I Went Gay for a Month

Back in summer of 2002, I found my self in South Beach, Florida on temporary assignment working on the movie "2 Fast 2 Furious."  As the film's Technical Advisor & Script Advisor, my daily routine started at 6AM and ended around 3PM, giving me plenty of time to lounge by the pool.

Universal Pictures had shipped the entire production crew to South Florida and each crew member got a $5000 a month stipend for living expenses.  I took up residence in a brand new high rise luxury building dubbed "The Waverly."  I was one of the only residents in the building, which was languishing with a 10% occupancy rate.

My condo was on the 21st floor and featured an ocean front view looking to the southwest.  A corner unit with a wrap around balcony, it offered stunning view of the pool and Fisher Island.  I promptly rented furniture that looked right at home in an episode of Miami Vice. It became the epitome of a bachelor pad.

Problem was, I wasn't a bachelor.  Back home in California, I had just purchased a home in a sleepy suburb of Orange County and was already occupying it with a wonderful girl we'll call "Jenny Sue."

Jenny Sue was a delightful Texas girl, with wavy blonde her, stunning blue eyes and a positive disposition that was infectious. We had barely been living together a year when I was called away to Florida.

I had never had a bachelor life outside the suburbs but I quickly adapted to luxury high rise living.  After a couple of weeks of my mundane routine, while at the downstairs cafe one morning, I decided to have a little fun with the hostess.  Anyone who knows me knows that I do imitations, or impressions.  This particular morning, when the hostess asked for my drink order, I did my best "gay" voice, "yeth, I'll have a smoothie, something that'th too good to thwallow."  As funny as I thought it was, the giggles behind me were priceless.  As I turned around to investigate, there 5 very pretty girls having their breakfast.

A couple of days later, I saw them again by the pool.  They had plopped down near me and were sunbathing face down, but topless. As one girl turned over, she dropped her top and nervously struggled to cover herself. They caught me looking, as I was already looking in that direction.  One of the other girls proclaimed "it's ok, he's gay."  Looking directly at me now, she asked me point blank, "you are gay, right?"  Naturally, I told the truth, "yeth, ith that a problem?"

Over the next two weeks, we all got to be friends. They were 5 of them....all Brazilian models putting their way through college.  Oh, and as it turns out, they were all in town shooting for a swimwear catalog.

Seeing how there were literally only a handful of residents in the building, I think they were just looking for someone to hang out with.  After work, we'd hang out by the pool, then they'd head for a sunset shoot somewhere.  They all lived on the 16th floor but we often ended up back at my place weekday evenings. I of course kept all this secret from my male friends on the production crew.

After a couple more weeks, my charade had grown to unimaginable proportions.  I kept my place immaculate, had candles burning whenever they came over and at one point, changed my desktop computer screensaver background to a slideshow of shirtless men.  I was getting "mani/pedis" with the girls at the salon once a week.  On one occasion,  one of them even plucked my eyebrows during an innocent sleepover. The illusion was complete.  By this time, they were sunbathing nude on my balcony, showering at my place and dragging me out to clubs and regaling me with stories how all men were pigs.  I almost felt bad....almost. 

I couldn't keep this up forever, though...something had to give, so when Jenny Sue called to advised that she was coming for a visit, I was relieved. At least she knew I was a heterosexual, even as out of practice as I was.

She arrived a few days later and since I was working that day, I couldn't pick her up at the airport.  By 9PM, she was in the hotel lobby and I zipped down to meet her and to retrieve her bags.  We hugged and headed for the elevator.  Just as the door was closing, a long, tanned arm with pink fingernails reached in like a harpoon and the door bounced back.

It was my girl-friends...just back from a photoshoot and wearing little more than a sundress and some dental floss that was supposed to be a bathing suit.  Oh. My. God.  Not good.

The girls were excited to see me, as usual. "Oh, hi, Craig.  What's up for tonight?  Are you cooking again?"  I could feel myself turning whiter.  Jenny Sue went from smiling to frowning to outright scorn, rapidly.  Zero to irate in 10 seconds.  Then one of the girls blurted out "who's your little friend?"  I. Am. Screwed. Without missing a beat, Jenny Sue replied with "I'm his girlfriend from California."  The next few seconds are a blur, but I think I sensed confusion in Spanish.  Or maybe Portuguese. 

Stunned silence ensued from the girls and Jenny Sue.

I focused my eyes up, to the little lights at the top of the elevator that tell you what floors you're passing.  I knew that if I looked down to the left or down to the right, I might end up being pushed off the roof by someone on that elevator.

The 16th floor arrived and the girls exited, never looking back.  The next five floors took about an hour, or so it seemed.

When we arrived at my floor, the walk to the end of the hall seemed like the walk to the electric chair. "Dead Man Walking," I thought to myself.  Not a word was spoken, though.

As I opened the door, Jenny Sue took a look around my cozy little bachelor pad and took inventory...out loud:  "white throw rug.  All glass furniture.  White leather couches.  Mmm...hmm.  Oooh, nice patio.  Complete with four different types of sun screen.  Oh, and women's sandals."

I knew I was a dead man, the only question was, would I jump voluntarily?

Suddenly, Jenny Sue turned into one of those women you see stereotyped on YouTube clips.  With her bobbing and weaving, moving side to side, arms flailing, "oh, you are NOT living up in this mother effer all by yourself, acting a damn fool with all these hoochies with their coochies."

If I jump now, maybe God will forgive me on the way down.

"That's it, I'm quitting my job and moving out here to watch you," she snapped. "But babe, I'm only here for two more months,"  I replied.   "Look how much trouble you got in already!"  She had a point.  And I couldn't keep up the gay voice and cold showers much longer, anyway. 

True to her word, she moved out there with me.  It was very tense for awhile and she reminded me every day of how I'd need to do an awful lot of sucking up to make it up to her.  

Her new Lexus arrived a week before the Premier of "2 Fast, 2 Furious."

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