The Former Traveling Spotlight

The tales of a "30" something gay former stand-up comic living in NYC who is searching for his soul mate or soul...which ever comes first.





Monday, October 29, 2007

Why?

Can someone please explain to me why is it that I always attract men that already HAVE boyfriends? Aren't there any single men in this city left?

Patrick - 12:42 PM -








Friday, October 19, 2007

Making the Cut

Fashion and sex have many parallels, but the one thing sex has over fashion is that it's a lot more affordable. Walk into a Marc Jacobs store and if you are anything like me, you will likely be able to afford one item every other month...provided you don't eat. God bless Uniqlo and $25 jeans.

Getting dick in this town is much cheaper...mainly because of supply issues. You can find dick just about anywhere you go. You can get it in the gym, the bars, the neighborhoods...hell...you can even get Spotted Dick at the grocery store (however if you get spotted dick anywhere...and it's attached to a human, I'd suggest referring them to the free clinic). As a gay man, it's easy to get dick...and it's good.

Except.

What happens when the dick isn't that good?

Enter "Dr. Dirty" (because he likes talking dirty), a late 30's, very successful (i.e...no more student loans, owns a loft in Soho and a summer house on Fire Island), fascinating man who seems to have it all. He's got a career he's passionate about, and as a doctor, he's got job security. A great sense of humor, with an optimistic personality. He cooks for a hobby (and in fact has a culinary degree "for fun"), enjoys athletics, and has tickets to nearly every show in town. He's also uncut.

I mean really uncut. We're talking more than two handfuls of excess sausage casing, and I'm the first to admit this...I'm known for getting things caught in my teeth. So the first time, thankfully the lights were out. But just like when you feel a pimple on someones butt, the more you know it's there...the bigger it gets in your mind.

Now I'm not really against the uncut men...as I've had my share of them. Ok...so I may have had other people's share as well...but even for me, this monstrosity of excess is a bit much. Part of me is trying to think of ways to deal with it, while the other part of me is wondering how I could sneak a pair if scissors to the bedroom without his noticing. Hell, I could make a sling shot!

So sitting here today I'm wondering, is it time to just cut my losses?

Patrick - 1:49 PM -








Wednesday, October 17, 2007

Where Class and Crass Collide

The other night, I arrived at the prescribed address for a catering gig as requested. Like all events, I have no clue who is going to be there, or what the event is until after I arrive. That being said, over the weekend I served (not serviced) Anderson Cooper. I've also been lucky enough to squeeze Brad Pitt's bicep while moving past him in a large crowd (Yes Angelina...you may have him...but I saw him first!). But the other night was very unique.

The only information I had was the address to show up at, and that a uniform would be provided, so I didn't need to bring any special clothing. With that in mind, I wore jeans and a t-shirt. Upon arriving and showing identification to security, I walked into a gallery like space, that had been converted into cocktail lounge. Oddly enough, I knew I had seen the place before and by the end of the night, recognized it as the setting from a television show. I was sent to the kitchen to meet with the supervisor and get my assignment.

I should have known where this night was going when I looked at the other staff. Eight other men, all...how should I put this...buff...and me, sitting in the kitchen getting assignments to make appetizers until "wardrobe" was ready for us. One by one, they were taking guys back into the wardrobe area for what I assumed was a uniform fitting. I was the second to the last to be taken.

Marching me down the hall, they handed me a pair of black underwear and some black boots and informed me that I would be wearing that, and the rest of my costume would be painted on. Yes...they painted a tuxedo on my body.

Once again, most cater waiters are also actors and models. Most cater waiters have abs you can bounce quarters off of. Most cater waiters don't eat carbohydrates. I'm not your typical cater waiter...except that I also need the job.

There I was, shirtless, in underwear, painted to look like I was still wearing clothes, with my nipples giving away just how cold I was. That's COLD...NOT TURNED ON. Of course...this event is just a step for me. I'm going to make it...someday, so I took it like a champ and went in the back to gather my wits, and appetizer to pass in the crowd.

My job would be to walk down an under lit runway and walk through the audience with passed appetizers of Hearts of Palm with Saffron Aioli and Salmon Roe. Basically, vegetables served with a little beefcake.

The audience was an invitation event for a premium scotch tasting, where the primary audience members were lawyers at several law firms. If you didn't know this, the average starting salary for a corporate lawyer in this city is $170,000. These people have cash to spend. They are definitely considered "upper class"!

