Sugarland is this amazing gay club in BK that I love going to. Apparently, it has a reputation as a hot spot for slutty hipsters and I try not to be either of those things but sometimes I might blur the lines a bit. I can usually find at least a boy who is super cute, but more than anything I just like the music and being packed tight like sardines with ironically moustached boys. Most people don't enjoy not being able to physically move their limbs while dancing, but it really creates a perfect situation for someone like me who has a tendency to go overboard (see also: bust out full video choreography that I taught myself in my living room because I live alone and that's just what I do stop judging me why are you looking at me like that I swear I'm normal). In essence, I just stand there looking cute, getting swayed by a gaggle of hot, sweaty boys to pop music that would never be played anywhere else in Brooklyn.
On this one particular evening, I was taking a break from the pop-mosh pit and standing along the wall when a guy approached me. He was not exactly my type by a long shot. I was not exactly sober. He was persistent.
Now, before I indulge any more, let's get one thing straight. I pretty much always know what I want, and I pretty much never want a one-night stand. I've never really been desperate to get laid (not saying I get laid all the time - just that I don't feel the need to get laid all the time). In fact, I never get laid. Let's just be real. In this story, even, I'm not about to get laid. I guess I just really need you to know that I'm not a ho, even if this story makes me seem like one.
So, for the first time in my life, I went home with a guy because I didn't want to take the effort to get to Penn Station to take the train back to Long Island at 5am. My phone was dead, I didn't know when the next train would come, and I would honestly rather be in bed with a stranger than sit on the floor of Penn Station with a bunch of drunk ass trollopy Long Island girls waiting for their train talking about how "classy" they are.
This guy was actually really nice, and cute in an endearing way. Cute in a persistent way. So, not cute. As we walked to his apartment, he was like "so, I have a roommate. You might know her." At this moment, I was thinking about how creepy it is that this stranger bitch would know anyone else that I know considering we met mere hours ago, and then I realized he was talking about someone ...famous.
Quasi-famous. Reality show famous. I guessed a few, and oddly enough, I guessed correct on the third try. Kenley from Project Runway. For those of you who don't know, Kenley was one of the finalists from Season 5, the season when Leanne won. She is most famous for being a total meanie head to the adorable Tim Gunn and for being generally crazy. Oh, like the time she threw a cat at her fiance and got arrested for it!! Being a huge pop culture geek, I was flipping out. I was all "OMG, is she crazy?!" and "she was so mean to Tim Gunn, do you hate Tim Gunn too? Cause I'll totally be on my way if that's the case." AKA I was being totes obnox.
As we approached his apartment, his patiences with my ridiculousness was wearing thin, and he goes "Chill out, she lives here. You have to stop." I calmed myself, and we entered. And there, right in front of me was the cat. My eyes widened and I grabbed his arm and I said "Oh my God, is that the cat?" He shook his head, not in denial that it was the cat, but in denial of how bringing me home was ever a good idea. I quickly told him that I was allergic to cats in an effort to avoid the cat (which is true), but also in an effort to avoid getting the cat thrown at me by cray-cray Kenley from Project Runway.
So, we went to bed. It was the most boring one-night stand ever. No sex. No nothing. Just a Goldfrapp live concert DVD and listening to him tell me that Avatar was actually the most amazing film ever made. I honestly went to bed thinking about how juicy this story was going to be for my blog. That's how lame I am. No, that's how lame this one-night stand was. I woke up to someone washing dishes in the kitchen. Someone as in Kenley from Project Runway.
As my post-alcohol haziness faded, and I started to grasp the reality of the situation, it struck me that I would be doing the walk of shame in front of Kenley from Project Runway, alleged cat thrower. I told my host that I had to leave, but that I couldn't believe I was about to walk into this fucking situation/out of this fucking situation. I got dressed quietly and slowly, hoping to not do this but also kind of excited that I might get a "celebrity" sighting out of a disaster of a night.
I opened the door, awkwardly smiling at her. Shook her hand, pretended like I didn't know who she was, and left. Walking home, again, all I could think about was my damn blog. I hopped on my train, headed back to Long Island, and when I got home, charged my dead phone to find three new texts from Kenley from Project Runway's roommate: one saying he had fun, another saying Kenley thought I was hot, and another asking to hang out again.
So, throughout the week I texted off and on, trying to gauge my interest. In most boy situations, the fact that I had to wonder if I was interested is enough of a red flag for me to say "this is stupid," but Kenley from Project Runway was involved. The best text I got:
Him: That damn cat knocked over my favorite glass and broke it!! Is it wrong that I want to throw it out the window?
