Main Street: Bringing Brooklynites Together

So I’m on the train with Patent and Nel one day headed to a friend’s birthday party in Brooklyn. On the A, we bump into one of Patent’s friends, who I immediately loved. There was something about him—good energy, positive dude, great personality. Just before he walks up to speak to Patent we were all mid-conversation about Italia Blue’s body of work and how all of us need a new actor or actress to follow. It’ll be tough. Italia’s good; she really brings out the best in her co-stars.

We resume the conversation and New Guy interjects that we should take a look at RedTube for new films.

“Red Tube?”

He nods. “It’s like the You Tube of porn. You gotta take a look.”

Carm agrees. “Red Tube. Good shit.”

Red Tube, huh?

I check it out. Eh. It’s underwhelming. Not enough variety and not enough Black people. I mean I know it’s all sex just the same, but I need to see folks of my color getting it on. Unless it’s a white guy built and hung like Mr. Marcus, I’m generally not interested.

A couple days later, I’m in Jamba Juice with Joshua, another male friend, and I complain again about the lack of material in my life. He has just the solution.

“ They have everything.” He slurps his Mango-A-Go-Go thoughtfully, before adding,

“If you can’t find something you like there, you’re a pervert.”

I check it out that night. There is something for everyone. I don’t have a new favorite star yet but I’m actively looking. If ever I see New Guy again, which I’m sure I will (I live on Main Street, so does he) I’ll mention it to him.

A month later…

Stoli vodka is determined to ruin the liver of every industry insider in this city. Someone had the brilliantly bright idea to rent out a warehouse, call it the Stoli Hotel and have a different magazine co-sponsor the venue every night, including weekends, for 2-weeks. Stoli has officially hijacked New York City. I hold out on going for the first week as I’m going through a detox phase. Partying every night is losing my interest and I’m convinced my liver will shiver up if I don’t take care of it better. Plus, I’m worried that I’m becoming one of those people that has to be around people in order feel whole.

Coming home every night after work gets boring after around Day 4. The morning of Day 5, I convince myself that I don’t have to drink when I go out and I’m still very okay being alone. I just don’t like sitting in my house. When I don’t go out, I feel like I’m missing something—some opportunity, some new source, some potential news or blog worthy story. No newsworthy story has occurred in my living room.

So I go to the Stoli hotel after work one night. I guess I went on the wrong one because it was wack. And the music wasn’t Black people friendly. That said, I appear to be the only person not having a good time. Maybe it is because I’m sober. Hmmm. I stay for about an hour until I can’t take it anymore. The guys I’m with are somewhere around Drink Eight and have started on a singleminded quest to meet al of the Black women present.

Eh. It’s time to go home.

I’m headed for the exit when I spot New Guy in the crowd. He seems taller than I remember, but still wonderfully cute. I run up on him, startling him accidentally. He seems to quickly recognize me and we exchange a cheerful embrace.

“I knew I’d see you again,” I tell him. “This city is soooo small.”

“It is isn’t it?” He’s beaming like he’s got a big secret I’m not in on.

I assume it’s the alcohol. He’s probably only a couple from his limit too. “Hey, I checked out that site you told me about,” I tell him.

“What site?”

Yup. It’s the liquor. We had a whole long conversation. He would definitely remember. “Red Tube.”

He lights up. “Really?”

“Yeah, I didn’t like it though. But I found this other one, That one’s way better, lots more content. You should try that one.”

“Word? I like real foul shit. Like I want to watch people do stuff a girl’s never gonna let me do.”

I laugh. “Um… they got some real crazy stuff on there, but I’m more of a nice- regular-sex girl. Nothing too far outside the box, but there’s a bunch of stuff. You should really check it out.”

He agrees to do so and after a bit more small talk, he heads to the bar as I head for the Exit.


Three days later..  Seventy degrees on a Saturday after a Friday night with horrid weather means there’s only one place to go. I meet Patent at the outdoor Cuban spot around seven with plans to eat, bounce to the opening of Pieces’ boutique new men’s store, then hit up Omar Hamilton’s bday party, which everyone and their mother is threatening to attend. Thirty minutes after our arrival, we bump into New Guy again. This always happens; I meet someone and then I see them everywhere from then on.

I greet him with a hug and he seems genuinely happy to see me this time. See? It must have been the liquor. We exchange small talk and he informs me that he took a look at and liked what he saw.

I leave him on the sidewalk chatting with Patent as I run into the restaurant to get food. When I return, we’re chatting it up with some new folk when New Guy walks up wearing a different outfit. He seems shorter for some reason. The shoes? His face lights up and he gives me a gigantic hug like he hasn’t seen me in forever. Before I can ask where he’s changed to run off to this evening and why he’s re-greeting me (is he drunk again?), a guy who looks exactly like him in the same outfit New Guy had on just thirty minutes ago walks up behind him. He’s taller too.

It takes a beat for me to figure out what’s going on. “Oh my God!!!” I yell. I had no idea New Guy had a twin.

They start laughing. Apparently they get this reaction all the time.

I look at New Guy. No, the guy I thought was New Guy. I point. “I saw you at the Stoli party, didn’t I?”

He laughs. “Yeah, it was me.”

His brother looks puzzled.

I feel like an idiot, but I explain anyway to his sibling that I saw who I thought was him and got into a long involved conversation about porn with a total stranger and recommended this new site that I wanted to tell him about but told his brother instead. “Why didn’t you say something,” I ask New Guy’s Brother. “You must have thought I was complete nutcase.”

He shrugs. “Uh-uh. I just thought you were drunk and friendly. I was like ‘who is this cool ass chick?’”

We all laugh about my cluelessness and the randomness of these encounters. Just when I’m about to walk off to pick up the food from the counter, New Guy stops me. “Uh, D, what was the new site you recommended to my brother again?”

I laugh. “”

His brother taps him on the arm, nodding fiercely in concession. “Oh, man. Good shit.” Uniting Brooklynites one twin at a time.