Vanguard: A Miscellany

Week In Review '08.22

5/24 – I wasn’t sure what the plan was for Saturday.  It was one of those rare occasions when I left the day clear for anything and everything, thinking that some last minute event that required my attendance may turn up.  Didn’t happen.  Just the sort of rehearsal dinner at noon at Hollywood Park. 

 

I have to hand it to my sister: it was a unique rehearsal event where a good number of her guests showed up at the racetrack to not only be assigned their tasks for the wedding itself, but to spend an afternoon betting on the horses. 

 

5/25 – It was Virna’s big day.  My barong (traditional Filipino shirt) ripped as I was helping to set up.  The fabric is pretty delicate.  The woman in charge of the floral arrangements showed up so late that there was no way for Virna to get the bouquet for her entrance.  Aside from that, everything went off without a hitch.

 

Oh and I had a little crush on the wedding photographer—twenty eight, huge home in Santa Barbara, fantastically wealthy, and cute as a button.  I just have to off his girlfriend, convince him that being gay and being Christian is not necessarily mutually exclusive, then turn him gay.

 

5/26 – I had brunch with Razor Burn and Unicorn.  We’re the oddest set of friends.  They had gone to Lake Havasu for the long weekend with a bunch of other people, so it had been almost four days since I’d seen them.  As I waited for them to pick me up, I heard footsteps in the hallway, running.  I knew it had to be them, and as soon as I opened the door I found myself in a big group hug with both of them yelling “I missed my, Vanny.”  How cute are they?  The cool thing is they were being totally sincere, even though it was also meant to be kind of funny.

 

After brunch at Toast and a little shopping, I headed up to Smooth’s gym where I went as his guest to the company Memorial Day picnic after which we went to the jobsite of my Job #2 for some alone time.  And after that alone time,  it was like a light switch.  All of a sudden, not much interest in him.  Oh well…next guy I guess.

 

5/27 –Nothing really.  Unicorn made me promise to call some guy she thought would be great for me.  He was a stylist at the place she gets her hair done.  She’d talked me up, and he gave her his card.  I checked out the website listed.  He wasn’t exactly my type, but whatever.  So I called.  We talked.  It was pleasant, and I voluntarily sent him a picture of me.  It was only fair.

 

5/28 – So this is the e-mail response I got the following day:

 

“I never forget a face and i think i know of u. U do the circuit scene at all? Do u know Lawrence Nolan or Mark Chung? I think we may have crossed paths at some point.

What a trip.

I appreciate the call and thought you were very nice and cool.

I am dating a couple of guys now and my plate is full with that and the plans i have made this summer with friends. So im goin to say it was nice mtg you and if we run into each other at some point, please feel free to say hello.”

 

WTF?  And what a great way to start a day that ended with being on call.

 

5/29 – Typical Thursday.  Job #1 followed by Job #2.  I worked kind of late and grabbed a quick happy hour drink with Sunshine and Razor Burn before driving down to WeHo to grab drinks for O Bar happy hour. 

 

5/30 – I went to work out with my trainer, and he ramped up the intensity.  Holy shit I was fatigued, but he said he was going to get me where I wanted to be since we’re getting close to pool party season.  Yeah, it’s now a fucking season.  And then at the end of it, he said, “If you don’t have any plans, we should go to Eleven tonight.”  I don’t know what to make of that.

 

Anyway, I already had plans.  Sunshine and his wife, Razor Burn, Unicorn and I went out for dinner at the Sherman Oaks Galleria where all these crazy ass women were dressed in what I guess they thought were Carrie-like outfits for the opening day showings of Sex and the City.  They were wrong!  Holy crap, those outfits were scary.   After dinner, we took in a 10:00 showing of Indiana Jones.  Meh!  Didn’t live up to the hype.

I Do

Marriage.  It's been the topic of conversation lately.  All of the time actually, and frankly I didn't know how my parents would react.  This would, for them, be unconventional.  It wouldn't be right.  It wasn't in God's plan, or more importantly theirs.  No priest to officiate.  No church.  Obviously no church, and particularly no Catholic church.  But they did OK.  I think they were on their best behavior knowing that if they somehow fucked up on this day, made it about them, they would have to deal with the aftermath of having all three of their kids pissed at them.  They're OK with occasionally pissing off one of us.  On rare occasions two.  But I think they would crumble if all three of us were pissed at them.  
 
