the last time I got "some"
Setting the way back machine to a time when Clay, Mark Lewis and Leah made an expedition to Manray. I remember being dressed in shorts made from cut off fatigues, some t-shirt that made me feel “cool”, and my leather jacket and self-consciously I felt my haircut was a bad one. It was a well-attended night, there were many folks blocking my way to alcohol as I recall. When I sidled up to the bar for a horrendous wait for the undoubtedly weak drink in a tiny glass, men who enjoy the company of men surrounded me to which I made note as I got the wink and a smile.
Upon my return with drink in hand to my fellow revelers to find them in much mirth; sensing that the joke was on me, I inquired as to what made them so gleeful. The simplified reply was that as I stood at the bar with my back to them I looked like a “Pudgy lil dyke surrounded by the gay men.”
I too had to laugh at this as well, as a little part of my soul died.
Move to a more recent past, I was standing at a bar in Sacramento, minding my own business, when next to me a handsome young lass pulls up next to me and we engage in some conversation that strangers have as we meet for the first time. My initial evaluation being that she was not into the “men” and she preferred unpacking the boxes of women, just as I do.
Well I said something right; as she chose to leave my company she planted a rather sweet kiss on my lips. Stunned I watched her walk away never to be seen again. I always wondered why this occurred. Now with my memory of long ago and this one juxtaposed in my mind, I see: Perhaps I was mistaken as a pudgy lil dyke in need of a confidence boost. It explains much.
With my 37th birthday on the horizon and 5 years without a decent relationship under my belt, I look forward to entering mid-life crisis-ville.
Things have to get better? (note to self, this is year 7 of you saying this.)
Upon my return with drink in hand to my fellow revelers to find them in much mirth; sensing that the joke was on me, I inquired as to what made them so gleeful. The simplified reply was that as I stood at the bar with my back to them I looked like a “Pudgy lil dyke surrounded by the gay men.”
I too had to laugh at this as well, as a little part of my soul died.
Move to a more recent past, I was standing at a bar in Sacramento, minding my own business, when next to me a handsome young lass pulls up next to me and we engage in some conversation that strangers have as we meet for the first time. My initial evaluation being that she was not into the “men” and she preferred unpacking the boxes of women, just as I do.
Well I said something right; as she chose to leave my company she planted a rather sweet kiss on my lips. Stunned I watched her walk away never to be seen again. I always wondered why this occurred. Now with my memory of long ago and this one juxtaposed in my mind, I see: Perhaps I was mistaken as a pudgy lil dyke in need of a confidence boost. It explains much.
With my 37th birthday on the horizon and 5 years without a decent relationship under my belt, I look forward to entering mid-life crisis-ville.
Things have to get better? (note to self, this is year 7 of you saying this.)