Kyle mulls it over for a beat and then laughs, breaking the tension at the table. I feel myself relaxing as we down the rest of our whiskeys.
“Speaking of assholes,” he says, with a big grin on his face now, “I saw your vlog the other day. It was about some one night stand you had a few years ago. Very nice, dude!”
I choke on my drink, the smoky whiskey getting stuck in my throat and nearly coming right back up. Even when it clears I take a second before speaking. I hadn’t mentioned names in the vlog, so Kyle doesn’t know that the chick I was talking about fucking in a hotel room was the little sister he defends like a knight of the realm.
“Who was that chick?” he asks. “That was when I still came out with you, right?”
“Yeah,” I say, nodding a little too much. “Um… Sarah? I think. You know I don’t remember names. A redhead.”
“Ha! Sure,” Kyle smiles.
“You should come out with me again, man. We used to make a good fucking team. Don’t tell me you’re not getting any action these days?”
Kyle shrugs, his grin gone now.
“My mind’s been so focused on work for so long that I don’t even know if I’ve got any game anymore.”
“You’re not going to make any time for those British cuties on your trip? That sounds like a waste to me, dude.”
“It’ll be the same as ever. All work and no play. I bet I won’t even have time to see the sights. The most action I’ll get is probably watching your videos in a hotel room, so you’d better post something good, dude!”
Kyle’s smile is weak and sad, not just because it’s a feeble joke, but because every time we talk about my vlog we ignore the elephant in the room. That it was Kyle’s idea. That Kyle was just like me only a few years ago. And that it could very easily have been him who just hit over a million subscribers on his channel.
I thought it was the dumbest thing I ever heard at first. Who would watch a guy in a mask, or whose face was completely out of frame, leaving just his naked abs in shot, talking about his own sex life? At best we’d come off as bragging douchebags, at worst we’d be called out as fakers or perverts. Kyle loved the idea though. It was just when he was about to start making the vlog that work began taking over his life. Soon I was hitting the clubs on my own, and the only thing Kyle would talk to me about was making those damned videos, as if it was up to me to keep living the dream for both of us by starting up the vlog he’d envisioned.
So I did.
Mostly it was a favor to Kyle. The only thing I expected to happen after I posted the first video was to be proven right, and for nobody to watch. But they did. And they kept coming back for more. The views counter flew up into the thousands, then the hundreds of thousands, and the comment sections raged with people loving it and hating it. Kyle cheerleadered and told-you-soed every time I saw him. So I made another. And another. Then I made a brief but athletic how-to video the morning after with a girl I’d picked up the night before, instructing viewers on some of the more exotic positions I knew of, in nothing but our underwear (and her hands over her breasts). Things really began flying after that. I was a guru.
The first thing that surprised me was how many women were watching. You make videos about picking up women and your first expectation is that only men are going to be interested, but there were more girls than guys watching at my last count. Maybe it was just having great abs, or maybe it was seeing things from the other side, but either way, I wasn’t complaining. Then there were the messages. Nude photos and propositions, of course, tons of questions, pleas for advice, and even hate mail, but there were also invitations to be interviewed, a publisher wanting to talk about a book deal, and even someone who wanted me to speak at their university.
The whole thing seemed insane. But then again, sex sells – and even more so when people know it’s for real. I showed Kyle everything during every step. The messages, the responses, the figures, and he kept on supporting, but it was always tinged by a sense of disappointment that he’s too earnest to hide. We both knew it should have been him. The whole thing was wasted on me; I only did it because he urged me to, and then carried on because it seemed stupid to stop now. And though I hate to admit it, I’ve realized that some part of me needs it.
When I started receiving the checks from sponsors and paid advertisements, I told Kyle it was only right he received half. He looked at me like I’d just bought him lingerie for Christmas, and I never mentioned it again – even when the checks started hitting six figures.
“You still house-hunting?” Kyle says, after a big gulp of beer.
“A little. Truth is, I’ve already got my eyes on one place. It’s kind of an inside secret that it’s going up for sale soon – nobody really knows. I’m biding my time – and my cash flow.”