Dog bites man

So--in the most predictable turn of events ever--I gave Useless Fuckboi another chance and he blew it. Actually, depending on your accounting, I gave him two more chances. He initially asked to meet Thursday but then around noon he texted asking to reschedule. He told me that, the night before, his estranged ex had tried to break down his door and he'd ended up calling the cops (a story which I accepted at face value at the time but now I'm beginning to doubt). He asked if I was free on the weekend, and I was like, well, I'm meeting my friends at the beach Sunday afternoon and that's right by your place so maybe I could stop by afterwards?

He was enthusiastic; we discussed the idea and made plans. He sent me nude selfies. That morning he texted me "Hi" and I responded "Good morning". Later, from the beach, I sent a cute picture of me and Kayla. No responses. As the party broke up, my friends asked me what I was about and I was like "He has until the bus comes to get back to me." As it turned out, the bus wasn't coming for a while so he had plenty of time to fail to get back to me. I sat in the park next to his apartment building and left a voicemail. Finally, I headed home and fixed myself dinner and a cocktail.

I made the decision not to be angry. Why? What difference would it make? On the ride home I'd been formulating snarky things to say. I was going to congratulate him on using the opportunities I'd given him to cement his reputation as a useless fuckboi. In the end I discarded them all and finally sent a neutral message to the effect of "This seems like self-sabotage to me and I hope you get help." He hasn't responded and I doubt he will. Given how stroppy he was before, I imagine he's found some what to take offence at this. So what; fundamentally not my problem.

The day at the beach, btw, was terrific. The idea germinated the Sunday before when I went there after Greek Fest and was joined by a big red pal of mine who is not Big Red. We decided we needed another beach day and floated the idea in our big gay chat group. Despite a health advisory due to Canadian wildfire smoke, we got a dozen friends to join us including "the children" (Kayla and RJ) and Big Red and his boyfriend. For our friends JIves, it was their first beach day of the entire year.

The weather was great, the water was comfortable (RJ surprised me by going in waist deep with a fraction of the fuss he made last year), and most surprising of all I actually did something sportsbally: We found a fun trio with a floating stereo out on the water and tossed around a spongy little ball for what felt like a solid hour or more. This was especially gratifying because it gave me an opportunity to chat with a cute guy I'd been ogling since he'd arrived a while earlier. That's me--always looking for the next potential disappointment!

The Bear Whisperer

What the hell, here's a fun story from the weekend to balance out my bellyaching.

Friday night, Daddy Daycare took place at Farragut's again. The windows were open and there was a big nerdy bearish guy sitting in one of them. As per usual, our group took up the rest of the forward space, from the front wall to the bar. Apparently a couple of our number--including Kayla--attempted to draw him in and got rebuffed.

Finally my buddy CD, the event organiser, came up to me and said, "Someone should make friends with that guy and it should be you." I was two or three whiskeys in by that point (I'd taught the bartender how to make a Boulvardier) and in a very up mood so it was easy to go up to him and ask if he'd been responsible for playing the last three songs on jukebox, all of which had been favourites of mine.

He hadn't, but he advised me that it might have been the bartender. I noticed he had a posh accent and asked if he might be English, but turned out to be a Kiwi from a small town north of Wellington. "Even my New Zealand friends think I sound English." He mused that it might have been due to attending the University of Singapore, where he'd gone to study one thing and ended up majoring in the history of Vietnam. He's now an assistant professor at the university where I work. Well, that did it; as soon as he found out I was in the Library, he asked, "Can't I rant for a little bit?" and went off on what he saw as the flaws in our business model. Happily, they had nothing to do with our behaviour and everything to do with the administration's idiocy.

One by one, my friends drifted away from the bar. Several stopped by the window to say their farewells. The organiser found me and said, with enthusiastic respect, "You're the bear whisperer!" When I checked my messages, I found that Kayla had taken a creeper shot from behind and shared it to a four-way chat with RJ and Clint with the caption "I think everyone in our group tried to engage this guy and failed and this is him and Da after 20 minutes." To introverts like the three of them, this is basically a superpower. Kayla once told me, "You're fearless! You'll talk to anyone." And while he's not quite correct, it's lovely to have my strengths recognised and praised.