Me: This is so inappropriate of me, but why don't you just throw it at Kenley?
Him: I would but she's got food poisoning and is sleeping.
Me: I think the cat is okay with being thrown on sleeping people. He's used to it.
Him: I don't get it.
How could he not get it?! I didn't want to push the situation any further, but I couldn't do it. I began to wonder if he had no idea that the damn cat was used as a weapon in one of Kenley's more extreme cray-cray meanie head moments. I was invited to a karaoke night, hosted by Kenley from Project Runway and that's when I just knew it wasn't going to work out between us. I know me, and I know I am completely incapable of restraining myself and that I would have inevitably ended up with a cat, or a laptop, or some other random object being thrown at me by Kenley for being so obnoxious. And that's how from that moment on, every time I see that guy out, I go all Project Runaway.
In all honesty, it was very difficult for me to write this entry. Not because I wrote openly about going home with a guy I met at Sugarland, but because I am scared to death that Kenley will come across this blog entry. She just seems like the kind of person who would Google herself on the regular to make sure no one's talking shit about her.
I mean, she obviously still has the cat. Which means she's obviously still open to being violent with it if someone crosses her. I just hope that someone isn't me.
As we approached his apartment, his patiences with my ridiculousness was wearing thin, and he goes "Chill out, she lives here. You have to stop." I calmed myself, and we entered. And there, right in front of me was the cat. My eyes widened and I grabbed his arm and I said "Oh my God, is that the cat?" He shook his head, not in denial that it was the cat, but in denial of how bringing me home was ever a good idea. I quickly told him that I was allergic to cats in an effort to avoid the cat (which is true), but also in an effort to avoid getting the cat thrown at me by cray-cray Kenley from Project Runway.
So, we went to bed. It was the most boring one-night stand ever. No sex. No nothing. Just a Goldfrapp live concert DVD and listening to him tell me that Avatar was actually the most amazing film ever made. I honestly went to bed thinking about how juicy this story was going to be for my blog. That's how lame I am. No, that's how lame this one-night stand was. I woke up to someone washing dishes in the kitchen. Someone as in Kenley from Project Runway.
As my post-alcohol haziness faded, and I started to grasp the reality of the situation, it struck me that I would be doing the walk of shame in front of Kenley from Project Runway, alleged cat thrower. I told my host that I had to leave, but that I couldn't believe I was about to walk into this fucking situation/out of this fucking situation. I got dressed quietly and slowly, hoping to not do this but also kind of excited that I might get a "celebrity" sighting out of a disaster of a night.
I opened the door, awkwardly smiling at her. Shook her hand, pretended like I didn't know who she was, and left. Walking home, again, all I could think about was my damn blog. I hopped on my train, headed back to Long Island, and when I got home, charged my dead phone to find three new texts from Kenley from Project Runway's roommate: one saying he had fun, another saying Kenley thought I was hot, and another asking to hang out again.
So, throughout the week I texted off and on, trying to gauge my interest. In most boy situations, the fact that I had to wonder if I was interested is enough of a red flag for me to say "this is stupid," but Kenley from Project Runway was involved. The best text I got:
Him: That damn cat knocked over my favorite glass and broke it!! Is it wrong that I want to throw it out the window?
Me: This is so inappropriate of me, but why don't you just throw it at Kenley?
Him: I would but she's got food poisoning and is sleeping.
Me: I think the cat is okay with being thrown on sleeping people. He's used to it.
Him: I don't get it.
How could he not get it?! I didn't want to push the situation any further, but I couldn't do it. I began to wonder if he had no idea that the damn cat was used as a weapon in one of Kenley's more extreme cray-cray meanie head moments. I was invited to a karaoke night, hosted by Kenley from Project Runway and that's when I just knew it wasn't going to work out between us. I know me, and I know I am completely incapable of restraining myself and that I would have inevitably ended up with a cat, or a laptop, or some other random object being thrown at me by Kenley for being so obnoxious. And that's how from that moment on, every time I see that guy out, I go all Project Runaway.
In all honesty, it was very difficult for me to write this entry. Not because I wrote openly about going home with a guy I met at Sugarland, but because I am scared to death that Kenley will come across this blog entry. She just seems like the kind of person who would Google herself on the regular to make sure no one's talking shit about her.
I mean, she obviously still has the cat. Which means she's obviously still open to being violent with it if someone crosses her. I just hope that someone isn't me.
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