Splish Splash, I Was...

Not taking a bath!

Don't let the exclamation point mislead you, I didn't get my bath this weekend and I'm not happy about it.

I was supposed to take it on Saturday while Mark was at a Broadway show (Surprise! A gay man went to a Broadway show!), but I stayed out realllllly late Friday night and had a reallllly hard time getting out of bed Saturday morning so I missed my window.

Yes, I know it's my fault for this happening and I take full responsibility for it. But the reason I was out so damn late in the first place was because I was celebrating Mark being in town, so it's only because I love him so much that this happened.

But do you think he realized this? No.

When I asked him if I could take my bath Saturday night or Sunday morning, he said "no," and that it was my fault for "staying out so late."

Whatev. I'd let him take a bath in my tub if he were hung over. I might even grab a sponge and help him lather up.

Anyway, I have a plan to get another bath this week. I'll keep you posted about it.

Suite!

Mark just got to the Mercer. They upgraded him to a suite.

He has a foyer, a living room, a fireplace, and there's a skylight above the bathtub.

Seriously.

UPDATE: He's drawing a bath for HIMSELF right now and calling to tell me about it. Oh, and they have Mercer bubble bath—I don't have to bring my own. (Because I will get in that tub, mark my words.)

My Bath Update

This crazy mofo is trying to ban me from the bath now.
←

He's doing this to get my goat; he has no other reason. It's a power play.

If he doesn't stop with all this "no bath" nonsense, I'm going to slip him a few Sonata and not only take a bath, but cuddle up next to him all night, too. Naked.

PREVIOUSLY: The Mercer Hotel

The Mercer Hotel

My friend Mark is coming into town this weekend from LA and I'm so excited because he's staying at The Mercer Hotel in SoHo.

I love hotels. I think they're sexy. (Cool, boutique-y ones, that is. Not like "Courtyard by Marriott" ones.)

His boyfriend David isn't coming with him so I, of course, planned a sleepover for us, but Mark quickly vetoed it. Per our conversation last night...

--- Start conversation ---

"The bed is a queen. There won't be enough room."

"Sure there'll be. We can cuddle. It's cold outside."

"I'm not cuddling with you."

"It won't just be with me. Beverly will be there, too."

"That little fatty isn't stepping foot in my hotel room."

"Who you calling fatty?"

"Beverly hang up the phone."

"Whatev. You better watch your back, homeboy."

"Ooh... I'm scared."

"Okay, fine, Mark. No cuddling, no sleepover. Can I at least come over and take a bath?"

"Did you really just ask me that?"

"Yeah. Have you seen the tubs there? They're huge."

"When did you want to do this?"

"I thought maybe I could check in for you on Friday since you're not gonna be there until later, and then I'd take one before you—"

"No, you're not messing up my hotel room before I even step foot in it."

"I'll clean it—I swear. You won't even know I was there."

*Silence*

"Okay, fine. How about Saturday?"

*Reluctant sigh*
"If you come over after I get up and before the maid comes, then yes, you may come over and take a bath."

"Yay! Thank you! I'm gonna bring bubbles! I can't wait!"

--- End conversation ---

Now, you might think it's weird that I asked him if I could take a bath in his hotel room, but my tub is so little and old that whenever I get the opportunity to take a bath in a real tub, I can't control myself. Not only are the tubs at The Mercer big enough for two people, but the one in his room opens up to the bedroom. See? It's so cool...

So anyway, that's why I want to take a bath there.

I'll be live blogging Saturday during my bath, so tune in! (No nudity!)

PS - The Mercer is where Russell Crowe threw a phone at a concierge.