"CRAP! I think I just accidentally set up a trick."
That was my call for help yesterday afternoon. I'll explain.
There were a couple of new guys in my Saturday morning Yoga class, and I was talking with one when class was over. Turns out he's in town for an extended business trip, and kinda came across the class by accident. As we're chatting, he mentions hanging out sometime, as he doesn't really know many people in town. I'm a friendly guy, so I agree and we exchange numbers. At some point in the afternoon, as I'm taking a nap, my phone rings. It's Dancer Boy (he's a dance choreographer) seeing if I'm available to hang.
"Sure, man. Sounds like fun. Wanna grab a bite to eat or something?" I ask groggily. I mean, I was taking a nap. "Why don't I just come over to your place, you're close by where I am, aren't you?" he responds. I agree, hang up the phone, and put my head back on the pillow.
"Wait! What?!?!" I exclaim as I bolt upright.
At this point, my mind starts racing. Is he thinking this is a hook-up? He know about Brit Boy, right? I mean, I was talking about him after class, as well as my upcoming trip to Thailand to meet up with him. Was I flirting with him when we were chatting after class? I don't think so. Crap. What is he expecting?
So I send out the text at the top to my Twitter friends. I talk with my friend Sincerity as we have plans to get together for dinner and drinks later on. Basically, I try to figure out if this is all harmless hanging out time or if he's wanting something else.
As it turns out, all that worrying was for nothing. When I talked to Dancer Boy I brought up the issue of what he was expecting. "I was just thinking it'd be cool to hang out."
It was fun. Sincerity thought he was a cool guy too. He showed up about the same time that Dancer Boy came over. I mean, I needed to make sure someone would know if I was dead. Killed by some psycho killer.
I'm all about lessons learned as of late. Today's installment?
Cotton swab inserted into your urethra when you're hungover = not fun. (Honestly, it's never fun)
Yes, boys and girls, this morning was the six-month trip to the STD clinic. I went mostly out of habit. Brit Boy has been my only sexual partner since my last trip, but I've said it before - I'm a creature of habit.
As I was getting ready to leave work today, I went back to my desk to get my "street" clothes so that I could ride my bike home. As I'm gathering my things, I say, "Hrmmm... now where did I put my clothes?"
My coworker pipes up, "Now that's not something you hear everyday at work."
As a side note to my adventures this weekend out in Spicewood, there is a lesson learned.
When, after drinking and hanging out in the hot tub for several hours, and you need to answer nature's call... if you choose to just run out in the field and "water the plants," make sure you either 1) put at least some chanclas on, and 2) don't stand *in* a fire ant bed.
Uncomfortable doesn't even begin to describe how my feet feel right now.
Spicewood, Texas.
Population 5,527
Not a place where you would usually find me. But there I was, sitting poolside on Saturday afternoon, enjoying a couple of nice, cold beers and watching the sun lazily venture toward the horizon. A friend of mine was having a BBQ housewarming gathering at his new place out in the Texas Hill Country. The weather was beautiful and the pool and hot tub were just fantastic.
We stayed up late, swapping manly stories, and made plans to make waffles in the morning. As the night wore on, each of our crowd started to make their way to their bedrooms. (It's a big, beautiful house out in the country). I curled up in my room and quickly fell asleep.
I was awakened just after 9:30am to my host coming into the room, wondering where her husband and another friend were. Cuz they weren't in the house, and a car was gone.
"Fuck," I said. "Well, when I went to bed around 3am they had started talking about going mudding," I had to tell her. So now my mind starts working. The party started around 3pm Saturday afternoon. We were drinking, casually, all day. By 3am Sunday morning, I know I was in no condition to drive, which was why we all were staying the night. And yet, these two f*ckheads thought it was a good idea to head out into the countryside and go muddin.
Oh, and they'd left their mobile phones at the house, so we couldn't call them.
I start picturing the Ford Explorer rolled over in a ditch, them layed up in the hospital. Or them sitting in the jail cell of the small town, backwater sheriff's office.
So, just as the rest of us party-goers are dressed and out the door to wander down to the river to see if maybe they had just driven down there to drink and ended up curling up all Brokeback style in the back, we get a phone call. I overhear "We did a really stupid thing."
