so much to blog, so little sleep

brace yourself, dear readers, for some shocking news. i've done something that i once swore up and down that i would never do: no, i haven't gone and made it with a girl. last night, hysterically, i lube wrestled at grand central station. for those of you not from baltimore, or just those of you that have some pride and haven't gone to baltimore's most horrifying homosexual pastime, lube wrestling involves a 15-foot swimming pool in the middle of grand central's dancefloor doused in wet lubricant. they have, literally, gallons of the stuff. contestants wrestle each other in their underwear, covered in lube.

and i did this. let me just tell you how it happened:

two days ago kel and i were at the gym and were talking about going to lube wrestling (not participating). we were talking, and decided that the only way either of us would do it would be if we were guaranteed to only wrestle each other. i'm not in the business of getting lubed up and wrestling either a) a hard-core freak wrestler or b) a nasty 45-year-old in a jockstrap. yesterday i was talking to ron, an organizer of the event, and told him that kel and i were jokingly talking about lube wrestling. of COURSE he was like, "sure you could just wrestle each other!" as soon as this news got to kel, he informed me that we were doing it. when i got to the gym yesterday i wasn't certain. by the time we left, the plan was on.

not only did lube wrestling involve getting in front of a bar crowded with gay men in my underwear and rolling around in lube, it involved mingling with the crowd in my underwear for 30 minutes before the thing started. and then sitting there ON STAGE in my underwear for like 30 minutes before we went. oh my god oh my god.

what's funniest is that by the time we got up to GC's horribly seedy i'm-sure-something-bad-has-happened-here back room and undressed i wasn't nervous at all. the anticipation was the worst part. amazingly, especially for me, walking around grand central in my underwear wasn't scary at all. it didn't even feel that weird. maybe it's because i've been wearing a speedo for the last two summers. i have no idea. there i was, standing there drinking and talking to kel and jerome and norwood and some guys from peabody, IN MY UNDERWEAR. it also helped that everyone was being cool about the whole thing--not pointing, not laughing, but definitely checking out the goods--and my friends made sure to tell me how hot we looked. when you're standing there in your 2xist briefs you need this kind of validation. and i have to admit, i enjoyed being objectified a little bit. i'm not someone who goes to the bar and gets checked out. so to have all eyes on me and kel for a night was fun. a once-in-a-lifetime fun, mind you, because i'm not going to be getting naked at a gay bar again anytime soon.

the actual lube wrestling was a total fucking riot. kel and i had had 2.5 drinks and a shot by this time (in the course of about an hour) so it was just...hysterical. i have no idea how to explain it. since kel nor i have any idea how to wrestle--nor did we know the objective of wrestling before ron explained it to us--it was basically just us rolling around in a vat of lube and laughing at each other.

i've been very adventurous lately--first trapezeing and now lube wrestling. strangely all of these adventures are planned by ron. i hear that his next birthday involves sky diving. over my dead body. i might get naked and lubey in front of a room full of queers but i ain't jumping out of no plane.

i have to draw the line somewhere.