Merlot with Maggie

Hiii mia.z8459! It’s cliché but trust me - be your authentic self. If he can’t appreciate you for the QUEEN that you are, there are plenty more where that came from. In the meantime, grab a glass of wine (you know it’s Merlot for me!) and sit down, girl - we need to talk about yesterday’s Twitter beef…

“Marky, I think you’re losing your touch.” The sharp scent of cedarwood filled my nose, as Elle leaned across my shoulder to read the screen. My roommate wore more cologne than a high school boy on his first date; she claimed the scent gave her confidence. “That’s so generic. Usually, you’re able to say something at least passably helpful.”

“How dare you.” I shook my head, poking her in the ribs hard enough to earn a yelp. “I’m giving them gold, Elle.” Okay, a part of me had to admit she may be right. For the last while, it had become increasingly difficult to find the passion for writing that had inspired me to start “Merlot with Maggie”. My gossip/advice hybrid blog helped me lose myself in other people’s love problems, so I didn’t have to face the fact that I hadn’t been on a date in over a year.

Maybe if I’d known how big my blog was going to become, I wouldn’t have misgendered myself from the beginning. Marcus Silva became Maggie and more than a year after my launch date, it seemed a little late to sign on like “Oh by the way, I’m just you’re average, closeted gay man who still brings his female roommate to Christmas’ to avoid any questions from an invasive and traditional family”. It felt impossible to give other people advice on how to be their authentic selves in love when I couldn’t even be genuine in my own life.

“Come on, you’re telling me that’s your best work? Mark.” Elle threw herself onto our velvet couch, glaring up at me. “Listen, this is an intervention.”

Spinning my chair around to face her, I crossed my arms in anticipation. I loved Elle to the moon, but there was not a nosier person on the planet.

“Don’t give me that look.” She accused. “I’m trying to help you get your…I don’t know groove back.” Elle clapped her hands happily. “You need to find yourself a man! You’re strong and independent and all that.” She blew out a breath, reaching out to touch my knee. “But I know this is something you want.”

“You think I haven’t been trying! I have 3 different dating apps on my phone right now. I’ve been talking to a few potentials…” I trailed off at her knowing look. She was right - nothing was going to come of those messages. I wanted to find a relationship so bad, but every time a man expressed interest in meeting up, social anxiety pretty much drowned me. It was like the panic took over and before I knew it, I was ghosting another nice guy.

“Marky…” Elle frowned. “I think dating apps aren’t for you. You get too in your head. If you were just there, on the date, it’d be fine.” Her smile widened, a dimple peeking out of one cheek. “Lucky you for you, I have a genius plan to solve this drought.” I waited for her dramatic pause. “A blind date!”

My chair jerked as I yanked away in shock; who went on blind dates anymore?

“Don’t look at me like that.” Elle raised her hands, palms toward me. “He won’t be a weirdo. Kevin knows him from class.”

I clamped my mouth over a groan; Kevin, Elle’s genius, MIT-attending engineer boyfriend managed to be both a homespun gentleman and wild frat boy, simultaneously.

“He’s Kevin’s friend?” I stood up, moving to our tiny kitchen as if physically distancing myself from Elle might protect me from this conversation.

“Well, he’s Kevin’s fraternity brother. But they’re friendly.” Fraternity brother. Great, because my undecided major ass can totally relate to Kevin’s ultra-elite hyper-academic friends.

“He’s nice! I met him at a mixer. Marky,” Elle’s voice took on a pleading tone, which I’m sure she thought came off endearing but really landed on the spectrum of irritating.

“Okay fine.” I chewed my lip. “I mean, you’re right, I’m moping around like Mr. Lonely and not only does that just suck but how can I keep giving advice on Merlot with Maggie, when I can’t even put myself out there?”

“Oh, I’m so glad!” Elle slid off the sofa and threw herself into my arms, with a squeal. “What about tonight? I’ll tell Kevin because we need to act now before you try to take it back!”

“Tonight?” I squeaked. Elle yanked my arm towards my bedroom door, phone already in hand.

“No losing your nerve, Mark. You’re doing this and you’re going to have fun and it’ll be great.”

Why did that sound like she was trying to convince herself?

___________________________________________________

I fidgeted with the edge of my collar, thankful once again that Elle had mercy during her “makeover” assault to let me choose my clothes. The soft sleeves of this sweater gave off a faint cedarwood musk. Elle wasn’t here, but her “good luck charm” was spritzed on my wrists. Just knowing there was a little bit of my friend with me did take away a bit of the paralyzing anxiety. At least it was something to focus on besides the swarm of wasps buzzing around my stomach.

I was so focused on not hyperventilating that I barely registered the shadow looming over my booth.

“Marcus?”

The leather seats squeaked as I jumped, my heart racing. A man towered over me; the corner of his mouth turned up in surprise.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to scare you.” We shared a tentative grin, as he slid into the opposite seat. “I’m Evan.”

My gaze roamed over his sharp features. Dark eyes, pale skin, and a tiny beauty mark on his upper lip – he was gorgeous…and familiar.

