Aug. 30th, 2005 05:44 pm
Full night, cont.
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muckefuckUpdate on demand for ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
lil_m_moses!
Stopping by my apartment, I almost ran into my downstairs neighbour (hereafter "Freakazoid"). What I didn't notice at the time was how trashed he must have been judging by his condition about an hour later. He grabbed me on my way to put in a song request and a realised he could barely stand up. Later, he tracked me back to my table and began hitting on the Odd Portuguese Guy.
Now, let me explain his technique in a little more detail. (I've had to hear about it; why should you be spared?) It basically consists of finding an attractive guy and saying, "Hey, you, let's go fuck." No, seriously; one of his trysts began with depantsing a floormate in the elevator. (The following morning, one of our neighbours joked that I was one of only three guys in the building he hasn't had. Yep--and it's always going to be that way!)
I presume his overtures to OPG consisted of some variation on this. Fortunately, I didn't hear, but I did see Freakazoid basically collapsing on top of him. He did the same thing to me, too, coming over, laying his head on my shoulder, and then holding on for dear life. Can you think of anything more seductive? The odd part was when I apologised to OPG for inflicting Freakazoid on him, he was all smiles. "I like them weird," he said. "I really don't think you like them this weird," I countered, but he said something about they're being "fun to play with".
So I was treated to about another half-hour or so of their demented courtship. Freakazoid was complaining about being tired, so I kept encouraging him to go home. (At one point, he told me, "I'll leave my door open." Y'know--wink wink! Um...thanks?) OPG, on the other hand, kept trying to sit him down and sober him up, like maybe he'd take him up on his offers if he were simply a little less wasted? Before that could happen, though, Freakazoid wandered off.
Then the Latinos arrived.
My friend introduced me to Eddie, a fey middle-aged guy with a moustache, and he introduced us to his old friend Danny, all clean-shaven and muscle-teed and manly. I made small talk with Danny about his condo, which he shares with his lover--who works for the state of Utah. Danny himself lives on the South Side. I asked him the typical South Side question and he named a parish in Pilsen, although then he went into a rant about his agnosticism. He apparently has children, though his exact marital status and such is a mystery to me. In any case, he and his lover are only together on weekends. So, I've heard of stranger arrangements.
Eddie begins making references to his "sister", by which he means his drag persona. The two of them banter a bit about "her". Then he and Danny ask me about my ponytail, prompting me to undo my hair. Danny was, in his own words, "enthralled". If he said it once, he said forty times in that butch voice, "I love your fuckin' hair!" Now, I've had a lot of people admire my hair over the years, but I've never had a reaction like this. I seriously thought he was going to spunk himself just from running his fingers through it.
Instead, he went through a very verbal paroxysm of guilt about his lover, who was home sick, but then he sent Eddie away to look for their friend José so he could monopolise me. Another dozen times "I love your fuckin' hair!" then he mentions that what his lover actually said was "Don't bring anybody home." Rinse, lather, repeat. José comes by and he's the nelliest twinkie I've seen all night, with flawless apparell and moussed hair like fondant. He pays almost no attention to me, chats a bit with Danny, and then is gone again. Danny's back to playing with my hair. Even though I've explained that I'm not free to play, he tells me "Actually, he does want me to bring somebody home." and tries to get his hands inside my pants. Okay, then, this is where I must be going!
lil_m_moses!Stopping by my apartment, I almost ran into my downstairs neighbour (hereafter "Freakazoid"). What I didn't notice at the time was how trashed he must have been judging by his condition about an hour later. He grabbed me on my way to put in a song request and a realised he could barely stand up. Later, he tracked me back to my table and began hitting on the Odd Portuguese Guy.
Now, let me explain his technique in a little more detail. (I've had to hear about it; why should you be spared?) It basically consists of finding an attractive guy and saying, "Hey, you, let's go fuck." No, seriously; one of his trysts began with depantsing a floormate in the elevator. (The following morning, one of our neighbours joked that I was one of only three guys in the building he hasn't had. Yep--and it's always going to be that way!)
I presume his overtures to OPG consisted of some variation on this. Fortunately, I didn't hear, but I did see Freakazoid basically collapsing on top of him. He did the same thing to me, too, coming over, laying his head on my shoulder, and then holding on for dear life. Can you think of anything more seductive? The odd part was when I apologised to OPG for inflicting Freakazoid on him, he was all smiles. "I like them weird," he said. "I really don't think you like them this weird," I countered, but he said something about they're being "fun to play with".
So I was treated to about another half-hour or so of their demented courtship. Freakazoid was complaining about being tired, so I kept encouraging him to go home. (At one point, he told me, "I'll leave my door open." Y'know--wink wink! Um...thanks?) OPG, on the other hand, kept trying to sit him down and sober him up, like maybe he'd take him up on his offers if he were simply a little less wasted? Before that could happen, though, Freakazoid wandered off.
Then the Latinos arrived.
My friend introduced me to Eddie, a fey middle-aged guy with a moustache, and he introduced us to his old friend Danny, all clean-shaven and muscle-teed and manly. I made small talk with Danny about his condo, which he shares with his lover--who works for the state of Utah. Danny himself lives on the South Side. I asked him the typical South Side question and he named a parish in Pilsen, although then he went into a rant about his agnosticism. He apparently has children, though his exact marital status and such is a mystery to me. In any case, he and his lover are only together on weekends. So, I've heard of stranger arrangements.
Eddie begins making references to his "sister", by which he means his drag persona. The two of them banter a bit about "her". Then he and Danny ask me about my ponytail, prompting me to undo my hair. Danny was, in his own words, "enthralled". If he said it once, he said forty times in that butch voice, "I love your fuckin' hair!" Now, I've had a lot of people admire my hair over the years, but I've never had a reaction like this. I seriously thought he was going to spunk himself just from running his fingers through it.
Instead, he went through a very verbal paroxysm of guilt about his lover, who was home sick, but then he sent Eddie away to look for their friend José so he could monopolise me. Another dozen times "I love your fuckin' hair!" then he mentions that what his lover actually said was "Don't bring anybody home." Rinse, lather, repeat. José comes by and he's the nelliest twinkie I've seen all night, with flawless apparell and moussed hair like fondant. He pays almost no attention to me, chats a bit with Danny, and then is gone again. Danny's back to playing with my hair. Even though I've explained that I'm not free to play, he tells me "Actually, he does want me to bring somebody home." and tries to get his hands inside my pants. Okay, then, this is where I must be going!
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... and it would be the hottest Pantene advertisement EVER. ^o^
and tries to get his hands inside my pants. Okay, then, this is where I must be going!
... erm, as in, "... and the rest is left for the dear reader's imagination," or as in, "... and then I had to leave at that point"?
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