buttons all the buttons on a suit.

He also tucks in his polo shirt on dates. Dates with other men.

[06:13] ErrantSnarl: delidgamond is telling me he has a date
[06:13] nemaoki: date with a man
[06:13] nemaoki: at a gay gym
[06:15] ErrantSnarl: he is asking if you tuck in polo shirts
[06:15] nemaoki: no
[06:15] nemaoki: i be the does
[06:15] ErrantSnarl: because his dates are apparently job interviews
[06:15] nemaoki: why is he tucking in his shirt
[06:15] nemaoki: he already has a job
[06:16] ErrantSnarl: no, man, he's tucking in his shirt for his date

Tucking in a polo? What the fuck?

Is he taking his date to church?

Aaron Paccione: (6:18:41 AM) She'll be dressed business casual though
Aaron Paccione: (6:18:47 AM) so I gotta at least match

Hahahaha. It's cute, it's like when you go on your first date and you feel the need to set a dress code for it.

Amendment: it's cute when you're fifteen, not when you're pushing thirty.

This is the attire I would wear to such a date:

Probably a court appearance.

And let's be honest, the mask is what ties the whole ensemble together.

WE GO IN. WE KILLLL!

Gentlemen.

It is clear that Delidgamond has a lot riding on this date and a very poor way to go about getting what he wants. What say we wager on his misery?

I say that he will get a peck on the cheek and nothing else. Five dollars.

I have a feeling Delidgamond's date will "just walk away"

I'm gonna go with the "whacky and sitcom-style" ending.

One of her exes and one of his exes will also be going on a date at the same location; all will suddenly realize their homosexuality and go home with their current partner's ex.

The one bathroom at Chernoble is unisex. Two other couples are
already there, one of them in the only stall. The other couple is, like
us, impatiently waiting for the stall to empty. The girl is wearing a
silk jersey halter top, a silk chiffon skirt and silk sling-backs, all by
Ralph Lauren. Her boyfriend is wearing a suit tailored by, I think,
William Fioravanti or Vincent Nicolosi or Scali - some wop. Both
are holding champagne glasses: his, full; hers, empty. It's quiet
except for the sniffling and muted laughter coming from the stall,
and the bathroom's door is thick enough to block out the music
except for the deep thumping drumbeat. The guy taps his foot
expectantly. The girl keeps sighing and tossing her hair over her
shoulder in these strangely enticing jerky head movements; then she
looks over at Evelyn and me and whispers something to her
boyfriend. Finally, after she whispers something to him again, he
nods and they leave.
"Thank god," I whisper, fingering the gram in my pocket; then, to
Evelyn, "Why are you so quiet?"
"The Waldorf salad," she murmurs, not looking at me. "Damnit."
There's a click, the door to the stall opens and a young couple - the
guy wearing a double-breasted wool cavalry twill suit, cotton shirt
and silk tie, all by Givenchy, the girl wearing a silk taffeta dress
with ostrich hem by Geoffrey Beene, vermeil earrings by Stephen
Dweck Moderne and Chanel grosgrain dance shoes - walks out,
discreetly wiping each other's noses, staring at themselves in the
mirror before leaving the rest room, and just as Evelyn and I are
about to walk into the stall they've vacated, the first couple rushes
back in and attempts to overtake it.
"Excuse me," I say, my arm outstretched, blocking the entrance.
"You left. It's, uh, our turn, you know?"
"Uh, no, I don't think so," the guy says mildly.
"Patrick," Evelyn whispers behind me. "Let them… you know."
"Wait. No. It's our turn," I say.
"Yeah, but we were waiting first."
"Listen, I don't want to start a fight-"
"But you are," the girlfriend says, bored yet still managing a sneer.
"Oh my," Evelyn murmurs behind me, looking over my shoulder.
"Listen, we should just do it here," the girl, who I wouldn't mind
fucking, spits out.
"What a bitch," I murmur, shaking my head.
"Listen," the guy says, relenting. "While we're arguing about this,
one of us could be in there."
"Yeah," I say. "Us."
"Oh Christ," the girl says, hands on hips, then to Evelyn and me, "I
can't believe who they're letting in now."
"You are a bitch," I murmur, disbelieving. "Your attitude sucks, you
know that?"
Evelyn gasps and squeezes my shoulder. "Patrick."
The guy has already started snorting his coke, spooning the powder
out of a brown vial, inhaling then laughing after each hit, leaning
against the door.
"Your girlfriend's a total bitch," I tell the guy.
"Patrick," Evelyn says. "Stop it."
"She's a bitch," I say, pointing at her.
"Patrick, apologize," Evelyn says.
The guy goes into hysterics, his head thrown back, sniffing in
loudly, then he doubles up and tries to catch his breath.
"Oh my god," Evelyn says, appalled. "Why are you laughing?
Defend her."
"Why?" the guy asks, then shrugs, both nostrils ringed with white
powder. "He's right."
"I'm leaving, Daniel," the girl says, near tears. "I can't handle this. I
can't handle you. I can't handle them. I warned you at Bice."
"Go ahead," the guy says. "Go. Just do it. Take a hike. I don't care."
"Patrick, what have you started?" Evelyn asks, backing away from
me. "This is unacceptable," and then, looking up at the fluorescent
bulbs, "And so is this lighting. I'm leaving." But she stands there,
waiting.
"I'm leaving, Daniel," the girl says. "Did you hear me?"
"Go ahead. Forget it," Daniel says, staring at his nose in the mirror,
waving her away. "I said take a hike."
"I'm using the stall," I tell the room. "Is this okay? Does anybody
mind?"
"Aren't you going to defend your girlfriend?" Evelyn asks Daniel.
"Jesus, what do you want me to do?" He looks at her in the mirror,
wiping his nose, sniffing again. "I bought her dinner. I introduced
her to Richard Marx. Jesus Christ, what else does she want?"
"Beat the shit out of him?" the girl suggests, pointing at me.
"Oh honey," I say, shaking my head, "the things I could do to you
with a coat hanger."
"Goodbye, Daniel," she says, pausing dramatically. "I'm out of
here."
"Good," Daniel says, holding up the vial. "More for moi."
"And don't try calling me," she screams, opening the door. "My
answering machine is on tonight and I'm screening all calls!"
"Patrick," Evelyn says, still composed, prim. "I'll be outside."
I wait a moment, staring at her from inside the stall, then at the girl
standing in the doorway. "Yeah, so?"
"Patrick," Evelyn says, "don't say something you'll regret."
"Just go," I say. "Just leave. Take the limo."
"Patrick-"
"Leave," I roar. "The Grinch says leave!"
I slam the door of the stall and start shoveling the coke from the
envelope into my nose with my platinum AmEx.

How did I know that was American Psycho? I haven't even seen the movie, much less read the book.

aaronpaccione:Not postin on EC anymore
nemaoki:thats a big fat lie
aaronpaccione:not even bookmarked anymore

Well, maybe he got laid.