One

B. Brown came to town and with her came a parade of my former blog players.

It’s been roughly five months since B. Brown was last here and it was only appropriate that we go out. Somehow this happened to coincide with a surprise trip from London. You may remember London from such sexual encounters as: Night on his friend’s sofa bed. In case you missed it, London was Wall Street’s friend and I didn’t know he was interested until he was living over seas.

So, we went to Splash. The last time I went to this particular club the bouncer was disinclined to let me in because I wasn’t as tall as my license said. I thought everyone lied on their stats. I mean, I only said I was an inch taller than I really am. It’s an inch. Let me have it! This incident put Splash on my black list; the places I prefer not to go.

The night was going well, for the most part, except for we couldn’t find the Animator. Making our way into the depths of the basement to get a drink and start our search. A little wandering and we ended landed back upstairs. Through the writhing crowd I ran right into London, who was looking incredibly good I must add. My excitement was quickly dashed when I caught sight of London’s friends. 

I can pull off the fake nice thing with the best of them, I did work retail for eight years, but there are just some people that get me in an instant. One of London’s friend’s, who I have had other encounters with while dating Wall Street, was at his side. Though we’ve met a half dozen times he played the “do I know you” card. I told him he knew me and when he put his little hand out, looking as if it were maimed from the limpness, I did by best not to crush it (though I started to).

Once again downstairs, I was making my way to the bathroom when a hand grabbed me. I paid it no mind. Men in bars, especially gay bars, tend to be very grabby. I assumed it was just some old douche. I found out from across the bar ten minutes later that it was London. Considering I’ve had a crush on him since I was dating Wall Street, I felt insane, assuming he probably thinks I am. 

London left later in the evening and mentioned that I had a strong aversion to Wall Street; did I mention he was there too? I actually hadn’t noticed him originally, but I’m pretty sure when I unintentionally ignored London he thought I was doing so because of his sidekick. London went home and I didn’t get to go with him. That is disappointment.

I failed to mention the middle portion of our evening. Not only was Wall Street there, so was the Italian. My friends thought it was incredibly funny to do bunny ears while I was talking to him. My giggly button had already been pushed when a dude dressed as a Greek soldier fell flat on his face. Someone had spilled a drink right before he walked by and boom! Seconds after the Italian faded into the crowd here came the Roman. The Roman is someone that I had a one-night stand with fall of last year. His most memorable moment was walking out of my room in the middle of the night and running into my roomie naked.

Other than the parade of ex bedroom buddies, it was an okay night. I still have two nights to get London home… watch and see.

Lessons in Love

I love movies and the unrealistic world of dreams and possibilities that they present. There’s something intoxicating about letting yourself go in the fantasy, even if only for a few hours.

All of us have had our falls into and back out of love, like, or lust. To some extent we do it because we’ve been preconditioned by society. Sitcoms tell us that we can find someone, fall in love, and get married in thirty minutes. Dramas tell us that we can do all of that and get a divorce in sixty. With my track record I wonder if I’m living in a tragedy. Exactly how much time do I get?

I’ve become a non-believer in love. I got the lessons out of the way early and have reserved myself to the sidelines, rather than diving in and playing the game. Observing is one of my favorite activities, though what I see confirms my own beliefs. I watch friends that treat their boyfriends like trash and manipulate them to ensure they remain in the relationship. I watch marriages that are used out of convenience and the love has all but evaporated. I see the person that stays for the children and wastes away. If these are the things that represent love then I am sure that I’ve made the right choice.

Once in a blue moon I feel as though my mind may change. When a stranger pays a small compliment, and I realize that maybe everyone isn’t as awful as I think. For example, a guy working at Starbucks tonight was giving me eyes and told me he “really likes when people come in with that color of hair.” I had to refrain from laughing, but it was cute… and probably the most honest thing I’ve heard in a long time. 

Then there was the guy on the bus. A three-hour trip and he managed to sit only a few seats away. We played the flirty eyes game for a while, and he even managed to talk to me for a moment.  One problem for me here is that I have perfected the art of being cold. When I’m with friends, I love to chat and make myself a part of the group. When I’m one-on-one with a person that is potentially interested in me, I shut down. A defense mechanism that I’ve used for a long time, not that it does me much good. I had convinced myself to give the bus guy my number once I saw my stop approaching. I went so far so to write it down when I was gathering my belongings. He looked back and smiled as I was getting out of my seat, but then I caught up to myself and put the paper back in my pocket.

There is a little bit of regret in the forefront of my mind as I write this. I should have given the guy my number and at least given him the chance to confirm or refute my assumptions, but I didn’t. My defense of being frigid has literally consumed me at this point. I’ve made the mistakes, with all the wrongs guys, and it just didn’t seem worth it. Would he turn out to be nice? Perhaps. Would he be another Devil, Trainer, Dollar? Maybe.

So, I reserve myself to enjoy the fantasy of the movies. The only place where I can see love as being possible.