“I’m Mark?” The words came out lilted as I mulled over that faint recognition in my head. Where had I seen him? The tips of Evan’s ears reddened under my scrutiny, his eyes on the table. Evan was clearly uncomfortable.

“I’m sorry.” My laugh was unsteady. “I just…I thought I’d seen you somewhere before.” I tried to make my smile more convincing and less pained.

Evan laughed, the sound cutting through the rumble of the bar. “No, that’s okay. I get that a lot.” He ran a hand through his black curls. “I don’t know if you’re into the drag scene but I-“

“You’re Betty Bouvier!” Betty was the most popular drag queen in Cambridge. “That’s where I’ve seen you before!”

“Yeah, that’s me. During weekend shows, anyway. Every other second is spent being an overworked, stressed-out engineering student.” Evan smiled. “I’m glad you didn’t immediately ask for an autograph…” The man slapped a hand over his mouth. “No, I didn’t mean- that sounded incredibly cocky.”

The chuckle that burst from my lips surprised me. Evan seemed to be in a constant state of embarrassment, his cheeks flushing a kaleidoscope of pinks. It was adorable and comforting to know he was just as nervous as me. I could feel the tension draining from the atmosphere, leaving a comfortable aura as if we had been friends for a long time.

“I’m sorry.” He continued. “I’ve had bad luck on dates. People usually seek me out because of my drag career, and I don’t realize until we’re out and the conversation is an intense grilling on whether I know certain queens or behind the scenes “tea’.” Evan said. “When Kevin mentioned a blind date, I was excited about the idea of someone not thinking they know everything about me before we meet.”

My heart squeezed in sympathy. “I think you’re a great performer, but I’m not your fan or anything.” I cringed – nice, Mark. Maybe next time don’t tell the guy you’re into that you’re not a fan of his work.

Evan merely chuckled. “I’m glad.” I breathed out a sigh of relief. “So, what about you, Marcus? What’s your major? Any secret drag double life for you?” he chuckled.

“I’m undecided for now. And no secret double life to report.” My smile faltered, and for some unfathomable reason, I felt the urge to tell him the truth.

“Well, okay that’s not entirely true.” Evan leaned back, expectant. “I run a blog. It’s pretty popular.”

His amber eyes widened. “Congratulations! What’s it called; I’ll follow you right now.” I reached across to touch his hand as he began pulling out his phone.

“That’s the complicated, double life part.” I tugged on my collar, my words spilling out in a rush. “I have a very…traditional family. They would not be happy to see me online talking about celebrity gossip and other people's love lives.” I said, “They want me to have more “masculine” interests.”

Evan nodded, closing his palm over mine. The warmth made my skin tingle, and I met his eyes as I continued, “I write under a different name: Merlot with Maggie. But it doesn’t feel like me anymore. I’m writing all of this crap about “being yourself” to find love – really Hallmark type stuff, and it doesn’t feel genuine. I’m not getting the same joy out of writing because it isn’t my voice.”

My leg quivered, the heel of my shoe bouncing as I waited for Evan’s reaction. As I spoke the words out loud, they sounded dumb even to my own ears. Why couldn’t I be honest?

“I’m sorry that you’ve lost your excitement.” My eyes shot to his in shock. I thought for sure he would judge me, but looking into those clear brown eyes, I saw nothing but sympathy.

“But” Evan squeezed my hand, still held firm in his grasp. “I’ve spent less than an hour talking to you, and I’m already completely hooked.” My chest constricted as he shot me a shy half-smile. “The people who read your blogs want to hear from you, are interested in what you have to say. They’ve been your fans for a long time, right?” Evan flicked his hand in a circle. “I know it’s strange to say after I just complained about it, but people who are fans of me and try to meet up through dating apps…it just proves that there is support and love for me as Evan, not just Betty.”

I swallowed the intensity of his stare. “If you choose to share that part of yourself with your audience, I guarantee you, they’ll love Marcus as much as they do Maggie.”

“Excuse me,” I flinched, the trance Evan’s voice had me under broken by a chipper waitress in a tiny skirt. “Can I get you anything to drink?”

My mind was still whirling, it felt so freeing to just tell someone, who seemed to understand. My body felt about 10000 pounds lighter. Grudgingly, I had to give Kevin and Elle some credit, Evan was the most handsome man I’d ever seen; his life was interesting, and the way he made me feel…. I’d never been so affected by another person in my life.

Evan pulled his hands away, sliding open the drink menu. His face lit up after a moment, and the sight of that radiant smile took my breath away.

“Merlot.” Evan stared straight into my very soul, as he spoke in that deep baritone. “We’ll have two glasses of Merlot.”

Without another word, the waitress stepped away from our table, and Evan leaned closer, gripping my hand.

“I’ll be the first one to have Merlot with Marcus.” He whispered. “I’m honored.”

And as we laughed and drank and fell a little bit in love the rest of the evening, I couldn’t help but think that for the first time in a long time, I was excited to start writing.