By Anthony Paull
The Dating Diet
It's supposed to be a festive, yet relaxing dinner with friends. No one expected there to be a tragic break up on the menu. Much like life, it just sort of happened. It's the typical story: Someone might have cheated on someone else, there might have been pictures, and there might even have been a dildo involved. Still, we won't go into details because we're here to eat, and that's clearly a no-no when it pertains to demonstrating good table manners.
So if you'd care for a visual, imagine a busy, dimly-lit restaurant filled with patrons fancier than the pricy diamonds on Park Avenue. Of course, the entrees are divine, except no one is pressing calories to their lips – unless you count vodka, the other major food group. But who needs food? People make up the beef of this story. And tonight, there are 15 in our party. Think gay mafia with their finest in female friends, seated at a stretched wooden table in a seafood setting, marked with Asian accents.
Me, I'm all about the chopsticks. And I'm wondering what it would feel like to have them needling my asshole, but I can't say a word of it, because everyone is glued to Jeffrey, and I don't want to bring up assholes tonight, because everyone thinks he is one. Why? Well, because he recently cheated on his partner, Thomas, who found a number of pictures of naked men on Jeffrey's computer.
Now, don't think ill of Jeffrey. He's a professional photographer, and these naked men were just clients, he informs us. The dildos up their asses – they were merely props!
Of course, no one dares to challenge him. That's because everyone is trying to be fabulous, and who wants to ruin a perfectly good martini with a messy topic like cheating? Besides, we're all close with Jeffrey and Thomas, and no one wants to take a side.
Well … except for Steve, who seems to love a good controversy.
You see, Steve's that friend who loves to stir the pot and watch the bunny rabbits boil. Yes, he's done it all twice, and he thinks that gives him permission to help friends during the "break up" process by planting advice in their ears. Sadly, his advice isn't always good. Like tonight, his advice to Jeffrey is to fuck another guy.
Yes, that would make everything better! Dr. Phil, eat your heart out!
The trouble is Jeffrey is in such a cloud that he doesn't realize bad advice when he hears it. So he just grunts, wallowing at the table, feeling awful about his actions because he's still in love. Toying with his sashimi, he confesses that he's worried about Thomas.
"You don't need to worry. He's not your problem anymore. You broke up," Steve states.
"So what? That doesn't mean I don't care about him. Where is he?" Jeffrey inquires.
Ask and thou shall receive, I think. That's because faster than a bird blink, I see Thomas heading toward the table. Looking glum, yet shiny in a silver tie, he reaches the group, greeted by a mournful hug from a girl.
Totally appalled, Steve slams a bit of wine and glares at me. "Did you invite Thomas? How could you do this to Jeffrey? They just broke up."
"Don't look at me. I didn't know he was coming," I state.
"Give me a break. You want the drama for your column!" Steve exclaims.
Overwhelmed by the commotion, Jeffrey jets out for a cigarette break. The second he's gone, Steve sets sights on Thomas. "Are you stupid? Are you trying to ruin Jeffrey's night? You should be off fucking another guy. What are you doing here?"
"I invited him. He's my friend," a girl snaps.
Hence, the drama of the evening begins. Steve is arguing with Thomas. I'm mad at Steve. The girls are mad at Steve. So the dinner party splits up, and we call it a night, before driving away in different directions. Of course, Steve says he was just trying to help.
"By telling them to fuck other people? That's not what they need to hear!" I yell at him in the car.
"So what? Should I pretend that everything is fine like the rest of you?"
And for the moment, I don't answer. I suppose that's because as a friend in this situation, I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do. To me, breaking up is a form of death, and when I attend a funeral, I have a hard time communicating what I'd like to say. So I observe. And when I lay eyes on Jeffrey and Thomas, what I see are two people who care deeply for each other, trying to make right of a situation gone wrong.
Like today, Jeffrey posted a frantic love poem to Thomas on the Internet, and he's sending flowers to Thomas at work. And though Thomas is hurt, he tries to keep a level head, though I'm certain it's hard. So if I don't rush to their aid with unsolicited advice, I'm sure they know it's not because I'm pretending everything is fine. Instead, it's because I believe they have it under control. And if not, as a friend, I welcome their call, and if I can't talk, I'll do better – I'll listen.
