I had dinner twice that night, back to back. First, at a Soho restaurant with my parents, and then I had been invited to join a group for a late meal by a couple living in Santa Monica, California, with whom I was very close. They were visiting New York City for business.
Though now divorced, I have stayed friends with them both. Margie and I have been attached since the 1980’s, when we worked together. When she met Steve and they married in the late 1990’s, he and I became close as well, and remain so to this day.
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At the time of this company dinner, Steve was a powerful television agent in L.A. He and Margie were in town for what are called the “Upfronts.” With the evolution in how we now watch television, I don’t know if such a thing exists anymore. At the time, every spring in New York City, the four major networks would announce what tv shows were renewed from the past season and name the new ones that would be premiering the following fall.
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At the dinner, I was seated with Margie and Steve on my right and next to two other agents on my left. To name drop, Brooke Shields and Kevin James were sitting on the other side of the large, round table. One of the agents, Jon, I had previously met through Margie and Steve when I was their guest over New Years in Palm Springs, celebrating the arrival of the 21st Century. The other agent was a lovely woman named Susan. Getting on with them well, Susan whispered something conspiratorially to Jon. He shook his head in agreement. Susan said to me, “there is someone we think you should meet. He’s a terrific guy. I’d like to call and invite him to join us.”
Today, I would have said “no thank you.” I may catch a lot of flack for this, but I don’t think women are intuitive when it comes to setting up gay men. That opinion is a whole other kettle of fish I won’t defend in this piece.
I remember I was wearing a fire-engine red turtle neck. A “couture” wool knit sweater created by an Israeli born designer named Raz Keren that I bought from his store in Greenwich Village. I probably was also wearing black Levi’s and lizard skin cowboy boots. Back then, that was pretty much my uniform.
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To avoid drawn conclusions and speculative law suits, let’s call the subject by an alias: “Joshua.”
When Joshua showed up, the restaurant dressed a separate table. Susan and I moved there and joined him. Joshua wasn’t famous himself but both his parents were (they had been divorced for years). In particular, his mother, who was and is a household name.
Within the first 2 minutes, I nervously knocked over a glass of red wine, soaking the white linen table cloth in a tide of burgundy. That’s not why he and I didn’t get on. In fact, Josh didn’t respond at all when it happened. At least I hadn’t spilled the wine on him. But evidently he was not attracted to or interested in me. And I can’t swear that I would have been willing to meet him had I not been told who his mother is. I asked him where he grew up. Assuming I knew (which I didn’t) Josh said with annoyance in his voice, “California.”
Before we finished our main course, two of Joshua’s male friends I can only describe as unattractive sycophants who made me think of Cinderella’s bitchy step sisters, showed up. I’m sure this was prearranged in the presumed event that I did not live up to Joshua’s expectations. After dinner, the three of them exited together. Obviously, I was not invited.
Climbing into a taxi with Margie and Steve, I soon realized I had lost my house keys. It’s the only time that has happened to me. Not living in a doorman building, I wouldn’t be able to get into my apartment until after I picked up the spare set of keys from my office the next day. So I went back to Steve and Margie’s 57th Street hotel with them, which I’m sure they just loved…
Fortunately for all involved, they had reserved a suite, so I was able to sleep on a couch in one room, giving them privacy behind double doors that closed. Unfortunately for me, the bathroom was on the other side of the suite, through their bedroom. At some point I needed to pee so badly I felt like I was going to explode. Not wanting to disturb them further, I emptied a water bottle into a potted geranium and relieved myself in the plastic container. In the morning, Margie said I should have just come through the bedroom to use the facilities. There was no way I was willing to risk waking them up — or possibly interrupting any amorous behavior. Why I didn’t think to travel down to the hotel lobby to use a public restroom, I don’t know.
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Two nights later, there was another dinner with a majority of the same group in attendance. Steve, who had flown back to L.A. with Margie, called me to say that Susan insisted that I come for a second chance to talk with Joshua. Idiot that I am, I agreed.
That day, most of them had gone to the theater together. According to Susan, Joshua, who attended the matinee under duress, was acting mopey and petulant. They arrived en masse a few minutes before I got there and were waiting for me at the upstairs cocktail tables. When he saw me walk in, Josh rolled his eyes. Heading into the dining room a few minutes later, he and I walked to the corner of the long table that had been reserved for our posse. I asked him where he’d like me to sit. Raising his arm high and pointing over everyone else’s head toward the farthest end of the table, he said “over there.”
Even stupid me finally accepted that this attempt at a romantic introduction was inevitably futile.
After I sat down at the opposite end, Jon asked, “why are you over here? Go take a seat by Josh.”
“No,” I responded. “He has made it very clear that he wants nothing to do with me.”
Susan threw out, “he’s a spoiled brat. What an entitled little prick. This is why he’s single.”
Firmly I said, “First you tell me what a good match we’d be, now you tell me he’s a brat. Which is it?”
“Both,” uttered Susan. “I thought if he met someone who’s not in the business and who seems to have his head on straight, there might be a chance for him to finally find something special.”
“Maybe that’s the problem,” I said. “You offer him your options and then you judge his behavior. Imagine having to live up to being the son of one of the most famous stars in the world. Never knowing if someone likes you for you or because of who your mother is.”
Later, I found out from Jon that Susan was Joshua’s father’s agent. Jon also admitted to the indictment that Susan was having a discreet affair with Josh’s father. From what I know, so much of what seems to happen in Hollywood is attached to one or more ulterior motive.
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Around that time, when I was in Santa Monica visiting Steve and Margie, they hosted a holiday party. While having hors d’oeuvres on their back lawn, a young actor I had never met, struck up a conversation with me. After about 20 minutes, he asked which agency I work for. When I told him I wasn’t in the business, he pivoted and walked away. I burst out laughing.
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It’s hard for me to comment on anyone who is single, after all these years of my remaining uncoupled. I look back at those humiliating dinners decades ago and still break out in hives when I think about what went down. But I feel for Joshua’s lot in life, even though I know almost nothing about him. I have been fortunate to maintain long time friendships, and never have to question why someone wants to be in my life. I wonder if Joshua will ever know that luxury?