Tales of Woe From the West Coast (Part 3)

Opportunity knocks once, let's reach out and grab it

Together we'll nab it,

We'll hitchhike, bus or yellow cab it!

(Cab it?)

Movin' right along.

Footloose and fancy-free.

Getting there is half the fun; come share it with me.

--The Muppet Movie

My last installment garnered a whopping zero comments, and I'm about as busy at the moment as I've been anytime in the last two years. But my childhood friend Rebecca Landwehr Olgeirson emailed me Wednesday demanding to know what happens next. So for Rebe's sake (and nobody else's), here goes:

When we last left off, my manager/agent had disappeared, and a woman named Annabelle Chang from ABC had emailed me out of the blue about meeting with me for a talk show. 

After several emails back and forth, Annabelle and I had a pre-meeting phone conversation that lasted about 25 minutes. She told me she had come across me by googling "gay comedians." ("And then we contacted the ones who were good-looking," she added.) Strangely enough, when I google the same thing, my name doesn't even appear on the first results page. I should probably do something about that.

I told Annebelle about myself, including the fact that I had gotten my master's in journalism from Columbia in '96. "Oh," she said, "did you know Roxana Scott*? She's one of my best friends. In fact, she was a bridesmaid in my wedding." 

I couldn't believe my ears.

"Um, yeah," I said, "she was my best friend in grad school."

And she was. I met Roxana my very first day at Columbia. She was a beautiful, elegant, young black woman from Brooklyn. During our very first conversation, as we sat on the steps outside the J-School, I mentioned to Roxana that I was gay -- which was not something I mentioned to everyone in those days. (I was only 25 and had been officially "out" for just three years.) I wasn't sure how Roxana would take this news. Something about her told me she'd be cool with it. But I was wholly unprepared for her response.

"I think my boyfriend might be gay."

"Oh," I said. "Does he..." and then I stopped. I had planned to ask, "Does he initiate sex with you?" This has always struck me as a pretty good test of someone's sexual orientation. But I didn't want to be presumptuous. Maybe Roxana and her boyfriend weren't yet having sex? Or maybe they were, but Roxana wouldn't be comfortable discussing that fact with someone she had just met?"

So all I said was, "Does he..."

And Roxana interrupted, "Yes, he really likes it in the butt."

Well then!

The Site of Our Butt Talk

There's an episode of "Sex and the City" in which Samantha is trying to get an appointment with a much-in-demand breast cancer specialist. Alongside her in the waiting room, also waiting to get an appointment, is a nun, played by the brilliant Julia Sweeney. The nun is not wearing a habit. Their discourse goes as follows:

Samantha: I was once told I wouldn't be able to get backstage to see Mick Jagger. Well I did get backstage... and I blew him. [Silence] Excuse me... I don't know if this is an appropriate question to ask...

Nun: I think we passed appropriate a few seconds ago.

Samantha: What kind of cancer do you have?

Nun: Breast.

Nun: Breast! Me too. I'm curious... Do you have children?

Nun: I'm a nun.

Samantha: You have none.

Nun: No, no, no... I AM a nun. But that doesn't mean that I didn't enjoy your Mick Jagger story.

That was like my first conversation with Roxana. She passed appropriate with me from the get-go, and I adored her for that. The fact that she combined inappropriateness with utter class and poise made her all the more appealing. We were basically inseparable for the remainder of grad school. I recall walking with her through the streets of Harlem and having black guys scream at us: "Oh, no, baby! What are you doing with that ghost?! You don't need to be with him! You need to be with me!," and being utterly flattered that they had assumed we were a couple.

So when Annabelle Chang from ABC dropped Roxana's name -- out of all the names she could have mentioned of people who had gone to Columbia J-School -- it felt more than serendipitous. It felt like fate.

Annabelle scheduled a meeting for one week hence in Burbank. It would include me, her and her boss, Donny Page*, a network vice-president in charge of programming. "And I'll be sure to touch base with Roxana before then," Annabelle added.

The moment our phone call ended, I began composing an email to Roxana. In the years since our Columbia days, she had moved to Europe, married a very wealthy man and given birth to several beautiful children. We had stayed in touch, but only sporadically and always via email.

"You're not going to believe this," I wrote. "But you and I know someone in common. And she could change my entire life..."

To be continued.

Homo who likes it in the butt. ♥

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*A pseudonym.