even better than I expected!
Right?
THE LINCOLN CENTER SHOW WAS A-MA-ZING! I’m about to go to sleep because I had to spend the last hour obsessively reading through the
Playbill
over and over again and now it’s super-late, but here’s the backstory quickly. When I first knew I was definitely going to the show, I desperately wanted to give Chuck the other ticket, but I was smart enough not to ask him. Yes, I’m working toward dating/smooching him, but even
I
know that when we’re dating, there’ll be no afternoons in Manhattan, having brunch and taking in a musical. That’s why I have Spencer. He’s not even into Broadway like I am, but he’s always willing to come along with me whenever I want to see a show, and because he’s so smart, he’ll always have something incredibly insightful to say about it afterward.
My mom dropped us off at the Long Island Rail Road. “Have fun!” she said as we got out of the car. We started walking up the stairs, and she leaned out the window.
“Justin! Don’t you have to wait down here for Becky?”
Ugh! Lately she’s been asking me all the time how things are going with Becky and if she wants to come over to our house for dinner. I know she’s trying to figure out what’s really going on, and it takes so much effort to keep giving vague answers so she and my dad will keep out of it. This time, because we were halfway up the stairs, I had the advantage of distance.
“Peas and carrots, peas and carrots!” I yelled. We had learned in Mrs. Hall’s theater class that when you’re in a crowd scene and you’re supposed to make general crowd noises, just repeat “Peas and carrots” and it does the trick. And, from a distance, it looks like you’re saying something.
“What?” she yelled as the car behind her started to honk.
That was my cue. I gave her a thumbs-up and pulled Spencer up the stairs. I promptly turned off my cell phone so she couldn’t ask any further questions, and Spencer and I stood on the platform, waiting for the train.
“Your mother still doesn’t know your devious plan?”
“No,” I replied. Then added, “And it’s not devious.”
Spencer did his “no response” routine, which I knew was a way to make me examine what I just said. But I took it as a cue to talk about global warming. I knew if I mentioned something he was interested in, he’d get his mind off me and Chuck and Becky.
Right when he was talking about the long-term effects of the Gulf of Mexico oil spill, the train arrived. As we weregetting on, I noticed that he looked adorable. Underneath his overcoat, he was wearing a casual brown blazer that contrasted with his orange hair perfectly. I mentioned how much I loved his coat, and he told me he got it at a Housing Works thrift store, which gives all their profits to help homeless people with AIDS. Leave it to Spencer to figure out a way to look good while saving the world.
When we arrived at Penn Station, we decided to have brunch on the Upper West Side because Lincoln Center is in the West 60s. Spencer found a place that looked great called Nice Matin, and we actually got a table by the window. Last week we had a late-November snow, and my mom gave me some cash for shoveling, so I told Spencer I was treating him to the meal.
After Spencer got his orange juice, he raised it to his lips, then stopped, pre-sip.
“Justin, just confirm for me that I’m not drinking orange juice paid for with blood money.”
UGH! “You are not, Spencer.” Everything with him was at such an extreme level lately. “That money is from my mom. And besides, Becky decided not to audition for the show without any influence from me.”
Spencer took a tentative sip.
“You may have forgotten,” I went on, trying to will him to finish the glass, “but all I did was tell her how great she sounded.”
Spencer nodded thoughtfully. “I know, I know. You toldme. I just don’t like that you were paid off by her father. Even if you didn’t do
Right?
THE LINCOLN CENTER SHOW WAS A-MA-ZING! I’m about to go to sleep because I had to spend the last hour obsessively reading through the
Playbill
over and over again and now it’s super-late, but here’s the backstory quickly. When I first knew I was definitely going to the show, I desperately wanted to give Chuck the other ticket, but I was smart enough not to ask him. Yes, I’m working toward dating/smooching him, but even
I
know that when we’re dating, there’ll be no afternoons in Manhattan, having brunch and taking in a musical. That’s why I have Spencer. He’s not even into Broadway like I am, but he’s always willing to come along with me whenever I want to see a show, and because he’s so smart, he’ll always have something incredibly insightful to say about it afterward.
My mom dropped us off at the Long Island Rail Road. “Have fun!” she said as we got out of the car. We started walking up the stairs, and she leaned out the window.
“Justin! Don’t you have to wait down here for Becky?”
Ugh! Lately she’s been asking me all the time how things are going with Becky and if she wants to come over to our house for dinner. I know she’s trying to figure out what’s really going on, and it takes so much effort to keep giving vague answers so she and my dad will keep out of it. This time, because we were halfway up the stairs, I had the advantage of distance.
“Peas and carrots, peas and carrots!” I yelled. We had learned in Mrs. Hall’s theater class that when you’re in a crowd scene and you’re supposed to make general crowd noises, just repeat “Peas and carrots” and it does the trick. And, from a distance, it looks like you’re saying something.
“What?” she yelled as the car behind her started to honk.
That was my cue. I gave her a thumbs-up and pulled Spencer up the stairs. I promptly turned off my cell phone so she couldn’t ask any further questions, and Spencer and I stood on the platform, waiting for the train.
“Your mother still doesn’t know your devious plan?”
“No,” I replied. Then added, “And it’s not devious.”
Spencer did his “no response” routine, which I knew was a way to make me examine what I just said. But I took it as a cue to talk about global warming. I knew if I mentioned something he was interested in, he’d get his mind off me and Chuck and Becky.
Right when he was talking about the long-term effects of the Gulf of Mexico oil spill, the train arrived. As we weregetting on, I noticed that he looked adorable. Underneath his overcoat, he was wearing a casual brown blazer that contrasted with his orange hair perfectly. I mentioned how much I loved his coat, and he told me he got it at a Housing Works thrift store, which gives all their profits to help homeless people with AIDS. Leave it to Spencer to figure out a way to look good while saving the world.
When we arrived at Penn Station, we decided to have brunch on the Upper West Side because Lincoln Center is in the West 60s. Spencer found a place that looked great called Nice Matin, and we actually got a table by the window. Last week we had a late-November snow, and my mom gave me some cash for shoveling, so I told Spencer I was treating him to the meal.
After Spencer got his orange juice, he raised it to his lips, then stopped, pre-sip.
“Justin, just confirm for me that I’m not drinking orange juice paid for with blood money.”
UGH! “You are not, Spencer.” Everything with him was at such an extreme level lately. “That money is from my mom. And besides, Becky decided not to audition for the show without any influence from me.”
Spencer took a tentative sip.
“You may have forgotten,” I went on, trying to will him to finish the glass, “but all I did was tell her how great she sounded.”
Spencer nodded thoughtfully. “I know, I know. You toldme. I just don’t like that you were paid off by her father. Even if you didn’t do
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