They decided to go muddin, as we thought, and wound up with a flat tire on some rundown dirt road and were unable to change it. Without their phones, they were unable to call us. And so they slept in the truck, got up at daybreak, and then walked about 5 miles to the closest gas station.
To say they looked like hell when our host brought them back to the house is an understatement.
I think I may have bitten off more than I can chew.
I'm a flirt. A huge flirt. A gargantuan, colossal flirt. Brit Boy and I had a conversation about this at some point while he was here - I mean, just cuz I'm in a relationship doesn't mean I'm dead. So I flirt. Harmlessly. Shamelessly. And I think I got bitten by it.
I was out with Kelicious the other night, and we're just chatting away with all the cute boys in the bar - patrons, bartenders, shot boys, etc. The shot boy is just hanging out with us, taking a break, chatting away. He's cute. He's shirtless. He just got finished letting a patron take a body shot off of him. Classy.
He leans over to me, and asks if he can rub my head (I keep my hair cut pretty short). "Of course," I say. He leans over and rubs my head (the one on top of my neck).
"Oh, you meant *that* head," I reply, with a coy smile.
He put his hand on my leg, "I'll rub the other one anytime you like."
*eeep*
In line for the bathroom:
Guy #1: Hey, do happen to have any...?
Guy #2: Blow? No, I can't seem to find any tonight.
Guy #1: Yeah, it's all these fucking California cokeheads. I mean, I'm all for SXSW, but they've drained all my normal dealers.
It's always the little things that get looked over when planning these huge events.
I was in a meeting this morning, a meeting to which I was only tangentially associated. As such, I wasn't really paying close attention to what was going on and was daydreaming. My daydreams, as is usual these days, were focused on Brit Boy.
Suddenly I have a raging hard-on straining against my slacks. And then I hear someone say, "Well that's about it for right now everyone..."
*shit* Meeting's over. But... um... I can't stand up. *eeep*
Conversation on the way to a BBQ with my friend Sincerity:
Me: What the hell is that woman trying to do, ram her car up my ass?
Sincerity: Have you (and I'm paraphrasing here for propriety) taken care of business in the last couple of days?
Me: Ummm.... actually no, I haven't.
Sincerity: You need to take care of that pronto!!
See!?! All work and no... er... release makes me a grumpy gus!!!
Apparently strange things were afoot at the Circle K last night. As I have an early morning class on Saturday mornings, it's not very often that I venture out on Friday nights. That, and with my new job, by the time Friday evening comes around, I have no energy to do much of anything. (Or maybe it's because I taught a Spinning and a Yoga class back-to-back last night after work... hrmmm).
Anyway, I dragged my weary ass into bed around 10:45pm, and promptly crashed. Some time around 3am, my bedroom door opens and I damn near jump out of my skin. It's my friend Sincerity telling me that he cabbed it to my place (which is much closer to downtown than his) cuz of some strange occurences out at the bars, and that he was gonna crash in my guest room. (He has a key to my place).
I promptly pass back out.
When I awoke around 7:30am, I checked my phone to find all sorts of missed calls, voicemails, and text messages. Some were from Sincerity seeing if I was up and out to pick him up (which I would have happily done had I been awake at 2am), a few were from other friends seeing if I was out, going to be out, going to after hour parties, etc. Finally, there were some from some drama-encrusted people wanting to talk, bitch, vent.
I'm glad I've gotten over my light-sleeping since Brit Boy left and I slept through all that crap.
So y'all all know that Brit Boy is off chasing summer around the globe for the next several months. He returns to Austin in mid-August, just in time for us to head off to the desert. In the meantime, this has meant that we're both dealing with cold, empty beds and cuddling with lumpy pillows.
Fuck that shit.
I've booked a flight to Bangkok, Thailand so I can spend some time with my man. Granted, it's about 6 weeks away, but I've got something to really look forward to. Well, aside from the standard "I haven't seen you in three-months" greeting I'm sure we'll be busy with, we're gonna go S.C.U.B.A. diving, head to some buddhist temples, and just sort of skulk around Thailand.
