Once upon a time, a 23 year-old young man named Andrew moved to the bustling metropolis of West Hollywood to find fame and fortune as a performer. Blessed with a strong jawline, chiseled abs and an effortless laugh that made men and women alike swoon, he was destined for stardom – and like every model/actor wannabe, would wait tables in Los Angeles until/if that stardom struck.Within two months of bussing tables, tending bar and hitting Santa Monica Boulevard for weekend libations, he found himself falling for Patrick, a child model who had turned to selling real estate for one of the city’s top brokerages. For six weeks their relationship was nothing but idyllic; Sunday morning cuddles underneath the sheets, hikes up and down Runyon Canyon and dinners at charming little places only Patrick knew about. Andrew had found “the one.” He was sure of it.
One night, after an especially late evening at the restaurant, Andrew came home to find Patrick asleep, snoring only mildly. As he undressed and tossed his grease-covered clothing into the hamper, a subtle vibration from Patrick’s phone on the bedside table caught his attention. Curious, Andrew tiptoed over to the nightstand and read the message on the now-illuminated screen: “hey babe – wanna come over?”
Fast forward to a week later when a puffy-eyed Andrew was telling me about this event over coffee at Alfred’s on Melrose. He was still devastated. He had discovered Patrick had been sleeping with two other men besides him. As I sipped my iced black coffee and shook my head, I wanted to say the typical things a friend says when his buddy has been cheated on: “he’s a pig,” “you deserve better,” “you’re better off without him.” But I couldn’t help but see poor Andrew’s situation as a typical gay West Hollywood conundrum. This sort of stuff happened all the time. Especially in the gay community.
And why? Have gay men given up on love and throttled up on power? Will it ever change?
Enter The Hopeful Romantic (Moi)
Now, who am I to make astute observations such as these? Well, if you’re just tuning into Hamptons to Hollywood now, my name is Kyle Langan, and I’m a writer. I started the site six years ago when I myself moved to Los Angeles in search of fame and fortune and instead have found my blog to be one of my greatest accomplishments. I write about culture in the Hamptons and LA and have had the chance to do some pretty cool things because of it. In those six years, I’ve been likened to the Gay Carrie Bradshaw. I too have had my face and this blog advertised on buses across the city, I’ve written a book, and even wrote a recent column in the L.A. Times on the pangs of gay millennial dating.
And just like Carrie Bradshaw, I’m looking for love. I’m a hopeful romantic – not hopeless, as the saying goes – because, as much as I’ve been through, I somehow haven’t been jaded by relationships, love nor dating yet. And trust me, I’ve been through A LOT. And I’m going to take you on the journey of all my misadventures in love – because I KNOW you’ll be able to relate.
As the iconic Sex and the City empire depicts, Carrie and her friends’ love problems are ones to which many of us can relate. Yes, even in the gay community. It’s different to be sure, but I think in this era – and particularly our current political climate – when minorities (women included) are standing up for themselves and making themselves heard, the gay community has to do the same, even if it’s just by telling stories in an effort to share their experiences and shed light on different social sects.
I have friends on the East Coast, West Coast, and somewhere in between that have the same problem; they feel like there isn’t “a person” for them. They’re struggling with love. And it’s not a problem straight people have strictly, because everyone goes through it. Everyone, all across the world, is looking for human connection, romantic and platonic, regardless of sexual orientation, culture, and religion.
But as the gay Carrie Bradshaw (which my friend, Alec, was kind enough to dub me originally, before everyone started to refer to me that way – more on Alec later), I feel that it’s my responsibility to analyze, dissect, and discuss love and relationships from the gay perspective, specifically in Los Angeles. I’m here to share stories that you can relate to, that will make you laugh, that will make you cringe, and ones that will make you realize that you have totally been in the same position. Relatable content, unfiltered, if you will.
We’re all going through so much all the time and most of us don’t have any idea what we’re doing.
So, as an expansion of The Kyle Chronicles, I’ve decided to write my way through each and every Sex and the City episode, but from the gay perspective. I’m going to be taking Carrie’s pseudo-anthropological observations about relationships and frame them in a way that resonates with the gays. Remember that movie Julie & Julia, when Amy Adams (Julie) blogged her way through Meryl Streep’s (Julia Child’s) cookbook? Well, I’m here to do the same thing. Except for me, I’m looking for a recipe for love. See what I did there? 😉 And instead of New York, I’m taking L.A. by storm, and am bringing all my friends with me, because I know I don’t have enough personal experiences to entertain you through all 94 chapters of misadventures in love.
The previous Kyle Chronicles stories still ring true, trust me, so expect more out of the same characters and situations, just on a deeper level.
So sit back, relax, and let the gay Carrie Bradshaw take the wheel. You’re going to love it, I promise.
Editor’s Note: This is the first in a series of columns by Kyle Langan about life as a gay man in West Hollywood and Los Angeles.
