What a Thursday we had!
I've come to the conclusion that I'm rapidly becoming a barfly. Perhaps it's my genetic makeup that provides a propensity to drink--as far as I can recall back, there was alcohol available in my family, starting with a particularly memorable party spent in a here when I was just a wee thing. It's one of my most vivid memories, because I ordered a grasshopper. I got this instead.
Good times. Anyway, back to Thursday.
It started off easy enough. I was playing around on the computer, and chatting with various people, including a fellow what I occasionally have random sex with. Apparently, he was already engaged, because he asked how I felt about 3-somes. Truthfully, they haven't been a popular thing, because of the odd number. In my not so vast experience, someone gets bored early (usually me) and retreats. I'll stop there in the interest of avoiding an 'overshare.'
I began a conversation with this other fellow, whom I'll call FA. One thing in particular impressed me about FA-he said "I'm horny, but I can carry on a non-sexual conversation." Lotsa points for that!
We continued to chat about this and that, and time came for the usual Thursday night drinking fest with the gay.com group (effete bastards that we are.) Normally, there's quite a crowd, which is odd, given that Thursday is technically a 'school night' This Thursday was not typical.
Nobody was there.
I take that back, there were a couple chums there, and I socialized and made proper introductions when I remembered to. The balance of the evening was spent in polite conversation, with occasional bouts of "white boy on the dance floor." But that's not what made this evening so noteworthy.
Early on in the evening, I noticed a tall, dark, mysterious yummy-looking drink of water leaning on a wall. At first, I thought he was someone else, but his stare confirmed that he was indeed a stranger. Well, Dark Mysterious Cute Boy (DMCB) sauntered over and held up a corner of wall a bit closer. I felt like a freak, because every time I looked up, there he was, staring. I checked behind me to see if there was some broad flashing her titties behind me, but none. We made a lap of the bar, and continued conversation, when I noticed that *poof* he was there again.
This chase continued, and for the bulk of the evening, provided some uneasy amusement. Later, it dawned on me--why do I only see hot interested boys when I'm with someone else? Bizarre. Granted, FA and I weren't more than casual acquaintances, having known each other for just a handful of hours. Still yet, ditching your date in a bar is just rude, especially when you provided his ride.
Every time I turned around, DMCB was there. On the dance floor, shaking his ass (well, I might add) so I kept looking. Now, to my credit, I did look cute. I had a new outfit on (so much easier than doing laundry) along with my awesome new glasses which I'm REALLY liking more and more. (DMCB also had cute glasses--more points) At one point, DMCB was very close, and I'm sure he was close enough to overhear our conversation, because that's when he departed for quite a while. I was nearly tempted to talk with DMCB, but for aforementioned reason (being out with FA) it might have seemed odd. Besides, experience tells us not to talk to boys who have exhibited stalker-like behaviour. Reference the entry on my cell-phone "Psycho Stalker Bitch."
Time passes, and DMCB saunters off, being replaced by a fellow standing under the balcony where Peron and I stand to judge people unfairly. To say he was playing pocket pool would have been an understatement. My thought was that he didn't actually have pockets in his trousers, and was in fact masturbating.
Ucky tuh!
If that wasn't enough to top off an evening's entertainment, there was a terribly dramatic exchange involving pushing and some girly punches. I was tempted to run over and tell the girls to go get some fighting lessons and try again, but resisted. The girly twink-y boy was pulled of the frumpy twink-wannabe boy, and words were exchanged. Suffice to say, Girly twink-y boy was soon seen curled up on the floor in the fetal position sobbing uncontrollably. Oh to be young and drunk at 21. Pretty tragic. It hails back to the days at the old Abbey, where drama was served up with your latte.
The balance of the evening was pretty low key. I called it quits and was home by 2am, and for the record, FA and I exchanged only the briefest of kisses. We made up for that on Friday, when all of the effete wankers from gay.com were out in force. Out on the dance floor, and quite swept up in the happiness of it all, FA and I enjoyed a major liplock. Whee!
I was incredibly random that night, and for some reason wasn't able to focus on one individual, so I just kept trading people off, dragging various people on the dance floor (and no, the music wasn't all that good) DMCB was there, but he wasn't attentive at all. I guess I wasn't as stalkable as he had thought.
I wasn't even drunk, as my darts score reflected. Again, we left at 2am for breakfast at Canary beneath the fluorescent lights. Nobody looks good in fluorescent lighting. Not even DMCB, I'm sure, but by the same token he would have looked mighty hot over eggs and toast Actually, FA would have looked good too--he's got the cute thing tied up. Then again, black men fare better in fluorescence than we pasty white boys do.
Home alone, and slept alone in my bed. I know that sounds kind of tragic, but I'm really growing fond of it. Being single is really an awesome thing, I've decided. Of course, I'll probably change opinions in a few months, but for the time, I enjoy the solitude and the ability to stretch out over my whole bed and curl up with my bankie without fear of freezing out another soul.
...but it is still nice to curl up in the arms of another in the middle of the night, feeling his warmth on my back and his arm on my chest, and his breath needing a tic-tac on my neck. Yes the dog-breath thing may sound cruel, but just remember these words:
I've come to the conclusion that I'm rapidly becoming a barfly. Perhaps it's my genetic makeup that provides a propensity to drink--as far as I can recall back, there was alcohol available in my family, starting with a particularly memorable party spent in a here when I was just a wee thing. It's one of my most vivid memories, because I ordered a grasshopper. I got this instead.