Oh yeah, and on top of a fabulous two-week vacation in Southeast Asia, the legs of my trip are in either the first or business class cabins. Brit Boy asked whether I should save the money and fly coach. I'll say it once more:
Fuck that shit. If I'm flying over an ocean... I'm going in style.
Tonight I gave in to temptation. I'm in Dallas on a business trip, and met up with ScottoLuminus for dinner and a show. It was at the show, for an electronic group Justice, that I indulged. It was a simple slip. I didn't mean for it to happen. I had no idea that it was going to.
Tonight I danced in the United States.
See, I don't dance in the U.S. I gave that up a few years ago when I came to realize that really and truly the music here just freakin' sucks. And I mean it sucks my left big toe. So when I go out to the clubs, I don't dance. Now, before anyone says anything, dancing to 80s music DOES NOT COUNT. (Hey, this is my story, I get to make up the rules.)
I don't know what came over me. It started with just a little toe tapping. Then a little booty-shaking. Next thing you know, it's a full-on dance-like motion coursing all over my body. It was like I was in a game of Dance Dance Revolution!
Now, I have to admit that it was intermittent. I just didn't completely agree with the progression of some of the songs. Some were really catchy. Some, not so much. But, it was enough to lure me into shaking my groove-thang, which is a rare occurence indeed.
Today was Sunday brunch. This means that a large faggle convenes over at a friend's place for mimosas (a.k.a. Buck's Fizz), trash talking, and various menu items from the W.A.S.P. Cookbook. Trust me - it's a southern thing.
Near the end of the brunch, our host brought out a pair of ill-fitting boots he received from his loving mother, offering them up to whomever they might fit.
Oh... did I mention these were Prada boots?
Well, after various of us tried to force our feet into the Cinderella shoes, it came down to three people. For one, the boots seemed slightly too large. For another, they were just a bit tight. And yes, dear goldilocks, one was just right.
So what's the point of me telling you this? Just as it seemed sure that Ms. Goldilocks was gonna go home with her Rice-A-Roni, a newcomer to the brunch blurted out, "Someone get me a salt tablet. I'll make my feet swell up so those damn things fit!!!"
Don't come between a fag and her Prada, m-kay!!
Yet another Saturday night out on the town here in Austin. A good time was had. However, challenges are always lurking just around the corner.
Within minutes of arriving out tonight, I encountered SA Boy. I haven't seen him since he left my house almost 2 years ago. In line for the bathroom, I heard my name called. I turned and saw him. It was nice talking to him tonight, but it was definitely interesting.
When I started casually chatting with him he stated, rather presumptuasly, "you're single?" I had to reply that I was not. I mean even though Brit Boy is in Sydney right now celebrating Sydney Mardi Gras, we are committed to each other. Upon me saying, "no, I'm not," I saw the light in his eyes go out. I'm not sure what he expected. Cuz from what I remember he's not a casual hook-up kinda guy. But that's definitely the vibe that I got from him tonight.
And then there was Tina Boy. Also from San Antonio, this boy was brought into the group I was hanging out with by Kelicious. This boy was tweaking so hard on Tina that I feared for his future oral hygiene. I mean the clenching and grinding of his teeth made me cringe.
But even through all that, he was able to rub all up against me and make it known that it wasn't a simply admiration of my ass in my jeans that he was interested in. Hot? Yes. But DAMN!! Lay off the pipe, girl!
Anyway. It's late, and I need to be heading to bed. I mean, come on... it's sleepy time!
I spent the better part of today in College Station, Texas. Normally, I wouldn't go to College Station (the home of Texas A&M) if my life depended on it. But there's a fitness workshop that I attend most years that happened to be out at A&M this year.
There were, however, a couple of instances that made the trek out into bum-fuck Texas worth it.
1) There was a swim meet going on. When I went in to the locker room to change for my first session of the workshop - OH MY GOD!!! Tall, lean, muscular boys in speedos. DAMN!!
2) Also at the Rec Center was a weight-lifting competition. Muscle dadies GALORE!!
(At this point I was about to swoon)
3) And the best point of it all? My first boss from when I started working at gyms about eight years ago approached me. At first she wasn't sure it was me. She said that she thought it was, but that "I hadn't aged at all."
I think I love her.
