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Jan. 22nd, 2011 11:55 pm
I really am this boring
This was a nice low-key day. ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
monshu and I headed down to A-ville for our weekly shopping. (When it comes to smokes, he's a man who values freshness, apparently.) My regular tea was back in stock at Pars so I bought 400 g as a bulwark against the next drought. (You're attracted by the food porn, but you stick around for the badly mixed metaphors!) Lunch was at Icosium. (Note to self: Salmon not as salty as last time, but the crêpe sat too long and the chef forgot my dill.) I went a little mad at Middle Eastern Bakery, getting not only pita and dip plus the falafel Manguito requested for the party we were going to, but also mint-flavoured kefir, Turkish diggy biscuits, citrus shortbread cookie pieces, roasted almonds, dried apricots, and a candied fig.
The apartment was a little funky. I remember standing on ceremony (I don't have to be invited to sit down before I will, but one likes to be, no?) and thinking to myself I don't think I'll be back. But it was hard not to be won over by the soft-spoken Montenegrin father, who continued to neaten as we all indulged Manguito's need to vent a bit about work. Hours later I got around to asking him about the icons of St Nicholas on the wall; he told me that, yes, the slava (on December 19th, just as you might expect) was still a big deal.
Initially, I was reminded of my own first attempt at a game night, only here there was a clear division as the parents of the two rugrats and a couple of their friends collected in the room where a Thomas the Tank Engine and Friends marathon was underway while the rest of us sat around the dining room table. Eventually Chez Dork was pulled from the boxes piled on either side and we had a reasonably diverting couple of games before I went and pulled in a couple more warm bodies for a punchy game of Hex Hex.
Things broke up early on account of adolescent bedtime. Driving me back home, Manguito decided to pop into Jackhammer "just to see what it's like". We had a nice chat with the bartender about his dreams of opening a gay bar in his hometown of Manhattan (Kansas, that is) and we all lamented how the atmosphere there had changed once the new basement backroom was introduced. Sure enough, a couple of cute bears wandered in eventually, but Manguito could get no play and around eleven (after dancing to a few retro hits on the empty dancefloor) we headed out.
Poor Manguito! He's massively sweet on me. Thoroughly quashing his hopes would feel cruel, allowing them to exist feels dishonest. I just wish he could meet the honey he's hungry for and make the whole issue moot. I seldom envy straight men, but sometimes it would be nice to have friends you could go out on the prowl with without having to worry about ending up in their jaws.
monshu and I headed down to A-ville for our weekly shopping. (When it comes to smokes, he's a man who values freshness, apparently.) My regular tea was back in stock at Pars so I bought 400 g as a bulwark against the next drought. (You're attracted by the food porn, but you stick around for the badly mixed metaphors!) Lunch was at Icosium. (Note to self: Salmon not as salty as last time, but the crêpe sat too long and the chef forgot my dill.) I went a little mad at Middle Eastern Bakery, getting not only pita and dip plus the falafel Manguito requested for the party we were going to, but also mint-flavoured kefir, Turkish diggy biscuits, citrus shortbread cookie pieces, roasted almonds, dried apricots, and a candied fig.The apartment was a little funky. I remember standing on ceremony (I don't have to be invited to sit down before I will, but one likes to be, no?) and thinking to myself I don't think I'll be back. But it was hard not to be won over by the soft-spoken Montenegrin father, who continued to neaten as we all indulged Manguito's need to vent a bit about work. Hours later I got around to asking him about the icons of St Nicholas on the wall; he told me that, yes, the slava (on December 19th, just as you might expect) was still a big deal.
Initially, I was reminded of my own first attempt at a game night, only here there was a clear division as the parents of the two rugrats and a couple of their friends collected in the room where a Thomas the Tank Engine and Friends marathon was underway while the rest of us sat around the dining room table. Eventually Chez Dork was pulled from the boxes piled on either side and we had a reasonably diverting couple of games before I went and pulled in a couple more warm bodies for a punchy game of Hex Hex.
Things broke up early on account of adolescent bedtime. Driving me back home, Manguito decided to pop into Jackhammer "just to see what it's like". We had a nice chat with the bartender about his dreams of opening a gay bar in his hometown of Manhattan (Kansas, that is) and we all lamented how the atmosphere there had changed once the new basement backroom was introduced. Sure enough, a couple of cute bears wandered in eventually, but Manguito could get no play and around eleven (after dancing to a few retro hits on the empty dancefloor) we headed out.
Poor Manguito! He's massively sweet on me. Thoroughly quashing his hopes would feel cruel, allowing them to exist feels dishonest. I just wish he could meet the honey he's hungry for and make the whole issue moot. I seldom envy straight men, but sometimes it would be nice to have friends you could go out on the prowl with without having to worry about ending up in their jaws.