In truth, they did better than OK.
 
Despite the gay men.  Despite the bull dykes.  Despite the bull dykes dancing with my sister, they did OK.  My mom even had fun, tearing it up on the dance floor, joining in on the festivities, even participaitng in the Hora.  My dad doesn't dance.  He just kept to himself and the few family friends that had been invited.  But he handled it well, better than expected.
 
My older sister Virna got married this Sunday.  She got married at Santa Anita.  That's where her husband works as a horse trainer.  She did this whole equestrian theme for her wedding.  The ceremony took place on the winner's circle, and while those in the wedding marched down the aisle, Virna did something different.  The guests kept waiting, eyes fixed on the door through which my mom, my sister, the flower girl, the ring bearer and I had entered from.  She however came down the racetrack, my father accompanying her, both seated in a carriage drawn by two thoroughbreds.  It was beautiful.  She was beautiful.  And no, she didn't have a priest.  Instead, she had a black female pastor officiating the marriage of a Filipino bride to a Jewish groom.  The readings weren't all Biblical; only one was actually.  The others were poetry and one, an excerpt from The Velveteen Rabbit.  There wasn't Holy Communion or a unity candle.  But there was the release of two white doves and the breaking of a glass.
 
And still my parents seemed very happy for Virna, even though we all knew they had their reservations.
 
And yes there were gays.  Me and a friend of Virna's from her internship.  And there were the lesbians.  They were colleagues of the groom.  I guess lesbians are to horse training as the gays are to fashion; of course they were there.  And still my parents were OK.
 
Makes me wonder how OK they would be should I actually decide to get married, cause apparently now I can.  Course, that means I'd have to find someone to marry first.  

The Talk

How do I tell him?  I'm not sure exactly what to say.  There's no script.  And if there was, that would be lame.  So how do I tell him?  It's weird because it's not like I've never done it before.  I've done it a lot before...with other people.  I just don't remember how exactly.  And I think there's something insincere about trying to reach back into my head and remember what I said to other people and make it work for this, for him.  Cut and paste.  It doesn't feel right.  It's not sincere.

And so I start, the words just coming out of my mouth.  I think it makes sense, but I'm not sure.  There's a lot of pauses, making sure to give enough opportunity for him to ask questions along the way.  That and it gives me time to think of something to say, something smart, maybe.

But he has no questions.  Occassionally, he mumbles a "mm hmm" just to be polite, to let me know he's listening to the words that just seem to go on and on and on.  And I just keep going because I think the silence would be far more uncomfortable...at least for me.  He just stares at the ceiling, and I'm sure he hears me the way Charlie Brown hears all adults "mwa mwa mwa mwa mwa."

Even now, not long after delivering the news, I don't remember exactly what I said except that somewhere along the way, the words "metasatic liver cancer" made it into my little conversation. I do remember two things I said.  "I'm sorrry" and "I wish I was better at these things."

And I remember those are the two things I have always said in talks like these. 

Three Months

In some cases, it's not long at all.  In others it's an eternity.  Sometimes, it is just the right amount of time. 

Last year, as we were saying our goodbyes on an O Bar Thursday, Fishering asked Injun "So how long have you and Van been dating now?" to which Injun responded, "Almost three months."  I think Injun was surprised if not put off when Fishering, in his half joking, half serious way replied, "Three months?  Three months.  I guess it's getting to that time, huh?"

In his mind three months was the appropriate length of time to decide whether to shit or get off the pot, fish or cut bait.  A week later, I was single again.  

It's been three months almost to the day since I met Smooth (a.k.a. Secret), since the straights arranged that "business" meeting.  We've had some awkward starts and stops.  I've had some frustrations, a lot of frustrations.  And every time I thought I was done, he would call or text and say just enough to make me think "maybe this can still work out". 

Yesterday, we had another date.  He looked cute, really cute.  He told me at the end that he picked out what he wore cause he knew I'd like it.  It was sweet.  And the date?  It was unique and fun and sensual.  

And as I drove home, I thought "three months."  It's a lot of time.  Enough to know I'm done shitting, done fishing.  I'm off the pot and cutting bait.  

