Lola and I were waiting for the elevator in the lobby of my building when I heard someone in the throes of ecstasy. “Oh, yeah, give it to me, right there, yeah, oh, yeah, uh-huh, that’s right, oh daddy, yeah, harder.”
I spun around to find Derek, a young, chubby Dominican boy, straddling the staircase banister, grinning and giggling. I had met Derek and his parents in the hallway a few nights ago and was especially impressed with his maturity and politeness but now he was grinding and thrusting into the banister, possibly the result of having found a poorly-hidden porn DVD. “Oh yeah, papi, right there, yeah, uh-huh, yeah, faster, yeah, oh, riiiiiight therrrrrrre!”
My face reddened with embarrassment and a confused Lola cocked her head to the side, her ears standing up at full attention. The elevator door opened and we quickly scurried inside, leaving Derek alone in the lobby, calling out for his papi to bring it home while mashing his chubby, prepubescent pelvis into the banister.
Kristoff joined Phillip and I for a screening of The Women. He arrived late, flailing his arms and kissing us on the cheek. What I thought to be a small plastic bag in his hand turned out to be a clutch.
Marty slipped his shoes off and contorted his legs to put his dainty and sockless feet on the seat. Within the first few minutes of the film, it became apparent that he was a talker.
“Who is she?” he asked across my lap to Phillip.
“Annette Benning,” said an annoyed Phillip.
“She’s married to Warren Beatty.”
Twenty minutes later…
“I didn’t know Sarah Jessica Parker was in this.”
“That’s Meg Ryan,” I said with a curt whisper. What kind of gay man carries a clutch but doesn’t know Sarah Jessica Parker is?