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No, homo
So, Saturday night. There was something called "Lumbersexual" at SoFo, so I texted Pasillero to find out if he was going. He was, so we made plans to meet there. I found him hiding in the back corner by the photo booth. He'd made no effort to dress to theme. (My effort was minimal, but only because I was worried about missing my bus.)
The place was pleasantly full for a change: lots of guys, but not so many that you couldn't move around or even dance. (Not that anyone ever does that there.) After drinking cranberry gin liqueur thinned with gin at the neighbours, I was fairly sloshed already. Didn't stop me from having a couple more drinks though.
People were friendly. I struck up convos with randos a couple times, including two remarkably similar looking black bearded pocket bears. One was local and there with his cute-ass Brazilian friend who'd just moved to town. Another was a transplant from LA. I didn't learn anything about his friend because he was chatting with Pasillero separately while I was talking to him.
I got a couple of guys' surnames (including the Brazilian's) in the hopes of finding them on social media later. I didn't. I also got the transplant's number, because he isn't on social media. We chatted a bit the next day and again today and it was...interesting.
He's originally from Romania and that might explain some of his hangups. At the bar, he told me he identified as bisexual. Then later it came out that what that meant was basically "inserter only". He told me that not only had he never bottomed ("and never will") but also "I don't even suck dicks". Um, good for you?
The next morning I was terribly hungover: headache, fatigue, and--most worryingly--twitchiness in my legs. Big Red suggested it might be low potassium so when I stumbled over to the corner diner for breakfast I ordered banana pancakes. Whether that helped or not, I felt good enough by afternoon to do some of the yardwork I'd been putting off indefinitely.
It got cold so early that I never had a chance to properly clean up the garden--by which I mean basically hacking up the mat of clematis and morning glory and stuffing it in a lawn trash bag. I also made a few judicious prunes of the lilacs and the smoketree. It felt exhausting but also satisfying.
Unfortunately it meant that I got almost none of the cleanup, menu planning, or grocery shopping done that I'd planned on. And with Pasillero coming over for a visit tonight, that gives me only Tuesday evening to finish preparing for Mom's arrival. At least I managed to get a pot of Dad's fish chowder finished so we have at least one ready meal.
The place was pleasantly full for a change: lots of guys, but not so many that you couldn't move around or even dance. (Not that anyone ever does that there.) After drinking cranberry gin liqueur thinned with gin at the neighbours, I was fairly sloshed already. Didn't stop me from having a couple more drinks though.
People were friendly. I struck up convos with randos a couple times, including two remarkably similar looking black bearded pocket bears. One was local and there with his cute-ass Brazilian friend who'd just moved to town. Another was a transplant from LA. I didn't learn anything about his friend because he was chatting with Pasillero separately while I was talking to him.
I got a couple of guys' surnames (including the Brazilian's) in the hopes of finding them on social media later. I didn't. I also got the transplant's number, because he isn't on social media. We chatted a bit the next day and again today and it was...interesting.
He's originally from Romania and that might explain some of his hangups. At the bar, he told me he identified as bisexual. Then later it came out that what that meant was basically "inserter only". He told me that not only had he never bottomed ("and never will") but also "I don't even suck dicks". Um, good for you?
The next morning I was terribly hungover: headache, fatigue, and--most worryingly--twitchiness in my legs. Big Red suggested it might be low potassium so when I stumbled over to the corner diner for breakfast I ordered banana pancakes. Whether that helped or not, I felt good enough by afternoon to do some of the yardwork I'd been putting off indefinitely.
It got cold so early that I never had a chance to properly clean up the garden--by which I mean basically hacking up the mat of clematis and morning glory and stuffing it in a lawn trash bag. I also made a few judicious prunes of the lilacs and the smoketree. It felt exhausting but also satisfying.
Unfortunately it meant that I got almost none of the cleanup, menu planning, or grocery shopping done that I'd planned on. And with Pasillero coming over for a visit tonight, that gives me only Tuesday evening to finish preparing for Mom's arrival. At least I managed to get a pot of Dad's fish chowder finished so we have at least one ready meal.