Having Sex with an American Idol

Two years ago on a lazy Sunday afternoon, my mind wandered off, "How does a genius mind work?". Do they wake up, light a cigarette, and start playing their piano that stands by the window? Do they have a shot of vodka while scribbling away on their yellow legal pad expressing ideas, thoughts and theories like Bukowski? Or do they remove their pants one leg at a time (just not as frequent) like me? Before I could answer; my cell phone notified me that I had a new text message. It was a number I didn't recognize and after a few exchanges I figured out who it was. "Mystery Guy" wanted to come over and have hot man-on-man action and since I didn't have much on the agenda I agreed.

I met "Mystery Guy" in such a random way. I was ordering my lunch (a Chicken a-la-King-sandwich) last Tuesday at Dean and Deluca when I noticed a handsome man smiling at me. He wouldn't stop looking my way -- it was obvious he had great taste. He was over six feet tall, had a nice olive complexion with a nice medium build that complimented the suit he was wearing. He possessed the sexiest pair of hazel eyes I had ever seen. I made the first move. I walked over to him and handed him my card. No words were exchanged, just sexy glances.

My dirty thoughts about "Mystery guy" were interrupted by a call from my Ecuadorian friend Rick. Rick is gay and has a thick Ecuadorian accent that makes you think you're talking to Antonio Banderas, Speedy Gonzales and Jack from Will & Grace all at the same time and he only called when he needed a favor and not just any favor like borrowing $20.00; his requests always required more involvement like kidney transplants and blood transfusions.

Rick: Hi Papi Chulo. Como estas? Listen papi, I need me a favor from you. I really hate to be asking.

Nando: What's going on?

Rick: Papi, I can't hear you very well. Aye Santa Maria!

Nando: It's my phone; I've dropped it so many times that it only works on speaker.

Rick: Aye papi, I thought it was my phone. Listen, I have so much sorrow in my life today. (Making the sign of the cross) You know I am producing a play called, "All About My Penis," and cast photos are today, but the photographer canceled. Papi, could you please, please, please, please come over and do the photography?

Nando: What time?

Rick: 7p.m. in the city.

Nando: It's 2 p.m. right now, can I call you back in about 45 minutes?

Rick: Oh sure papi. Aye mira, I am so grateful. Did I mention all the guys in the play will be in their underwear and are hung?

As I hung up with Rick, my buzzer rang. "Mystery Guy" had arrived so I let him up. He looked good as I opened the door and guided him inside. He was good enough to eat, drink and spank. He was the full package. Then the package fell apart as I noticed the bright neon pink bow he came wrapped in.

Nando: (In a sexy tone) Hi, I'm glad you came over. By the way, I never got your name.

Mystery Guy: (In a feminine voice) My name is Chuck.

We're all aware that I have issues.

Issue #1: Names. I cannot see myself dating someone named Chuck. It's too much like Larry. And we all know that the Larrys of the world have a bad reputation for being sleazy: Larry Tate from Bewitched and Larry from Three's Company. Dating a Chuck is like dating a Larry. Now, if I were to look beyond the name, there was no way I would be able to go beyond the voice.

Issue #2: Feminine voices. Not a big fan. There's nothing sexy about hearing, "Oh Nando you're so hot," coming from a feminine-voiced guy named Chuck. However, there was something familiar sounding about his voice and I couldn't put my finger on it. I had to figure it out, so I needed him to keep talking until I did.

Issue #3:Stubbornness. I won't stop the torture until I figure things out. And in this case, I had to keep Mary, I mean Chuck, in deep conversation so I could put my detective skills to use.

Nando: (Flinching) Where are you from, Chuck?

Chuck: Alabama, but I've been in New York for two years. (Insert feminine-Southern-gay laughter)

I easily detected the Southern accent, but it wasn't a twang like the ones Texans have, it was more of a dumb-hillbilly tone. "Keep him talking Nando, you're almost there," I thought.

Nando: We work close by, what do you do?

