Broken Hearts Club Page #3

the thing everybody went home with|even if they lost.

It is not like that.

It's different.

Yeah.

Oh, my--

Oh, don't do that.

Because you know that|gets me worked up when you do that.

Do what?

You take off your glasses.

You rub your eyes.

And you're speechless.

I still make you speechless?

- Where's your jacket?|- It's in the car.

Let's go.

Do you wanna talk about it?

What's to talk about?

Gay men in L.A. are a bunch of 10s|looking for an 11.

On a good night, and if the other guy|is drunk enough, I'm a six.

- That's not true.|- It is.

I love you, and I know|that you mean well, but it is.

Patrick, maybe it's time|you start hanging out...

with a different group of guys.

They're the only ones|that make it bearable.

Good night, Patrick.

Oh,just before I forget,|Leslie and I wanna have a baby...

and since that's biologically impossible|for us to do so without sperm...

and since your genes are close to mine,|we thought we could borrow yours...

and then it would be like the baby|she and I would've had together...

had I a penis.

You wouldn't have to sleep with her.|She'd be artificially inseminated.

So take your time,|think about it.

Not to rush you, but we do want to|kind of get moving on it right away...

like within the next couple|of ovulation cycles.

So...

talk to you tomorrow.

- You can drive away now.|- Oh, okay.

Go home. I'll get the rest.

Come, you spirits...

that tend on mortal thoughts.

Unsex him here.

Now is not the time|for Shakespeare in the Living Room.

No, of course not.|It's getting late.

It's only 20 minutes to your next|meaningless sexual experience.

- Ten, if I'm lucky.|- Never, if you're really lucky.

Notice how subtly|I'm ushering you towards the door?

Notice how subtly I'm ushering you|towards a healthier existence?

Good night,Jack.

Happy birthday, Dennis.|I love you.

Don't get nervous.

Little kids and senior citizens|don't say it for you to say it back.

We should light a few more candles.

I'm cool.

Yeah, but we could use a little,|you know, some mood adjustment.

How 'bout--

How 'bout some music?

- Sure.|- Great.

- Whatever.|- Yeah. Great.

You like the Carpenters?

Play something else.

You don't find Karen Carpenter's|music even remotely romantic?

- No.|- None of it?

Not "Close to You,"|"Rainy Days and Mondays."

What about the one|about Warren Beatty?

"You're So Vain."|That's Carly Simon.

- You should go.|- What?

I'm feeling virtuous all of a sudden,|but I'm gonna go with this impulse.

- Is this about the music?|- No, it's not. It's about me.

- I can't do this anymore.|- We haven't done anything yet.

I know what we're about to do,|and I can't do it.

- Sure, you can.|- You're right.

- I can, but I'm tired of it.|- You're tired of sex?

Yes. No.

I'm tired of sex with people who care|what I look like and make up the rest...

and I'm tired|of doing the same with them.

I want something more...

something else.

I want someone who likes my music|and I care about in the morning.

I keep forgetting your name...

because my friends and I|refer to you as "J. Crew guy."

It's Ted.

Well, Ted...

I'm sorry.

Normally, how you look in that sweater|would be enough, but just not tonight.

You scared me.

It's my house.|I'm allowed to do that.

- Is Cole asleep?|- Yeah, he's asleep.

There's nothin' in there.|I checked.

You should try the cake.

The icing looks gross,|but the cake's pretty good.

This is not what I need tonight.

- You are not what I need tonight.|- What'd I say?

I made that cake you just insulted|for my own birthday.

It took me two hours, and I didn't|even get to blow out the candles...

'cause my friend's relationship|hit DEFCON 5.

Bummer.

Everyone knows that birthday wishes|are the only ones with real validity.

I plan on writing to the committee|for an extension.

Why write?

Now you made the deadline.

Come on. Make your wish.

Thank you.

Kevin.

You must be "Ennis."

That's Dennis.

Somebody ate the " D."

- Are these yours?|- Yeah.

I found your darkroom when I|was looking for the bathroom...

so I figured you were|a photographer or something.

Or somethin'.

- I like this one.|- That was my first class assignment.

We had to find an inanimate object|that represented our emotional state.

I had just come out of the closet,|hadn't met any of my friends yet...

but I was still feeling a sense|of strength and independence.

I think it looks lonely.

You're Benji's friend?

Oh, yeah.|More sort of coworker...

but I like him.

- Apparently not enough.|- What's that mean?

Between you and me, I think|you kind of dashed his hopes tonight.

You've been a hot topic of conversation|since you joined the Structure family.

What, he's been talking about me?

Relax. It's just a crush.

I mean, you should be flattered.

By the next full moon,|he'll have a new one. It's his way.

I don't get you guys.

Is that all you do,|sit around here and talk about men?

Either that or we talk about men.

Yeah, well...

I think it's really gay.

- You're not out, are you?|- What?

You're not just a newbie.|You're not even out to anyone.

- I don't think it's anyone's business.|- It isn't.

- I'm getting tired of being asked.|- I can imagine.

Why do I have to tell anyone anyway?

Maybe I'm straight. Maybe I'm gay.|Maybe I haven't decided.

Maybe I should say good night.

Yeah. Good night.

You're right.

It looks lonely.

the best or worst thing to happen to me.

Clearly, without them,|my life would be a lot less fun...

but with them...

I don't know if I'll ever be able|to have a life of my own.

Do you know|what I'm talking about?

Do you want to|keep it short on top?

Yeah.

I know they're my friends. I just|don't know if I can trust any of them.

Especially when it comes to men.

Every time I introduce someone,|they're all over him.

Watch your posture, all right?

Sorry.

Take, for instance,|the party the other night.

Taylor's boyfriend|broke up with him from Hawaii.

Howie went home with Marshall again.

Benji's quasi-boyfriend|slept with Cole.

And my sister ends the evening|with a plea for my sperm.

It's like one big gay soap opera.

I keep waiting for Sue Ellen|to wander into my living room...

and tell me she secretly bought|controlling interest in my oil company.

I was watching this documentary on cable|about this tribe of monkeys in Somalia.

Benji was telling me about this|documentary he saw about monkeys--

In Somalia.

They hang out with each other until|mating season, and then just like that--

They attack each other.|It's survival of the fittest.

I thought to myself,|that's our group.

That's us.

We're those monkeys, and I'm|the monkey with the image problem.

The only one who's unfaxed|by anything is Cole.

I mean,just look at him.

He's gorgeous,|completely straight-acting.

He's the ultimate meanwhile,|and he has no soul.

My dad would sleep with Cole.

If you asked me, Cole is precisely|what's wrong with this group.

We all want to be him,|but we're all afraid to admit it.

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