Comme Ca

For the last few months, the place that's generated a buzz around L.A. has been Comme Ca. Last night, Razor Burn, Unicorn and I decided to check it out.

It's pretty spectucular. The space was pleasant, understated and not overbearingly kitschy--no Eiffel Towers, no bordello reds, no Victorian lighting. Chalkboards and aprons gave just a hint of Le Provence. The food, however, was refreshing in being unapologetically French in the heart of health conscious, carb conscious, fat conscious West Hollywood.

We started with the East Side Cocktail which I later discovered could be adjusted with individual choice of liquor and corresponding name change. Try it with tequila...yumm. The Rumble was a little odd though. Kind of like those shaved ice desserts of childhood except with alcohol. Then we had the escargots Persillade which was all kinds of garlicy, buttery goodness. Coq au vin left a little to be desired, but the Wild Salmon with gnocchi (wait that's not totally French) was very satisfying.

The desserts looked good, but way too full.

The best part of the night though? Our waiter was a dirty blonde with a slim fit, short sleeved, gingham shirt that showed off the most amazing set of arms. Oh so HOT. Even Razor Burn agreed: "I gotta say, that is one good looking man.

So food? Four stars. Wait staff? Five...although based on the pants I'm guessing at least eight and a half.

Oh and there was also a celeb sighting...Mr. Jay from America's Next Top Model--a lot taller than I would have thought.

Week in Review '08.20

5/10 - You'd think past experience would've taught me to temper my excitement with some reserve, but all I could focus on was the date. I couldn't get past clients at Job #2 quickly enough. I couldn't get through all the little errands I had to do before he arrived quickly enough. It turns out, however, I could, and then I couldn't get through waiting for him to arrive at 7:30 quickly enough.

And despite all the unfounded excitement and the disappointment of the perfect planned romantic date fall apart, it was still quite nice. Just a quiet night, unassuming evening with Secret.

5/11 - My day of rest was anything but. I took my parents out for a Mother's Day lunch. The restaurant? Her choice. The interiors were exposed red brick, but not natural brick red. It was a glossy fire engine red. And the molding? Yellow. Not butter yellow. Canary yellow. My mother fawned over how great the service was and how quickly they brought out the food. Under five minutes between ordering and presentation, I shit you not. Somehow, I remain unconvinced that that's really a good thing. I think my mom chose the place just to piss off her gay son.

I dropped them off at their home and had to make my way to the Grove just to cleanse the palate. I picked up Dutch along the way, and we spent a pleasant afternoon watching Iron Man. That movie kicks ass.

I had made dinner plans with the Straights but since Razor Burn called to confirm while I was in the movie and I couldn't respond because, well, I was in the movie, he and his girlfriend made other plans. As it turned out Guido was just across the street, and so he met up with Dutch and me for drinks and a nice little dinner at the Whisper Lounge at the Grove.

It was a nice day.

5/12 - I worked out with my trainer and called it a night.

5/13 - Just because of our failed attempt to meet for dinner on Sunday, the Straights and I got together for dinner on Tuesday at Iroha, just Guido, Razor Burn, Unicorn and me. It was one of those weird nothing really happened kind of nights that will stand out in my mind because even though nothing happened because it was perfect--great people, great conversation, just perfect.

And then we had to end it on a hunt for a pecan pie similar to the one Razor Burn had fallen in love with at the Abbey. So we went to Dupar's, and even though we didn't find a pecan pie (they were all out), we did find the place where happiness goes to die.

5/14 - I don't get sick. Even though I see tons of people who carry with them and on them millions and millions of germs, I hardly ever get sick. I made it through one of the worst cold and flu seasons I've ever seen completely unscathed, until Wednesday. Sore throat. Sweats. Lightheadedness. I fucking got sick. But oh did it feel good to just stay home on a week day. Gotta get sick more often.

Although the next time, I'll try not to get sick when I'm on call. Cause that sucks to take the day off due to illness only to have to go in at night because my call shift is from 10 pm to 7 am.

5/15 - Even though I worked a half day because it WAS after all Thursday, I still saw sixteen patients. Even more amazing is that some of them were patients who were scheduled for the day before who, despite the fact that my throat still hurt, despite the fact that I would break out in random febrile sweats in front of patients, despite the fact that I was still a little lightheaded, and despite the fact that my voice was as hoarse and as manly as Lauren Bacall's, called me completely pissed, "Well you have to see me today. You got the day off yesterday and they bumped my appointment and my ankle doesn't feel well. I don't care what you have to do, but you're going to see me today."