Chuck: I'm a fashion designer. I work on Lex and 53rd.

Nando: Do you like what you do?

Chuck: Oh God yes! (Insert feminine-Southern-gay laughter) And you?

Nando: I'm a recruiter, but enough about me. Why don't you tell me about Alabama?

As he rambled on about the South, I was able to pinpoint the voice. It was Clay Aiken's voice. I could recognize that gay high-pitched Southern tone anywhere. And that laugh! It gave me chills, and not in the John Travolta, "Grease" kind of way. "Oh Lord! I can't date a guy who sounds like Clay Aiken," I thought. I refuse to be a Claymate!. Now that I had opened the gates of hell, how do I get him to shut up? He's still going on and on about the Yellowhammer state. "What's he gonna do now -- Whistle Dixie?"

Nando: How about we enjoy the day with some quiet time? I mean, don't you enjoy silence? Many religions believe that only during long periods of silence can we really hear what God is telling us.

Chuck: Oh yeah, I love silence. In fact, some days I can go without talking. Unless my mom calls. I have to answer if it's my mom. (Insert feminine-Southern-gay Clay Aiken laugh) We are really close. She hasn't gotten used to the idea that I am in New York and I keep telling her, "Mom, get used to it." However, she just won't. You know? How about your parents? Do they approve of you living in New York?

Nando: (Annoyed) Yeah.

Chuck: Oh, well I'm sure my mom will eventually. Do you mind if I take my shoes off? (Insert feminine-Southern-gay Clay Aiken laugh) I see that yours are off and I feel a bit overdressed. What were you watching? I really don't get to watch much television because I get home so late from work and I'm usually so tired and all I want to do is sleep. What about you? Do you come home late?

Nando: (Disturbed) No.

Chuck: You are so lucky. The last job I had, I worked decent hours but not this one. Good going Chuck! I always get myself in messes. (Insert feminine-Southern-gay Clay Aiken laugh) I like it, but the hours are killing me. I like your décor. Your apartment is very Zen-like. Where did you get the Buddha?

Nando: (Ready to kill him) Target.

I needed relief. I needed an escape. I needed earplugs. So I made the ultimate sacrifice; I offered to make out with him. Keep in mind, with his mouth shut, a small fantasy could still come to life in my mind. I got closer to him and we began to make out. Or should I say my yearly dental exam began. The guy kissed as if his lips were not hinged at the corners. It was like kissing a Venus flytrap. Audrey 2 in Little Shop of Horrors had less mouth movement. So did that make me Seymour?

I pulled away and thought, "This is not working on any level." Just as I was about to fake heart attack, my phone rang. It was Rick. I picked up and put him on speaker.

Nando: Hi, sorry for not calling you back. Do you still need a photographer for tonight?

Rick: Aye Papi yes!

Nando: Okay, I will do it. I can leave in 10 minutes.

Rick: Well, it's not until 7p.m., but if you want to get there 3 hours early, it's okay, I guess?

Nando: Well, the trains are running slow and I wouldn't want to be late, it's unprofessional.

Rick: Aye Papi. Thank you for saving my ass! I will text you the directions.

I explained the situation to Clay, I mean Chuck, and he took it well and he left after a few minutes. And I was eventually surrounded by hot men in their undies as I directed them to pose this and that way. I love photography.

Was it unfair that I shoved Chuck out the door quicker than a New York Asian runs for a subway seat? Yes--on so many levels. And Feminine gays are human and they deserve all the queeny-pink respect in the world, but they don't float my Good Ship Lollipop and sexual preference isn't something I can fake. About two days ago I met a hot hunk online who said he liked me and when we spoke on the phone, he was disappointed that I wasn't more feminine and quickly told me that he couldn't explore dating me. Did the relationship-Karma-fairy whup my ass with her "Nananana-boo-boo" stick? Oh yeah!

Moral of the story:

A. Never hand your card out without getting a voice sample.

B. Thank God for needy Ecuadorian friends.

C.. Photography: it can save lives.