Xmas Party!

"I came by myself to a very crowded place; I was looking for someone who had lines in her face”

I sang Leonard Cohen’s Lady Midnight at my roommates Christmas party the other night. I had a few drinks, and the crowd was pretty much cleared up, the karaoke monitor was out of operation, and I decide to get up and do a number from memory. I’m normally a nervous person; it took me half the night to work up the courage to do it, but as I looked around, belting the tunes, people actually enjoyed it.

One of the managers, who reminded me of one of the Judd’s, ran up to me while I was singing and planted a kiss on my forehead. She tells me I sound just like him and that I was amazing. My confidence is boosted. I start dreaming about my future life as a musician. Looking around at the tables of people, I see them all focused on me. There is no more chatter, everyone is deeply immersed in my singing – and they are actually enjoying it. I had no idea…

“Whatever you give me, I seem to need so much more”.

After the song finishes, I head back to the table of friends, including a bi guy who has been flirting heavily with me all night. He tells me he’s jealous and I blush nervously, and I am complimented by my friends also. All eyes are on me and I’m relishing on my job well done. At this time, the manager who complimented me earlier, approaches me and asks who I was singing…I guess, I didn’t sound that much like him after all.

The bi guy is strange. He arrives with a gay pastry chief, and I only assume that he is an escort. I find out they are friends, as we sit side by side, feasting on rare lamb and Fillet Mignon. The night is amazing. His arm is around me; we are joking, looking into each others eyes, holding our gazes. I’m getting more and more excited about the after party.

All eyes are on us. I guess, we are the two best looking guys are the party. Some of the women are looking us both over – and the gay pastry chief is becoming more and more friendly. He reeks of perfume and I am getting more and more annoyed as he rubs my head and hugs me repeatedly.

The bi guy is sitting one chair away from me and I am starting to get turned on. I keep gazing into his eyes as he keeps talking into my ear, and I can feel his whiskers on me, his breath is on my neck. And, after a few jokes, I find my hand occasionally touching his leg and knee. He doesn’t mind at all.

"Don't try to use me or slyly refuse me, just win me or lose me, it is this that the darkness is for."

It turns out the bi guys enjoys my good friend Camilla also. After a failed attempted to show him where the washroom is, he jumps on a chance to talk to her. I see it all falling apart. I see how the two interact; I see how Camilla and I are in direct competition and I want no part of it. As I approach her, she merely comments “You can’t have it all” and I eagerly give up – I mean, I may see him again – but alcohol, bi men, and friendships do not mix well together.

“So I walk through the morning, sweet early morning, I could hear my lady calling, you’ve won me, and you’ve won me, my lord.

Camilla views me as a fiercely motivated individual. She has mentioned I can be intimidating because a) I am so focused; b) I am talented; and c) I have accomplished a lot in my lifetime. By no means are these my words, but I see how she could perceive me that way. I will not compete against her.

I remember one of the first times we hung out together. We head to the YMCA to work out. Camilla knows how focused I am when I work out so I challenge her to do some circuit training with me. Forty minutes later – and I am shocked – she is still going. I know right then and there, she isn’t going to give up until I do. So we are competing. And, I am drawing from her energy and her determination to prove to me that she can win, that she has enough motivation to pull me down from this pedestal that she has put me on. I beat her that night, so I guess it’s only fair she proves to me tonight that I don’t always win.

The night was amazing. The food was superb and I like the fact I showed up in a really tired and worn out mood, and, at the end of the night had befriended and entertained half the staff. I have a feeling some of them thought of me as upper management. I was assumed to be one of the invisible operaters of the organization. The fact that I was rubbing elbows with the managers didn't help either.

At the end of the night and after having a few drinks we stagger home. My roommate Paul asks me how my night was and I can only reply “I smell like a gay pastry chief”.