"no, no, you have to go to Chelsea to find the good looking guys"
after 5 minutes of talking to me about me living on the Lower East Side, the Frenchman must've known I was poor, and couldn't afford to toss this 5 dollar beer in his face.......plus, I have this amazing ability to do song-association while walking away from idiots...
Oh no it does not move me
Even though I've seen the movie
I don't want to check your pulse
I don't want nobody else
I don't want to go to Chelsea
but last night, at The Cock, listening to god-awful shrill disco-without-bass (how'd they do that??), I started to get philosophical about my desire to have a sleep-over. For months I've be bemoaning the fact that I havn't spent a whole night, including sleeping, with a guy. Sex, yes; good sex, yes, several times since Jan 1; but not the elusive "what do you take in your coffee" as you kiss his neck and go into the kitchen with the warm sun streaming thru the windows scene. I started to realize that maybe i give off this "it better be really good" vibe to potential suitors, since, of course, I've built up the sleep-over into having major MEANING. And maybe that's silly, but I can't do the still-drunk pretend to want his phone number while pushing him out the door early morning thing like I did 5, 10, 20 years ago. It wasn't pretty then, it sure ain't pretty now. And some guy from the past was chatting me up, and we discussed monogamy, group sex, "open relationships", and all that...... and I realized, even if I can get past the "its just tonight, and then we have the awkward bumping into each other later" thing, I remember he has sand-paper tongue. Great body, biggus dickus, but sandpaper tongue. And from what I remember, he's very very oral, and I wince. I do the super-wince when the tongue don't feel right, so, the conversation started to wind down, neither of us having much to say, and I knew it was up to me, and it would be more beer, and ugh, why bother....
yup, the summer does afford me the luxury of just leaving, and going for a meandering ride at 2 or 3 am. Not much traffic, I only had one beer, so I was comfortable, driving real slow, and as I got to 4th st and 2nd ave, noticed a lot of activity on the The Bar, The Boiler Room, The Bijou corner. So, I parked the bike, went into The Boiler Room, and stood near the door deciding. Jukebox playing something vaguely annoying...... hmmm. But this guy, behind me, is looking, so I figure I'd give it another song to decide.
He believes in beauty
He's Venus as a boy
not loud enough, but still, a smile found its way to my stern face, and my body found its way to the bar, where the all-too-cheerful bartender gave me 3 or 4 choices of how I could have my Bud Lite. I went for the $1.00 special, of course, which was served in a 3 oz kiddie mug. Making my way over to an empty couch, I plopped, and enjoyed the rest of the song, which then switched to Human Behaviour. What more could i ask for?
i only hoped that the Radical Faerie who plopped himself down next to me, grinning, was paying attention to the lyrics - they were definately written for me
There's no map
To human behaviour
They're terribly moody
Then all of a sudden turn happy
But, oh, to get involved in the exchange
Of human emotions is ever so satisfying
There's no map
And a compass
Wouldn't help at all