Even though my celebrity boyfriend and I dated for only about six weeks, our breakup was devastating -- particularly since he dumped me for my roommate Alan!
For three days I called in sick to work and sat at home in my bathrobe, eating ice cream, watching game shows on tv, and bursting into tears at random moments. I didn't go out, except for work, for over a week, and when I finally hit the bars again, it was in a self-destructive daze, trying to pick up the ugliest, most disgusting sleazoid I could find.
On the second Friday night after the breakup, I padded my crotch with a balled-up handkerchief, went to a sleazy bar called the Rawhide, and propped up the wall. Lots of leering, ugly guys there, but the one who came over was the ugliest of the lot: Tall, super-thin, pale as a ghost, with a long thin face, a thick Tom Selleck porn stash, an...ugh!...tattoo, and two...ugh!...rings. Plus he was smoking!
The only conversation I got from him was: his name was James [not Jim], he was a porn star, and he wanted to f* me sideways with Mr. Big.
Perfect! Getting f* sideways by Mr. Big would be the perfect remedy to our breakup. To seal the deal, I pulled James into kiss.
Gross! Sloppy, boozy, smoky, and his teeth scraped my tongue.
In 1987, even sleazoids were worried about AIDS, and wanted to date rather than trick, so I suggested that we meet for brunch Sunday morning at the French Quarter. Alan and Peter would be there, and see how pitiful and self-destructive I had become, and feel guilty.
James arrived in a stupid pink muscle shirt that displayed his slim, hairy chest, which was doused -- doused! in cologne. Obviously he wasn't hired to do porn for his physique -- his very tight jeans showed an ample basket. But to get a chance at his penis, I'd have to endure a lot of James. Perfectly gross.
As I waited for Alan and Peter to show up so I could make out with James, we discussed gym routines, porn, poppers, and penises. You should never mention ex-boyfriends during a date, but I did anyway, talking about that last party in detail.
James shrugged. "The bigger they are, the flightier they get." Then: "Hey, you want to meet my ex? He's having a party next Friday night. Bringing you along would make him die of envy."
So James was on the rebound, too? Was I his idea of the sleaziest, ugliest guy possible?
"He's famous, totally closeted, and completely full of himself," James continued, "So showing up with an Iowa farmboy would really stick it to him."
"I'm from Illinois, not Iowa, and I never lived on a farm. So who is this movie star?"
"Did you ever watch Valerie?"
The nuclear family sitcom (1986-1991) starred Valerie Harper (Rhoda) until she left after a salary dispute. Then it became the TGIF classic The Hogan Family. "Sure. But Josh Taylor [Dad Michael Hogan] isn't all that famous."
"No -- David." Teen heart throb Jason Bateman!
"But he's under age, isn't he?" In West Hollywood you never discussed the attractiveness of kids under 18, and you never, ever admitted doing anything with them.
"Hey, hey, hey, none of that!" James protested. "He was 18 when we met -- and let me tell you, he had been around the block a few times!"
The rest of the story is on Tales of West Hollywood.