By Robert Dominic
The summer season is in full swing. Share houses in gay enclaves like Provincetown, Fire Island, Asbury Park, and yes, Rehoboth Beach are open for business. The new
rom-com “Fire Island” on Hulu perfectly captures the joy of spending time in a house on the beach with your chosen family. Or a bunch of randoms you are just meeting for the first time.
For the past three summers, I have had the joy to spend three months living at the beach in Rehoboth. I likened Rehoboth Beach to my summer boyfriend. I was single and gloriously in love with RB. We were very happy together!
Mornings I biked to Rise gym, to get my sweat on – or to sweat out the two or six spiked seltzers consumed during afternoons at Poodle Beach. Nights we usually chilled at home netflixing. (This was in the middle of the COVID-19 lockdown so things were very different, as you probably remember.)
On a rare night out in town (ok, maybe not so rare), I enjoyed Aqua, The Pines, Arenas, Diegos. Drag Bingo at the Moon was fun and I know the theme was “old lady” but the energy was too low for me. Drag Brunch at 251? Yes! I do love me a drag show. Brunch was OFF THE CHARTS fun. Performances were amaze: “Escapade,” “Part of Your World.” YES! The drinks were flowing, the food was – well, let’s just say I left hungry. Then again, who goes to drag brunch for the food?
As happy as my new BF and I were, it was time to get back “out there”. Riding out a pandemic, single, in NYC? We need a new word for celibacy. As the country moved into new phases of opening up, it was time for Robby to move into phase two. Hooking up!
A major impediment to this hooking up is cockblock Covid. I am not great at the apps, even though I did set up a Scruff account once the bars and clubs shut down. I’m old school. I prefer to go to a gay bar, meet someone, flirt, pick them up, take them home. No muss no fuss. Covid made that impossible. Once the bars opened back up, there was still no way to socialize and mingle. It was all stay at your table, no mingling, no socializing with strangers. F U COVID.
I wasn’t even able to use my new pick up line. “My name is Robert, I have the antibodies.” Yes, that is true. Back in February 2020 I was pretty sick for a weekend. Felt fluish, in bed for two days, unable to read a book or watch a movie. But it was only two days. The cough did linger for a week. I think I was exposed at a Super Bowl party. When my friend Mike and I were poolside I loved to shout, “Don’t worry I have the antibodies,” he loved to counter it with, “The antibodies don’t last forever.” Buzzkill! (He was right, my antibodies disappeared a few months later.)
Back to the apps, as mentioned, not great on them. It’s hard for me to pull the trigger. I wind up telling people they’re hot and never meeting face-to-face. So, conundrum! Can’t pick up a stranger in a bar, can’t pick them up online. What is Robby to do? I’m youngish, not a troll, I should be hooking up! One night, a housemate k!ocked on my door asking to borrow lube. I didn’t even have any to give him. And not because I ran out. Because I had no reason to buy any. If that is not the saddest sentence I ever wrote.
Enough was enough. It was beyond time to get back on the horse.
Leaving Poodle beach one afternoon, I decided to bike through town and walk around. Bought a book and decided I was thirsty and hungry. I sat in the Biergarten at Purple Parrot and discovered it’s their happy hour! My favorite hours! I ordered a drink and my bartender asked if I wanted food. I was craving chicken fingers (a Robby fave), so I asked for them and he said they aren’t on the menu but they have them. I then notice another bartender, very cute – well, cute with a mask on – mask cute.
While the other bartender was taking care of me, the “new hot bartender” asked how my day was. He was being nice, personable – a bartender. I, living in my own rom-com, wondered if this was flirting. Throughout my meal, I needed to get some water so I went up to the bar and he asked me what I was reading. Did I need to go buy lube?
At the end of my meal, with some liquid courage, I felt like I could ask him his name, and maybe exchange social media info. As I asked for my check. “Which table are you at again?” he asked. I point to the table, he brings up my check. “Kid’s chicken fingers, three vodka sodas? Is this you?”
Yep, that is me. Kid’s chicken fingers. Three vodka sodas. Good title for my memoir.
“Dude. Best check ever,” Hot Bartender laughed and smiled, “Have a good one.”
And with that, dude (me) I paid the bill and biked home. No one is hooking up with kid’s chicken fingers. Biking home I took the long way around and spent some time adoring the scenery and sights of Rehoboth Beach…I mean he was my summer boyfriend!
Robert is a freelance writer living in Brooklyn, NY. He loves visiting Rehoboth Beach as often as he can. Follow him on Instagram at robb_dedo.
