Drinks With Mr. Sassy

A few Fridays ago, I ran into a nice man with a Texas Longhorns baseball cap on and a twang to match.

We were introduced by one of the staff of the bar and made the usual chit chat one makes on a Friday night.

One thing was evident---at least to me---from the start.

My newly introduced friend was “family.” And I mean family in the gay way, not the black way.

Frankly either one was fine with me. ‘Cause I’m cool like that.

As I stated in part two of the preamble, if you want to meet a gay man just hang out with me.

So we chatted until he had to leave for destinations unknown. My new bar friend seemed genuine and nice.

I had a vague sense of the familiar when we were chatting but nothing really connected.

Plus I think I was about on my fourth glass of wine.

I meet so many people when I go out that I’ve had people come up to me on the street, on the bus, in a store and carry on conversations about things in my life that you would only know if we had actually spoken.

All the while I’m staring at them like “Who are you?”

It happens all the time.

It’s part and parcel of being me.

So I really didn’t think anything about the warm soap and water feeling I was getting from Mr. Sassy in his Texas Longhorns baseball cap.

The places where I tend to socialize are ground zero for celebrity watching in the city of Chicago.

Movie stars, political figures, big money rollers and the bright young things on the scene all rub shoulders with us common everyday working folk.

I don’t care who you are and what you have, more than likely at some point you’re going to want to take a drink.

And when you take that drink you’re going to want to be social and around people.

In my humble opinion that’s the great equalizer among human beings; rich or poor, smart or dumb we all tend to like our booze.

I’ve seen George Clooney, Jennifer Aniston, Aretha Franklin, Don King, U2, David Swimmer, The Honorable Richard J. Daley and a host of other names that you would only recognize if you lived in Chicago.

Their presence barely made me raise my eyebrow.

Well that not entirely true as Mr. Clooney made my stomach flutter and I almost broke out into tears when I saw Ms. Franklin.

But even through those close calls I managed to emerge with my dignity intact and not create a scene.

It is important to “act like you’ve been there before.”

Even if it’s not true, you should act like seeing a famous person is the most common and everyday thing in the world.

Ironically, out of all of the people I’ve seen, I’ve never once spotted Oprah in the 12 years that I’ve lived here.

The next night I’m at the same watering hole and Mr. Sassy appears in the doorway resplendent in a cream velvet tuxedo jacket with red hibiscuses.

My God it was one of the gayest things I had ever seen and I just loved him for it.

Chicago is a pretty conservative town dressing wise. Men just don’t wear cream velvet tuxedo jackets with red hibiscuses on them.

I made a beeline for him and directed him back to the other end of the bar where a friend and I had our drinks.

Introductions were made, drink orders were placed, attire was fawned over and the chatting commenced.

That warm soap and water feeling kept coming back; like I knew my new friend much better than I realized.

That’s when it hit me.

That’s when I figured out who he was.

I went into total 16 year old---hands over mouth—finger pointing—hysterical I know who you are mode.

Once again I was on my fourth glass of wine for the night.

I can see George Clooney and hold it together but loose my shit over a Texas born, gay wedding and event planner.

Go figure?

It’s interesting the priority that we as human beings place on others.

One woman’s gay event planner is obviously just as every bit of important as the sexiest man alive himself.

So as I’m in the corner making a scene and acting like an ass. Mr. Sassy states that he has to excuse himself to go to the bathroom.

That was the last time I saw him.

The great thing about knowing your entertaining and lifestyle mavens is that no one else in the room except is die hard dorks knows who they are.

Which would probably explain why people looked at me like I was a goober, they didn’t know that they were in the presence of event planning genius.

So there you have it---I scared away Mr. Sassy and managed to look like an ass in one of the nicest hotel bars in the city.

My cool points are down to zero.

If you’re wondering why I don’t name Mr. Sassy the answer is simple---I rarely if ever use anyone’s real name in the blog.

Just because he’s a public figure doesn’t mean he doesn’t deserver the same respect.

I’ve dropped enough clues that if you’re familiar with the players in the industry you should be able to figure it out.

Then of course an event planner that comes from a family of seven Texas football coaches shouldn’t be too hard to find.

At least I didn’t piss myself when I met him---thank God.