Remember last summer when I arrived five years late to the Heroes party and watched the entire series on DVD in the course of about a week?
Well, that’s happening again. Except this time it’s with the superior drama Mad Men.
What do I love most about Mad Men? Probably the fact that it’s about chauvinistic male advertising executives being hot. It turns out that I have a real soft spot for pompous manly men with archaic values and a tendency to demean women. I want one to demean me! Preferably while we’re making love after I’ve cooked him dinner. (Of course.)
You can imagine my excitement when, this morning on the train, I encountered a man who was the absolute embodiment of Mad Men heartthrob Don Draper. (The Metro-North is of course filled with hot, suited businessmen on any given day, but this guy was exceptionally Draper-esque.)
As I sat across from Don Draper Guy, I couldn’t help but notice that he was wearing a wedding band. I then couldn’t help but imagine the following love story in my head (written in italics so as to aid the reader in distinguishing glorious fantasy from depressing reality):
Don Draper Guy and I share in intense eye contact for approximately thirty seconds. He then makes a weird half-kiss, half-bite gesture with his lips that I correctly interpret as a declaration of his love for me. He slips me a note with his cell phone number on it. We immediately begin a soft-core sexting session right there on the train amidst the oblivious commuters who may or may not happen to notice that Don Draper Guy and I are digitally consummating our relationship before their eyes, but choose not to acknowledge it because, like all commuters in the New York metropolitan area before 10:00am, they’re miserable.
After several minutes of continued sexting action, Don Draper Guy ups the ante by suggesting that we both get off the train at the next stop, go back to Connecticut (via his private car service that he decided not to use that morning in an effort to be more down to earth) and look for houses with his realtor.
“What about your wife?” I say, and he shrugs. I correctly interpret his shrug as, “Oh, is this ring still on? My ex-wife and I have been divorced since this morning, and I’m now totally available and gay and in love with you! Will you marry me?”
I say yes, we buy a house, and I quit my job to take care of the children from his previous marriage while he keeps doing important business-y things in New York.
I start crossing paths with Don Draper Guy’s ex-wife while picking up the kids from soccer practice. Though our relationship starts off acrimoniously, we slowly bond and eventually become besties who meet for tea and talk about everything — including Don Draper Guy’s bedroom prowess. Alex and Sandy (my step-kids) love the fact that their mom and gay step-dad are able to be in the same room together without going all Madonna-and-Elton on each other every five minutes.
Our whole unconvential family arrangement troubles some of our more conservative neighbors, but I don’t care because we own enough acreage for our neighbors’ opinions to be non-factors. Also, Don Draper Guy loves and adores me and comes home from work every night to tell me how perfect and not fat I am.
We obviously live happily ever after.
It takes a very special type of desperate gay man to be able to dream up the above scenario, so I hope you’re impressed.
Here’s what actually happened between myself and Don Draper Guy:
He compulsively checked his BlackBerry while I stared creepily in his direction and possibly drooled a little. At one point, he crossed his legs at the knee — a daring train-move that exposed his argyle sock-covered left ankle. I briefly visualized him sitting at the edge of his bed sexily putting the sock on earlier that morning. Then a weird bug/fly thing started buzzing around us and he heroically shooed it away, which I construed as him caring about my well-being. Then we got to Grand Central and he disappeared immediately into the sea of emerging commuters walking toward the main terminal.
I proceeded to power-walk my way to work while wishing I could have just stayed home and watched Mad Men all day.