Good times. Anyway, back to Thursday.
It started off easy enough. I was playing around on the computer, and chatting with various people, including a fellow what I occasionally have random sex with. Apparently, he was already engaged, because he asked how I felt about 3-somes. Truthfully, they haven't been a popular thing, because of the odd number. In my not so vast experience, someone gets bored early (usually me) and retreats. I'll stop there in the interest of avoiding an 'overshare.'
I began a conversation with this other fellow, whom I'll call FA. One thing in particular impressed me about FA-he said "I'm horny, but I can carry on a non-sexual conversation." Lotsa points for that!
We continued to chat about this and that, and time came for the usual Thursday night drinking fest with the gay.com group (effete bastards that we are.) Normally, there's quite a crowd, which is odd, given that Thursday is technically a 'school night' This Thursday was not typical.
Nobody was there.
I take that back, there were a couple chums there, and I socialized and made proper introductions when I remembered to. The balance of the evening was spent in polite conversation, with occasional bouts of "white boy on the dance floor." But that's not what made this evening so noteworthy.
Early on in the evening, I noticed a tall, dark, mysterious yummy-looking drink of water leaning on a wall. At first, I thought he was someone else, but his stare confirmed that he was indeed a stranger. Well, Dark Mysterious Cute Boy (DMCB) sauntered over and held up a corner of wall a bit closer. I felt like a freak, because every time I looked up, there he was, staring. I checked behind me to see if there was some broad flashing her titties behind me, but none. We made a lap of the bar, and continued conversation, when I noticed that *poof* he was there again.
This chase continued, and for the bulk of the evening, provided some uneasy amusement. Later, it dawned on me--why do I only see hot interested boys when I'm with someone else? Bizarre. Granted, FA and I weren't more than casual acquaintances, having known each other for just a handful of hours. Still yet, ditching your date in a bar is just rude, especially when you provided his ride.
Every time I turned around, DMCB was there. On the dance floor, shaking his ass (well, I might add) so I kept looking. Now, to my credit, I did look cute. I had a new outfit on (so much easier than doing laundry) along with my awesome new glasses which I'm REALLY liking more and more. (DMCB also had cute glasses--more points) At one point, DMCB was very close, and I'm sure he was close enough to overhear our conversation, because that's when he departed for quite a while. I was nearly tempted to talk with DMCB, but for aforementioned reason (being out with FA) it might have seemed odd. Besides, experience tells us not to talk to boys who have exhibited stalker-like behaviour. Reference the entry on my cell-phone "Psycho Stalker Bitch."
Time passes, and DMCB saunters off, being replaced by a fellow standing under the balcony where Peron and I stand to judge people unfairly. To say he was playing pocket pool would have been an understatement. My thought was that he didn't actually have pockets in his trousers, and was in fact masturbating.
Ucky tuh!
If that wasn't enough to top off an evening's entertainment, there was a terribly dramatic exchange involving pushing and some girly punches. I was tempted to run over and tell the girls to go get some fighting lessons and try again, but resisted. The girly twink-y boy was pulled of the frumpy twink-wannabe boy, and words were exchanged. Suffice to say, Girly twink-y boy was soon seen curled up on the floor in the fetal position sobbing uncontrollably. Oh to be young and drunk at 21. Pretty tragic. It hails back to the days at the old Abbey, where drama was served up with your latte.
The balance of the evening was pretty low key. I called it quits and was home by 2am, and for the record, FA and I exchanged only the briefest of kisses. We made up for that on Friday, when all of the effete wankers from gay.com were out in force. Out on the dance floor, and quite swept up in the happiness of it all, FA and I enjoyed a major liplock. Whee!
I was incredibly random that night, and for some reason wasn't able to focus on one individual, so I just kept trading people off, dragging various people on the dance floor (and no, the music wasn't all that good) DMCB was there, but he wasn't attentive at all. I guess I wasn't as stalkable as he had thought.
I wasn't even drunk, as my darts score reflected. Again, we left at 2am for breakfast at Canary beneath the fluorescent lights. Nobody looks good in fluorescent lighting. Not even DMCB, I'm sure, but by the same token he would have looked mighty hot over eggs and toast Actually, FA would have looked good too--he's got the cute thing tied up. Then again, black men fare better in fluorescence than we pasty white boys do.
Home alone, and slept alone in my bed. I know that sounds kind of tragic, but I'm really growing fond of it. Being single is really an awesome thing, I've decided. Of course, I'll probably change opinions in a few months, but for the time, I enjoy the solitude and the ability to stretch out over my whole bed and curl up with my bankie without fear of freezing out another soul.
...but it is still nice to curl up in the arms of another in the middle of the night, feeling his warmth on my back and his arm on my chest, and his breath needing a tic-tac on my neck. Yes the dog-breath thing may sound cruel, but just remember these words:
In the middle of the night, everyone needs a Tic-Tac.
1 comment:
Yeah, I have to admit I do get hungry in the middle of the night for my tic-tac! =P
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