The past isn't ever really past
Sunday I went to the beach. It was my first visit of the year and it felt well overdue. On a whim, I texted a mature gentleman in North Park who I have sex with sometimes and convinced him to come along with me. ![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
clintswan came along as well and I was chuffed to see them relaxed enough to take their shirts off. Neither wanted to spend too much time in the sun so I was on my own by about 3 o'clock.
So I did what I usually do in these situations and bounced around the beach until I ran into someone else I knew. I set up my towel right by the water and turned my attention to the boys who were in it--one of whom, to my utter bewilderment, came right up to me and greeted me like we were old friends. Seeing I was at a lost, he said, "You dated Fernando for a bit."
Folks, I didn't "date Fernando". I attempted to go on one date with him which went completely pear-shaped. The one good thing I can say about it, however, were his friends, one of whom I gave a shout-out in my write-up for "show[ing] some genuine sympathy for me that night". He was there, too, as it turns out.
Almost immediately, however, the boyfriend of my aquatic amigo introduced himself and began chatting me up. Once he found out I was a librarian, he was like, "We have to be friends." I got introduced all around to their little gang and invited over hamburgers that evening. Since I'd purposely not made plans, I was entirely free. At one point, an absolutely adorable furball came over and chatted with us for a while before returning to his little pod further down the beach.
Their apartment was only two blocks inland. It was a nice casual affair, though a bit odd. There were two other Anglophones present besides me (the boyfriend and a Black man from SF I'd had a nice chat with on the beach); the other three guests were, like our hosts, hispanohablantes. One of them, despite chatting with me briefly at the shore, pretty much totally ignored me here, speaking exclusively Spanish to the others. Only the Simpático from the failed date made a real effort to include me.
Fortunately, two things happened to change the dynamic: The Furball came and joined us and the other three left, leaving the rest of us to have a good two-hour conversation about food and culture on the back porch. It was exactly the kind of gathering I've really missed over these last several years of pandemic. Here's hoping I get invited back!
clintswan came along as well and I was chuffed to see them relaxed enough to take their shirts off. Neither wanted to spend too much time in the sun so I was on my own by about 3 o'clock.So I did what I usually do in these situations and bounced around the beach until I ran into someone else I knew. I set up my towel right by the water and turned my attention to the boys who were in it--one of whom, to my utter bewilderment, came right up to me and greeted me like we were old friends. Seeing I was at a lost, he said, "You dated Fernando for a bit."
Folks, I didn't "date Fernando". I attempted to go on one date with him which went completely pear-shaped. The one good thing I can say about it, however, were his friends, one of whom I gave a shout-out in my write-up for "show[ing] some genuine sympathy for me that night". He was there, too, as it turns out.
Almost immediately, however, the boyfriend of my aquatic amigo introduced himself and began chatting me up. Once he found out I was a librarian, he was like, "We have to be friends." I got introduced all around to their little gang and invited over hamburgers that evening. Since I'd purposely not made plans, I was entirely free. At one point, an absolutely adorable furball came over and chatted with us for a while before returning to his little pod further down the beach.
Their apartment was only two blocks inland. It was a nice casual affair, though a bit odd. There were two other Anglophones present besides me (the boyfriend and a Black man from SF I'd had a nice chat with on the beach); the other three guests were, like our hosts, hispanohablantes. One of them, despite chatting with me briefly at the shore, pretty much totally ignored me here, speaking exclusively Spanish to the others. Only the Simpático from the failed date made a real effort to include me.
Fortunately, two things happened to change the dynamic: The Furball came and joined us and the other three left, leaving the rest of us to have a good two-hour conversation about food and culture on the back porch. It was exactly the kind of gathering I've really missed over these last several years of pandemic. Here's hoping I get invited back!