The Consequences of being “The Boyfriend of Bret Easton Ellis”

A little over 11 years ago, my then boyfriend, Russell, told me one afternoon that we were going to be having dinner at The Magic Castle in Hollywood. We’d been there a few days prior, and Russell was a member of the exclusive club, which requires suit jackets be worn at all times and offers guests dinner and a comedy set.

He told me that we’d be having a dinner to find “Bret Easton Ellis” a boyfriend.

“Who is that again?” I asked Russell as we were driving down Santa Monica Boulevard, somewhere on the east edge of West Hollywood, past a Target in a minimall.

“Are you serious? He’s only the greatest writer of 20th century literature.”

I had a B.A. in creative writing from The University of Iowa and I had heard the name “Bret Easton Ellis” a few times, so it wasn’t as though I was completely unaware. He had written American Psycho, apparently, though I don’t know that I ever thought of the two phrases, American Psycho and Bret Easton Ellis, in the same sentence.

Russell had a way of making me feel like I was always wanting way more than I should ever have. In fact, the world seemed to work similarly. My sister, brothers, and parents had told me for years that my dreams of becoming a great singer were ridiculous. They insulted my singing. They minimized the theme songs to animated shows.

“You are nothing,” my father, a 4 time emmy award winning producer once said. “Without me, you are nothing. You didn’t get any of those jobs because of your talent. Anyone could go in there and write a song. You are my son and that is why you got it.”

I think I believed him for most of my life actually. But the truth was it never mattered to me. I was happy to forget SamSam, and the other songs I wrote for cartoons airing all around the world. Translated into many languages. There was little to zero recognition by anybody for my having written these songs, but I also didn’t brag about them, knowing that it could easily be traced back to the “birth lottery” that my dad had so often told me I’d won.

Russell seemed to get possessive when he was talking about “Bret Easton Ellis”. I had no idea what he looked like and until that day in November — or was it December?- I had no idea what he even looked like. No image in my head. No frame of reference. All that said, I was somehow aware that he was a very important writer first and foremost.

I was working at a dinky animation studio in Sherman Oaks at the time. Russell seemed to find that job acceptable enough to tout to people. I hated every minute of it.

In order to go to The Magic Castle, I needed to find a suit. I had never purchased a suit in my life. I had never even thought about it, and I also didn’t have the money — nor do i now- to purchase a nice suit. At the time, I was somehow convinced a low end, awkwardly oversized suit from Marshall’s would suffice.

When I tried it on, I hated it. But I really didn’t care that much either. I was still Todd, in a suit, or in a shirt. I had a pair of gold rimmed ‘Harry Potter’ glasses that I was wearing. Contacts made me irritable, so I bought the most inexpensive frames and lenses that would help me see.

The drive from the animation studio to The Magic Castle was always a bit tense. Months earlier, I was caught in traffic so bad, I missed over an hour of Russell’s birthday dinner at Comme Ca in West Hollywood. Russell held it over my head for the rest of our relationship, though I still loved him.

And even with that love, I saw glimpses of something dark in Russell. I saw moments of selfishness and entitlement that confused me, although, considering his deep insecurity as a film maker, and his father’s 100 million dollar internet fortune, I was probably naive about the degree to which Russell felt entitled.

I parked my 1996 VW Jetta with the valet. That car was extremely cool, but a genuine beater in many ways. I was probably ashamed of it, but honestly, I probably really didn’t give it much thought. I was chronically ashamed of a lot of things, and the car really didn’t hit the top 5.

“You’re my cashless boyfriend,” Russell once said to me, as we were parking at the airport to go on a Russell-expense-paid vacation to veil, where I was subjected to Russell going skiing without me and him complaining that I wasn’t grateful enough. — Months earlier, we had dinner with the incomporable actress Karen Black. A true master of acting and talent.

The bill came out to 500 dollars or so and none but Russell could even offer a fraction of the bill. I thanked Russell, after an extremely awkward silence, when it became apparent that not Karen, nor her friends, could afford the bill. Russell was enraged, but kept it somewhat suppressed. The next day he called me while I was at my parents house in the valley and scolded me for not having said thank you the night before. I had, but he was a very insecure man and I was only 23, too inexperienced to see that I was being gaslit.

Walking into The Magic Castle I felt nervous. Celebrities made me nervous. I felt as though they were entitled to deem me selfish, attention seeking or insignificant for the slightest odd glance.

I walked up the stairs, and into this open foyer where diners are led to their table and I saw a tall figure with an awkward chestnut brown hair color. It was almost as if he sensed me from a few yards away and he turned around and he looked me straight in the eyes.

His eyes were deep wells of empathy. There was the most gentle sadness pouring through. It was as if we had known each other for a long time though we had never met. While I did not know for certain that this was the famous author, I suspected it might be.

I think back now and wonder if he had been the same person, sans “Bret Easton Ellis”, an agent maybe? But those eyes were not the eyes of an agent. They were the eyes of a lover. Kinder than kind. (Later on, his sister Amy told me she had always called him a gentle giant.)

6 feet tall, taller than most, but not inordinately so, Bret stood out. His aura stood out so vividly that only at 34 and 11 years in can I see the distinction between Bret and the other men at the dinner that night.

That night I went back to Russell’s house and for the first time in our relationship, I was deeply in love. But it was not with Russell.