"He was offered a birthday fisting, and it's not even his birthday!"
It seems like ages since there's been an OUT event, although really it's only been a couple of weeks since bowling. It's three weeks since the last coffee posse though, and I guess that's a slightly different crowd. Today was Wimbledon, and as usual I met Dave C on the train there. He's been a bit down 'cause he's been ill again, and now it turns out his cat's got kidney and liver failure. We later found out that Rich's cat's got cancer, so it seems pussies all over London are riddled with disease at the moment.
Sad news aside this was a really fun afternoon, although bloody hell it got smutty. For the last few months, ever since he found out the Sign Language for "fisting," Rich has been slightly obsessed with it, and will sign it with a big grin on his face at the slightest excuse. We've decided the only way to get the fixation cured is for someone to do it to him - that'd wipe the smile off his face anyway. One person who shall remain nameless is not backward about coming forwards, and was happy to provide information on the subject. Crisco got mentioned quite often, as did the fact that NB Alex has small hands, which would make him quite popular in certain circles (but then my hands aren't much bigger, and I have shorter fingernails, which apparently means I might beat him on that score. If I was interested. Which, for the record, I'm not.) Jim summed up everyone's fetishes: "He wants to be spanked, he wants to be fisted, and he wants to knit socks." Yes, the last one was Dave C, how did you guess?
We later repaired to the pub as usual (I was on the mineral water - still staying teetotal and not regretting it.) David B who doesn't often show up was there, and we had a bit of a chat about this blog - he hasn't read it, but he was interested in how come I've ended up writing it when I never wrote a diary before this (quite frankly, I'm enough of a drama queen to like an audience) and what sort of thing I wrote about. David C said I just post pictures of hot men. David, you know perfectly well that's not true! I also spend a considerable amount of time making fun of you on here. I also chatted to Ben for a while, which was nice - I've known Ben from these events for ages but never really talked to him much before, but we had a decent chat - we talked about how everyone was just talking smut all afternoon. Ben had noticed it as well, and this was the first time today we'd spoken, so it definitely wasn't all my fault, so there.
We then changed pubs because we wanted food. It's Dave's birthday tomorrow - he was a bit miffed that OUT sent out a reminder to everyone on his friends list, 'cause he was trying to keep it quiet. So now I've told everyone reading this as well. He'll be 32. That's THIRTY-TWO. He mentioned that someone had offered him a birthday snog on three separate occasions, which he'd politely turned down. That's nothing - after the earlier conversation, Rich had been offered a birthday fisting, and it's not even his birthday. I had nachos when we got to the pub - mainly 'cause they were one of the cheaper things on the menu, but they were pretty good. Funnily enough the conversation continued to be fairly dirty there as well. It was obviously a theme. There were some children at the next table but frankly if people bring kids to the pub it's their own bloody fault if they overhear some homosexualists talking about cocks.
Dave and I made our way back - we were on course to just about catch our connecting train, until the one from Wimbledon sat outside Waterloo for five minutes, making us have to wait half an hour for the next one. So we killed some time looking at the magazines in WH Smith. An F1 magazine had Kimi Raikkonnen on the cover, who I said I quite fancy - although in fairness that might just be because he reminds me of a hot Finnish male nurse who looked after me in hospital once. Florence Nightingale syndrome and all that.
I'm probably going to see Dave again in the morning, we're going to cycle around the bike paths near the O2. Er, and that's it. Oh, at one point I called Dave "Doris" to see if he'd respond. He did.