trendymatt's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- You can find me in da club Alright, so the first of my misadventures from my diary hiatus... The hag's birthday was celebrated in June with a trip to one of our fair city's clubs that cater to the homosexual clientele. Picture, if you will, The Hag, The Hag's fuck buddy (I have never met a manlier man, other than the whole fascination with anal sex), and myself (more of a middle-of-the-road, "I like to both decorate and work with power tools" homosexual) thrust into a meat market replete with cheap drinks and drag queens. Now that I have the scene set... An evening of Jack and Cokes and various jello shots made me more than ready to get on the dance floor. So, I ventured out alone while The Hag and Fuck Buddy sat at a table and apparently planned the "sex in the alley" shenanigans that were to commence later. *ahem* So, here I am on the dance floor in a very, very inebriated state shakin' my ever-lovin' groove thang like nobody's business. A guy catches my eye a few feet away, and we make contact on the floor, apparently doing things that would make the photographers of National Geographic take notice. The Hag and Fuck Buddy maneuvered through the crowd just long enough to yell in my ear that they were ditching me, obviously to go have sex in the alley. *ahem* I continue grinding to my heart's content with the random boy. Eventually, we make our way to the back room for a ravenous spit-swapping session. This was all well and good to me, and I was more than happy to leave having had that experience. Why, oh, why did I give the guy my home phone number?? Picture it, the day after, around 2:00 in the afternoon (yes, I was still sleeping). The phone rings. It's random forbidden dance and makeout guy. Rather than detail the entire conversation, I will highlight the more pertinent personal tidbits he shared over the course of 45 minutes:
You have never seen somebody reach for the "off" button on the cordless phone more quickly than I did at that moment. Not to say I have anything against anybody of the drag queen persuasion, mind you. I enjoy the whole mystique of the drag queen persona and could probably become friends with one if the situation presented itself. I just don't want my boyfriend to spend more on clothing than I do. Oh, and I want him to look like a guy. And not to mention, I am the last person who could be considered anybody's sugar daddy. Just ask the fine folks at Discover. One moment of weakness in which I drunkedly wrote down my phone number consequently resulted in two weeks of screening my calls. Thank god for my answering machine. 2:43 pm - 07.24.03 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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