Surprised by the behavior? You shouldn't be. It happens every day.

I was glad to get outta there by 2:00 to make it to Job #2 where I had to meet with a client at 2:15. I got more work done and rushed outta there to make it on time to meet up at the gym with...drum roll, please...Secret.

It was great, although he made me feel like a pussy, struggling to throw up two plates and a quarter on bench presses while he easily whipped off three sets of ten. And despite looking lean and trim, is deceptively strong, easily lifting more weight on every exercise than I could. Why the fuck am I paying a personal trainer again? In any case, it was nice, and he was flirty.

Then the Straights (this time Sunshine and Razor Burn) met me at a local bar for happy hour where they defended, without provocation, the right of gay people to marry. I then met with the O-Bar group at O-Bar for my second happy hour of the day. I still felt a little shitty, so I left early.

5/16 - T.G.I.F. I couldn't wait to get this week over with. And all I did was go home, have a couple of drinks and dinner with a friend as we watched the best episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer ever--Once More with Feeling.

Dollhouse

So Joss Whedon, creator of Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Elizu Dushku, from Bring It On or even better Faith from Buffy? How could this NOT be my next favorite show?

I Do

Thursday, happy hour. They brought it up.

Big day, right?

Yeah actually it is. I think lot's of people are going to be out celebrating tonight.

It's just so weird.

What do you mean?

Well, you know. Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. It's right there in the fucking Constitution. Who are these douchebags to say that gay people can't marry? How does it make any sense that one group can tell another group who to love and who to marry? The pursuit of happiness. It says so right in the Constitution.

You're preaching to the choir.

Yeah, as far as I'm concerned, if they want to make it a religious thing, that's fine. If they get married in a church or a synagogue or somewhere that doesn't accept same-sex marriage, do it and call it a Religious Marriage. And you can call any non-religious marriage whether it be same or opposite sex couple marriage a Civil Marriage.

No that's bullshit! There should be no difference.

The conversation as we sat in front of the bar continued heatedly as I observed quiet and in awe. I could actually get married in my state of residence. And more than that, two of my best friends were, without prodding, discussing gay issues at a straight bar with their gay friends.

No, I was not out at happy hour at O-Bar with gay friends. I was in the middle of Straightville with my straights.

So now that the easy part is over with, that being the legalization of same-sex marriage in California, all I have to do is figure out the hard part--finding someone to marry.

Secret

I’m a talker. I’m a sharer. I’m an open book.

This is all likely quite obvious to everyone. After all, I live my life relatively publicly; my career, my family, my friends, my activities, my love life (or lack thereof) are only keystrokes away. And if you know me personally, it’s even quicker and even more And sometimes, particularly with regard to my love life (or lack thereof), I regret it.

So with this one, I’m keeping things on the down low. I’m staying hush hush. I’ll keep him a secret. In fact he’ll be Secret.

I won’t go into detail about him, other than the fact that he arrived a little late, but not too late. He went to the gym before meeting me at my apartment. But we arrived at the Penthouse with ten minutes to spare. It’s at the Huntley Hotel, an elegant rooftop restaurant designed by Thomas Schoos. The food is top notch and the wine selection, fantastic. The valets opened the car door and asked us both, “Are you here for the Penthouse?” I’d forgotten the no tennis shoes rule, and as I was wearing Chuck Taylors and Secret was wearing Nikes, we drove off to find a second option.

We drove to Brentwood, to a great little restaurant I know of called Bandera, dark wook walls, dimly lit, live jazz, great ambience with a killer margarita, awesome seafood and the best artichoke appetizer in the city. The wait was an hour and fifteen minutes at 8:00.

“I have an idea,” Secret said. “It’s not fancy or anything, but go three blocks south and two blocks east.” The place was garishly lit, the fluorescent light reflecting back off of the white ceramic tile floor. One leg of the table was propped up on a folded piece of cardboard to keep the table from rocking back and forth as we ate from plastic dishes with plastic chopsticks, the table crowded with a paper napkin dispenser, various condiments in squeeze bottles, and a plastic glass that housed all manner of utensils including the chopsticks, Chinese soup spoons and forks.