However, these people have also not eaten in about 30 days, as the moment I walked out onto the runway, three female lawyers walked up onto the stage and took all 30 appetizers off my plate and asked that I go back to get them more.

Like pigs at the trough, these people attacked the appetizer buffet, and when I walked out with a plate of chicken skewers, I finally understood why I was wearing so little clothing. If I had been wearing clothes...these people would have eaten the clothes off of my arms. I actually have a scratch down my back from some skanky woman who was desperate to get a cheese puff!

This is what female strippers go through. My supervisor, feeling bad that the evening was so difficult, raised our pay rates to a proper $40/hr...but even that doesn't block the image of the woman taking an entire plate of Pigs in the Blanket out of my arms and demanding that I "bring her more"!

Have some class lawyers...you can buy yourself some dinner on the way home.

Patrick - 4:55 PM -








Tuesday, October 16, 2007

Pencil Me In

I've recently found myself is a familiar predicament. A situation I've not been in for a while.

Back when I first met the Ex, we started spending all of our free time together. As this went on, our friends saw less and less of us. In fact, it got so bad that one friend called me and left a message asking that I verify I was still at that telephone number since I never spoke to him anymore.

I ended up feeling guilty for the neglect and made a conscious effort to make time for my friends as well, but the boyfriend still took up so much of my time.

I'm breaking a cardinal rule and stating something I wouldn't normally do. I've been in a relationship for the last month, and I've realized that "absent friend" syndrome is happening again. I'm not seeing them as much as I'd like to, but at the same time, I do need to nurture this new thing going on in my life...at least for now. Hell, I don't even has as much time to blog as I used to.

The problem? When the fuck did I get into a relationship with my job as a catering waiter and how the hell can I date during this horrendous schedule? Thank god for sex buddies! "Yes...I still have time for a sex date on Sunday from 7 until 10, but let's leave that tentative in case my boyfriend, the catering service, calls."

Patrick - 8:55 AM -








Wednesday, October 10, 2007

Meeting The Inlaws

Getting involved in a relationship is always complicated. Beyond getting to know one another, learning and trust enough to let your guard down, and eventually saying those precious words ("The money is on the dresser."), you eventually have to do something that everyone dreads. Introducing them to your family.

No...not the blood family, but rather those people that are such good friends, we call them family. These are the people who know us better than we know ourselves, and the people we trust with our most intimate details. They know exactly what went wrong in our prior relationships and although they might not understand why we hurt, they still stand beside us. These people are expected to judge us and our potential other partners.

Now I'm not at all likely to introduce anyone I've been seeing lately to any of my family. Hell, I can count on one hand the number of potentials that my family has actually met (does it count if you and the potential are no longer together when your family meets them?). However, that isn't where I'm going with this right now.

What happens if you have different sets of family? Different groups that really don't know each other?

For instance, I've got several friends groups here in NYC and besides me...they have nothing in common. Having these groups meet invites something short of disaster. What if they don't get along?

This is exactly what happened this past summer. I introduced two people from two different facets of my family (think distant cousins) and although they were cordial to each other, but they just didn't get mesh. Worlds collided and I was stuck in the middle. Eventually, I had to excuse myself, as the level of discomfort was just too much.

More importantly, these two familial sets never agree (although they don't know it). While one side suggests I do one thing (call him...he likes you), the other side is saying something completely different (dump him like a used condom!). Neither of which was good advice.

Where's Dr. Phil when I need him?

Patrick - 12:37 PM -








Tuesday, October 02, 2007

One Night Only

As we get older and still remain single, we all reach that point where we just want sex. The feeling of another person doing the things you need, and you repaying the favor. For whatever reason, we have needs and we will do what's necessary to meet them. Call it solace for being alone, or just substituting your own hand for someone else's. Yes it's sex, and it's casual.

The problem with casual sex, and specifically one night stands are that we all have our own ideas as to what a one night stand really is. Do we exchange names, or do they even matter at all? Does a one night stand really just make the participants into unpaid prostitutes, or is it really an audition for something a bit more involved. Is "shut the door on your way out" an appropriate ending to what really is a meaningless night? And really...is it meaningless?

I've had friends who met their partners on what was supposed to be a one night stand. They went back to one of their respective apartments and next they they knew, they were picking out china patterns.

That being said...in my case...one night is really all I have to spare.

Patrick - 10:35 AM -








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