Like all eyeballs-rolling-up-into-the-back-of-your-head inducing, room-shaking, obnoxious, calling-out-the-wrong-name-which-is-okay-just-as-long-as-it’s-loud, wet orgasms, festivities sometimes come to an end. Not that I had any orgasms during my wedding week or even on my wedding night. I thought about it. I really did. I’d have even been happy with one. I’d have been happy just watching one that wasn’t even mine, but every time I’d get that look in my eye, honorable husband would remind me that we were now married and that the physical intimacy part of our relationship now mirrored that of straight couples and would be greatly reduced. For those of you more cerebral types who enjoy math, I’ve just proven that division by zero IS possible. So, let’s move on to the day after the wedding.
Thursday was a day of relaxation, quite possibly a first in our 17 years together. I had breakfast with my mother-in-law, assisted the Pookster with a little pre-emptive packing, stopped back by the Museum of Sex to pick up a pack of Gay Sex Cards to leave out for him the next time he’s home to make up for a completely intimacy-free week…subtle, I know…then printed out a map to the Chelsea Market. Somebody was in the mood for lobster and Google said it was the best place for it. We headed out expecting to find a single restaurant. We were wrong. There were 38 shops and restaurants, but we did find the lobster place. Talk about some incredible crab & lobster sandwiches, New England Clam Chowder and Lobster Bisque! Suffice to say that we didn’t eat the rest of the night.
Okay, maybe that’s not true. We also had crepes for dessert from Cafe Jolie on 9th near 42nd. Mmmm! Sadly, the rest of the evening was spent packing, watching Are You Being Served? and figuring out how honorable husband and mother-in-law were going to get to the airport the next morning.
I got Pookie up at 3:30 a.m., made sure he stayed up, had his shower, escorted him downstairs with an umbrella and didn’t get him the least bit wet getting into his cab. It was back upstairs to sleep for a couple more hours, then getting mother-in-law up, escorting her down to a decently priced sedan–the driver didn’t want to come down on the cost, but he’s obviously never dealt with a Chinese woman before–then going back upstairs, showering, eating breakfast at the hotel for the last time, packing and then taking a cab to the other hotel Little Eddie (aka Little Brother) found for me for my final night.
Little Brother met up with me after he got out of work and introduced me to something called Korean fried chicken. Now, mind you, I’ve had my share of fried chicken, but Korean fried chicken? I thought he was kidding. He wasn’t. Bon Chon on 5th has probably got the most incredible chicken I’ve ever seen in my life! The food was good, too, but that cute waiter… Yum. Seriously, he was cute. And, also, seriously, that chicken was incredible! I found out the closest place we have back home is in Ann Arbor. I may just have to try it.
The only thing that could possibly top off a fine meal like that–so I’m told–is Karaoke. I don’t do Karaoke and there’s a perfectly legitimate number of reasons for that; I have no rhythm, no melody and no vocal range. In short, I suck. The only reason I agreed to it is because, unlike back home or anywhere else, you have a private room that’ll hold up to 4-6 people and can sing in private, which was tremendous fun! Little Eddie and I did our best work singing duets to anything by the Pet Shop Boys. My worst was to Roxette’s How Do You Do. I know this because when I played the real song for Little Brother, his response was “That’s an awesome song! Not like how you sang it at all.” Grrr…
His recommendation for dessert was tea and pastries at Cha-An in Japan town. It’s this little out-of-the-way place on the second floor of some seemingly innocuous side street. Honestly, I think they keep places like this a secret from those of us from out of town…or, you know, white people in general. The choice of 50+ kinds of tea was almost too many, but the final choice was an absolute delight. And the pastries? Freshly made and borderline sinful.
This was definitely the way to cap off a pretty fantastic visit to the Big Apple.
Still, it was a little bittersweet. I always seem to be the last to leave a place. Even when I’d go somewhere with friends while I was growing up, I’d be the last one left after dropping them all off. It’s an odd feeling, like being the last one in a room who turns the light off after the party of a lifetime. In this case, I’d gotten to bond with Miss Kim again and then she left, gained a husband and he left, and gained a mother-in-law and she left. All I had that night–besides a week’s worth of laundry for two people and a deck of cards featuring gay sex positions–were the memories. And my virginity. It’s the memories bit you should take away from this post, though.
My angelic virginity will be the subject of a future blog post.
In case you missed the entire wedding blog series, here you are:
Part 1: My Tiny Skinny Half Asian Wedding Part 1: Pre-New York
Part 2: Operation Brotox: A Gay Wedding In New York Part II
Part 3: Kage & Pookie Take Manhattan: A Gay Wedding In New York Part 3-D
Part 4: A Half Asian and His Gweilo in New York Part IV: The Gay Wedding
Kage Alan is the Austin Powers watching, Tears For Fears listening author of “A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to My Sexual Orientation,” “Andy Stevenson Vs. the Lord of the Loins” and the first book in a separate series, “Gaylias: Operation Thunderspell.” Okay, who’d guess that the Austin Powers trilogy could possibly hold up over the years? It does, though. At least the first two so far. I have to admit that I’m a bit astounded. I only picked up the Blu-Ray set because Amazon had it for REALLY cheap. Made me laugh my ass off all over again!