The Revenge Of Plan B

San Francisco, 1999

The familiar AOL instant message chime pulled me off the bed and over to the computer. It was my down-the-street neighbor, Frank.

Frank: Hey, what u doin?
Joe: Bored. Watching TV. Going out tonight? Powerhouse?
Frank: I'm over Powerhouse. Fridays suck there.
Joe: True.
Frank: Anyway, I'm hoping to hear from Big Daddy.

(Big Daddy was an enormous bodybuilder that Frank had tricked with once, months earlier at some sex club, and had been pining for ever since. Frank always acted like a nervous adoring puppy in Big Daddy's presence. I thought Frank embarrassed himself around the man and even told him that their relationship reminded me of Spike and Chester, the bulldog and the sycophantic terrier from the old Warner Brothers cartoons. Big Daddy endured Frank's effusive compliments and incessant attention the way a pro ballplayer might treat a wide-eyed Little Leaguer, with a gruff but dismissive graciousness. And aside from their one tryst, Big Daddy always left the ballpark with another big leaguer.)

Joe: Oh, did he finally email you back?
Frank: No, but I ran into him at the gym.
Joe: Oh, he goes to Golds? Never seen him there.
Frank: No, I saw him at World and he said he would call.
Joe: Stalker. I can't believe you.
Frank: I had a free pass. Total accident.
Joe: Riiiight.

Two hours later, another IM chime rang out.

Frank: FUCK.
Joe: He didn't call?
Frank: No, and I'm so fucking horny thinking about him.
Joe: Come out for a drink. We're gonna head down to the Edge.
Frank: Can't. Been chatting for hours with some other guy I've kinda been teasing online for a long time. He's coming over.
Joe: OK. A boy's gotta have a Plan B. Is he hot?
Frank: Sorta, but he's sure no Big Daddy.

Around midnight, I was sitting in the open window of the Edge with a couple of friends when I spotted Frank walking briskly up 18th Street. I called him over. "Hey, what happened to Plan B?" Frank shifted his backpack to his other shoulder and hardly broke his stride. "Screw Plan B. Big Daddy called and I am On.My.Way!"

On my way home from the Edge, I stopped at 7-Eleven for some chips or something, then headed up Noe Street towards my house. Near the corner of Hancock Street, I happened to glance over at Frank's place and saw that his front porch was completely trashed. Flowerpots had been smashed and a large potted ficus had been uprooted and jammed into an upended wicker love seat. His garbage can had been dragged from the alley and its contents strewn down the steps.

I pulled out my cell and called Frank. "Hey, I know your busyyyyy, but I think your house got broken into or something. Your place is totally trashed." In a low voice, perhaps so a nearby Big Daddy didn't hear, Frank said, "Yeah, I already know. Danny just called to tell me. It had to be that other guy because I wasn't there when he showed up."

Incredulous, I asked, "You mean you never called it off with him? You invited him over, gave him your address, and you just left?" Frank said, "I didn't have his number and he was already logged off. What could I do?" Rather than suggest that Frank should have at least left a note for Plan B, I just said, "Well, I hope it's worth it." Frank laughed. "You know it is. OK, here he comes. Gotta go."

Around 6am, Frank called. "Joe, I need a BIG favor. Can you go down and put a sign on my front door that says "Party Canceled"?"

I said sleepily, "What party? You're having a party? Where are you?"

"I'm downstairs at Big Daddy's. And I am NOT having a party! That psycho I stood up must be inviting guys to a sex party at my house cuz Danny just called and said all kinds of freak shows have been banging on my door. One of them said he got invited online."

"Why can't Danny do it? Why can't YOU do it?"

Frank whispered, "I'm afraid to come home. He might be out there. And Danny's pissed at me."

"I can't imagine why." (Danny lived in the unit above Frank.) I said, "Why don't you bring Big Daddy to protect you?"

"I don't want to him to know I planned a hook-up for tonight."

Oh. Right.

I hung up, turned on my printer and made the sign. "Party Canceled. Family Emergency. My Apologies." I grabbed some scotch tape and headed out. Halfway down the block to Frank's house, I slowed. Through the ghostly morning fog, I could see blue lights flashing. Ten steps closer and I could see an SFPD cruiser in Frank's driveway. A woman in a robe was talking to two female cops. I decided against approaching.

Since groups of men coming and going at all hours is Standard Operating Procedure in the Castro, I wondered how many men Plan B could have lured to Frank's house so as to cause the neighbors to call the cops. Back at my house, on a hunch, I brought up Craigslist and searched for "sex party" and "Castro". I got about 20 results, not that unusual for a weekend. Halfway down the list, I found what I'd been looking for.

Subject: Castro Sex "P"arty - Noe & HanCOCK

Hey all U sexy studs! It's my birthday and I am celebrating BIG TIME all weekend. Got six hot buds here already and got plenty of room for more. All ages, all races, all body sizes VERY welcome. Top, bottom, whatever, although could use more bottoms cuz all total TOPS here so far. No birthday presents requested cuz I got ALL the favors U need to get the "p"arty going! Email me for the address. PS- Make sure U knock LOUD cuz my bell is broken and we'll need to hear U over all the fucking. LOL!!

I thought, "Oh, you are good, Plan B. You are very good." Just to make sure, I replied to the ad and got an immediate return email with Frank's address. Attached to the email was a headless photo of a muscular man whose endowment was truly gasp-worthy. The photo was named "frankbirthdayboy.jpeg." Yeah, Frank wishes, I thought. I wrote back, "OK man, joke over. I know Frank burned you tonight but the cops are already at his house." No response. I forwarded the emails to Frank and went back to bed.

Frank slunk back home around noon and cleaned his porch under the withering glares of his neighbors while keeping a wary eye out for Plan B. I brought my sign back over and we taped it to his front door as a trio of strung-out looking twinks drifted up and watched us from the bottom of the steps. Frank's conversation alternated between his revenge fantasies for Plan B and his renewed love for Big Daddy, who had invited him back for that evening.

That night, Plan B's ad appeared on Craigslist again, but with this addendum: "Don't worry about the 'canceled party' sign on my door. We had so many HOT guys here last night, the neighbors complained. Just trying to fake them out." A minute later when I tried to forward the ad to Frank, it had already been taken down. I instant-messaged him.

Joe: I saw another party ad just now, but it's already gone.
Frank: I KNOW. I got Craigslist to take it down but he's doing it on Manhunt too.
Joe: A woman scorned and all that.
Frank: Totally. Going to Big Daddy's soon. Talk later.
Joe: OK, you better hope the cops don't come again.

Thirty minutes later...

Frank: FUCK FUCK FUCK
Joe: Now what?
Frank: Big Daddy called off our date. Some friend of his is in town.
Joe: Uh huh. Some "friend".
Frank: No, I believe him. He's totally a good guy.
Joe: Uh huh.
Frank: Are you going out? I can't deal if any more freaks show up.

Frank and I had a pretty nice time at Powerhouse that night, considering. On the way home, he worried that more of Plan B's revenge trolls might be at his door, so I agreed to walk him home. Sure enough, as we turned the corner we spotted two men climbing Frank's stairs.

It was Big Daddy with some friend.