Bearstory
Sometimes I wish I could google my own thoughts. On the way to work this morning, I thought up an oblique opening for this post which I was keen to use, but I soon got distracted and forgot it and no amount of reviewing my morning is leading me to the spur that prompted it. At least my browser has a search history.
I'm sore all over but most of all on the soles of my feet. Eight hours of standing will do that to you. It was more time than I'd intended to spend at Market Days, but first I fell in with some pals and let them drag me around. Then I made some new friends and let them drag me around until finally I ran into an old trick in town for a visit. When it was down to just him and me, that's when I realised I needed to get my ass home.
So if I didn't see the full range of friends I was hoping to, I at least had a good time with the ones I did see. Including Pasillero. I think I'm getting better at spending time with him together with our mutuals. At first it was hella awkward because we have a lovely casual intimacy developed over the past year which we can't really indulge in in public but we've been together enough times in the company of others to give our rapport plausibility.
Yesterday, it turns out, was his third anniversary with his partner, who he met at the Lotto booth. It's long gone, but it stood in front of Mañanitas. Shortly after the Macy Gray set, the rest of the party bagged and I suddenly became a third wheel. As Pasillero and I surveyed the departing crowd, he said, "The one in the Handsome Bastard t-shirt is cute." "Um, yeah," I retorted, "that's why I've been checking him out for the last half hour!" It was all the hint I needed.
Long story short, it was six hours of heavy flirting but no making out, let alone going home together. I have his number and now a cute video of him playing with his cat. (We've spent more time texting each other about our cats than about what we'd do on a date.) Whether or not it comes to anything, I had someone to dance to an 80s cover band with and that's the sort of pleasure I've learned to be content with.
If I'd really wanted to take someone home, I could have brought back the old trick from El Paso. (I had a name for him here but I can't remember it and searching didn't work.) But then he wouldn't have left until morning and I knew I was getting little enough sleep as it was. We may yet get together this evening. Alles ist sowieso Ersatzbefriedigung.
I'm sore all over but most of all on the soles of my feet. Eight hours of standing will do that to you. It was more time than I'd intended to spend at Market Days, but first I fell in with some pals and let them drag me around. Then I made some new friends and let them drag me around until finally I ran into an old trick in town for a visit. When it was down to just him and me, that's when I realised I needed to get my ass home.
So if I didn't see the full range of friends I was hoping to, I at least had a good time with the ones I did see. Including Pasillero. I think I'm getting better at spending time with him together with our mutuals. At first it was hella awkward because we have a lovely casual intimacy developed over the past year which we can't really indulge in in public but we've been together enough times in the company of others to give our rapport plausibility.
Yesterday, it turns out, was his third anniversary with his partner, who he met at the Lotto booth. It's long gone, but it stood in front of Mañanitas. Shortly after the Macy Gray set, the rest of the party bagged and I suddenly became a third wheel. As Pasillero and I surveyed the departing crowd, he said, "The one in the Handsome Bastard t-shirt is cute." "Um, yeah," I retorted, "that's why I've been checking him out for the last half hour!" It was all the hint I needed.
Long story short, it was six hours of heavy flirting but no making out, let alone going home together. I have his number and now a cute video of him playing with his cat. (We've spent more time texting each other about our cats than about what we'd do on a date.) Whether or not it comes to anything, I had someone to dance to an 80s cover band with and that's the sort of pleasure I've learned to be content with.
If I'd really wanted to take someone home, I could have brought back the old trick from El Paso. (I had a name for him here but I can't remember it and searching didn't work.) But then he wouldn't have left until morning and I knew I was getting little enough sleep as it was. We may yet get together this evening. Alles ist sowieso Ersatzbefriedigung.