Tonight I’ll be going to see David Sedaris at Symphony Hall with Andrew. It’s fascinating to watch an author read, who exhibits the signs of stage fright; his insecurities visible to the world. I find myself wondering how does it happen? How does a person go from being a struggling, unknown, to the next discovered great?

Sometimes, I’m convinced it’s nothing more than time and place. Much more than new talent brilliantly breaking on the scene. I wonder, what it would be like to sit before an audience, and read.