The Rest of the Story

***Editor's Note - I've had this half written for a while, but I couldn't decide if/when to post it. After Jimmy's attempt to provide the details of this story on the Dan and Jimmy Sex Show, I thought I'd round out the tale for you.***

If you've been under a rock and haven't noticed, primetime TV offers a steady stream of medical shows. To name just a few (in order?): Quincy; Trapper John, MD; MASH; St. Elsewhere; ER; Scrubs; House; Nip'Tuck.

I watched ER religiously through my first 2 years of medical school. We'd get together for "Must See TV" every Thursday. For a while, we started at 8:00, but when the 8:30 and 9:30 shows went south, we'd meet at 9:00, watch the tape (yes, VHS tape for those who remember) of Friends, then Seinfeld, then ER.

After our M2 year, we stopped watching. We got busier, and the inaccuracies, both in medical information and lifestyle, started to annoy us. Plus, I think the show "jumped the shark" with Dr. Green's brain tumor.

I didn't really watch another medical show until Scrubs. I think people dismissed it as a goofy comedy; they enjoyed it, but it didn't grab their imagination. Enter Grey's Anatomy.

Suddenly, everyone was excited about medicine again. And I was peppered with questions. [Also, I found out that the gay members (and some women) of the administrative staff were calling me Dr. McSteamy:)]

"Did your boss ever do ____ to you?" (Varies w/ the ____)
"Have you ever had sex in a call room?" (No, but I know married and unmarried couples who have.)
"Is residency really like that?"

NO -- residency is NOT like Grey's Anatomy. (For the record, the show takes it's name from a classic textbook that Emory didn't use.) My pat answer, and I stand by it, is that residency is most like SCRUBS, except that we don't get even that much action. As Monty Python would say, Grey's Anatomy was "right out".

Or so I thought. I finally had a Grey's worthy encounter a couple of months ago. It's tough to decide when to write about a boy -- you don't want to kill a budding relationship by telling the world about him. Or even the 15 people who ready your blog. Since he's married to a woman (as mentioned previously), I think it's safe.

I'd seen this guy a ton of times at his place of work (I believe Jimmy mentioned what he did, but I won't -- you'll have to listen to the podcast). But I'd never talked to him. Didn't even know if he was gay. I finally saw him out at a gay bar -- so my uncertainty was down to whether or not he was interested in me. A week later, I was out at Mo's and saw him walk in. My friends had been trying to set me up with a cute Latin boy, but he smoked (not a total deal breaker, but I'd generally rather kiss the tobacco plant). So I turned to a friend, pointed him out, and said, "the hottest guy in the world just walked in".

I'm not sure he agreed with me, but he encouraged me to go talk to him. I said, "No, he's way too cute for me." So I just stared at him a lot. Until he caught me looking. So I took a deep breath, went over to him, and said (without another breath):

"My name's Joel I've seen you at [work] a million times but never talked to you I think you're really cute can I by you a drink."

Despite the verbal barrage, he said "Yes. Why haven't you ever talked to me at work."

"I don't like to hit on people at their work. Plus, I figure it happens to you a lot, and I didn't want to be the 1000th person to annoy you at work by asking you out." Note the commas -- I did start breathing again.

We chatted a bit, and he offered me his business card. Unfortunately, he made it sound like it was actually for business reasons. Full of liquid courage, I said "Actually, I wasn't looking to have you [work with] me. I was hoping to take you out for coffee or a drink." At which point he said, "That's OK, too. The number is my cell."

After a few phone calls and texts, we finally got a date together. We had planned to meet on Sunday afternoon for a drink. He called to say he was tired -- but wanted to go. I offered that we could go out later in the evening after he took a nap, but he said, "No, if I go home, I won't make it back. Let's go grab a drink now, but I might not last too long." Famous last words.

We tried to go to Martini's, but there was a private party. So we ended up at #1 on Fifth, where we chatted over Heinekens. It turned out he plays pool in a league similar to the one in which I played. We shot some pool there, but the table was busy, so we went to The Loft. He was better than me, but one or both of us stayed on the table for something like 3 hours. I stuck with beer, but he moved on to cocktails. That probably helped me win the game on which we staked "position".

Before we left the bar, we were taking lecherous comments about our bodies from a couple of older gentlemen (and I use the term loosely). To drive home how good his was, my boy started doing one armed push-ups. Yum. I flex my brain and told them what muscles they'd have to work on to perform this feet. I think they were more impressed with him. Me too.

As we left, I told him I wouldn't let him drive home. He didn't protest.

"Do you have a place to stay?"

No answer.

"Are you going to stay at my place?".

"Yes!"

So we went to my place, got naked, and got it on. Grunts. Moans. BEEP! Grunts. BEEP!. Moans.

"Shit, did you hear that BEEP? Hang on a sec."

Yup, my pager had gone off. And I had to answer it. My date was not amused. He chased me into the living room and tried to grab me. Then he tried to take the phone away from me while I was talking with my resident. He begged me to get off the phone, but I couldn't. So he did something else while he was down there -- and it was the best time I've ever had on the phone.

That's as close as this doctor's life has gotten to the steaminess of Grey's Anatomy.

Sadly, I can almost always match the drama. We had a pleasant rest of the evening. The next day, I went back to the bar, got the jacket he left there, and got it back to him that night. He still returns calls and messages, but we never had a second date -- he said it was business, not lack of interest, but who knows. San Diego is a small gay town, so I'm glad we're at least still friendly when we run into each other.

And as Paul Harvey (and now Sen/Actor/Candidate Thompson) would say...that's the rest of the story.