And the place was loud, forcing us to lean into one another during dinner conversation.

It was perfect.

Other than that, it’s all a secret…for now.

Week in Review '08.19

It's a little scarce in here isn't it? I've felt the need for me time, that's all. No pressure. No sense of obligation. Unfortunately, the same can't really be said of the real world.

5/3 - I actually had to get up earlier than I normally would on a regular work day. And what for? Well, work of course. This past Saturday was our annual company-wide Kumbaya snooze-a-thon where we talk about how great we are and how we can be even better. I have an idea: respect the free time of the physicians in the company's employ by not having give up a four hours on a Saturday for a bunch of pointless bullshit.

The good thing about it was that I was forced to take a day away from Job #2, leaving me free to train with my trainer that afternoon and do a bit of shopping before getting ready for an evening with the straights. Actually, it was an interesting night with the straights for a number of reasons. First, Fishering's best friend and that friend's wife had called earlier in the week to see what was up for the weekend. I figured why not throw another straight couple into the mix. So it ended up being Razor Burn and Unicorn, Sunshine and his wife, the couple I first mentioned, and me and, oh wait, just me. We met for sushi at Fat Fish which has the most awesome blueberry pomegranate mojitos, and the firecracker roll is to die for.

We then headed up the street for the real purpose of the evening...the Abbey where we met up with Guido and the Spaniard. Yes the girls wanted me to take them to the Abbey, and in this case by "girls", I don't mean girlzzz, but girls, with vaginas and everything. I had a great time with all of them, particularly watching the guys stare at disbelief at the footage they played from the White Party. But here's the thing, that will likely be the last time (at least for a long time) that I'll go back. The Abbey is played out. Bo-ring.

5/4 - I had to peel myself out of bed early again. This time for a brunch with Fishering since his parents were in town. It was nice to see the old group together again (Mercury, Dutch, M@ as well as Fishering's straights from the night before) even though we didn't all get to talk because of the logistics of the seating arrangement. I tried my damnedest to stick with water. After all between Friday and Saturday night, enough was enough, right? Well it was until the carafe of mimosas came by. What's a Sunday brunch at Boulevard without a mimosa?

Right after, I met with a friend who introduced me to the most charming Puerto Rican/Portuguese/French/Chinese built like a brick shithouse and smart as all hell man I've met in a while. I think he's going to be the next man to break my heart.

I had to scurry off to go to the site of Job #2. I was doing a favor for a friend, and after grabbing dinner with him, just went home. The weekend really was far too busy.

5/5 - I got to work feeling like shit. Just so tired from the weekend that I'd completely forgotten it was Cinco de Mayo until Razor Burn and Unicorn swung by my office to take me out to lunch and we settled on a Mexican restaurant that was all decked out for the festivities. And when I got home, I celebrated more by just going to bed.

5/6 - Because I got volunteered to be a part of the company's Continuing Medical Education committee whose meetings fall on my half day, I was actually given Tuesday as my official half day off this week. I was ecstatic about being able to run a bunch of errands until the douchebag vendor who I'd met last Thursday needed me to go up to Job #2 to sign some forms for the product he was providing. It was sort of an emergency, he said. We could meet at 3:00, he said. So I went up to Job #2, got in a workout at Smooth's gym where I briefly saw him, then went to the jobsite to meet with the vendor. Asshole didn't show up until 4:00, and the paperwork was anything but an emergency. So that bastard wasted my half day! So not using his product if possible.

5/7 - Nothing...glorious nothing.

5/8 - So I saw patients from 8:30 to 10:30, then left for the committee meeting which started at noon and went on until 2:00. And then I got ANOTHER half day this week. Whoo hoo! Except that my trainer had to bail at the last minute, so instead, I got a massage. Mmmm I love massages. Then I went to meet the crew at O-Bar and proceeded to have the worst night there that I'd had in a long time. Nothing in particular except that the bartenders' service was exceptionally shitty that night.

5/9 - I was a wuss with my trainer. My leg cramped up so I couldn't finish my cardio. Then I just had a nice quiet Friday night alone. I think I'm beginning to rediscover the need for nights like this.
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