so where was I, anyway?
While instant messaging with a friend, complaining about my 41 days without sex, he asked "why so long?" Of course, I had to give the smart-ass, self=depricating answer:
and I keep forgetting to bathe for days on end
So, he laughed, and argued 2 of those points, as any good friend should, and told me I just needed to feel sexier, so wear something that makes me feel sexy, and get going. So, I grabbed my current fave leather wrap around cock/ball divider cockring, grabbed that vintage (allegedly Army-issue) all-cotton jockstrap I got in a trade for some porno videos, and your standard button-fly jeans, boots, hooded sweatshirt and leather jacket.
Getting to The Phoenix by around 12:15, the bartender knew my drink (sounds better than you think, they just know I'll drink the lowest priced inebriant of the day), and settled in away from the one, or is that two, people I'd rather not talk to (one a friend of a friend, another, a boy I've "been with" twice, most recently while his BF was out of town, who is now huddled with him drinking and smooching). Music wasn't bad, but I had that "everyone is talking to someone but me" feeling, and focused my attention of the bartender's dog. After a few songs, including 2 R.E.M.'s that would normally make me sad thinking about a certain Ex, I figured it was time to check The Cock. Doorlady gives me all the air kisses and happy new year's she gives everyone, and I gave her my 3 bucks. Inside, ugh. Music was sorta popish, (I swear they played Partirdge Family, and sorry, it just ISN't ironic enough) and there were only about 15 people there, at 1 a.m. Took the bartender forever to see me, and I slurped on the Rolling Rock for awhile, surveying the place. One very cute boy, but he kept tugging at his clothes so much that I stopped thinking about his butt on my face, and just figured he had way too many issues for some fast, sloppy sex; soon another nice looking guy, closer to my age, came in. I immediately noticed his shiny shirt, which would normally be a turn-off, (it was vinyl!) but the rest of the outfit was leather, and it just said SEX. Plain and simple, SEX. Trying to catch his eye, he looked over, walked right past me, and hugged one of the notorious drug-dealers. Oh well. And I knew that this place would fill up after 2:30, but it would be all people coming from other bars, snorting and sniffing whatever, and it's just not my thing. Went back to The Phoenix, got another $1.00 draft, slushed it down, again saw no-one, and decided I'd try The Bar, and The Boiler Room before "resorting" to Bijou 82 (or whatever that sex-club without sex-movies but with sex-booths is called these days).
The Boiler Room had all of 6 people in it, I stayed long enough to warm my hands. The Bar had more people in it, but all of them rather scarey-looking. Why bother with more beer, go pay your 10 bucks at roam the corridors of the Bijou already, right? Of course, the guy taking my money was real cute, which is always a bad sign, since it'll be harder to pick someone else (um, like I always get to pick who I want!! hehe). But once inside, while they are still playing annoying HBO or Showtime, as opposed to some trashy porn flick, I did noticed that there were alot more booths! I mean, twice as many as the last time I was here (on a Monday, and I had to wait until 5 a.m. to get a booth!) Tonight would be no waiting, if, in fact, I clicked with someone.
(note to self: finish later and remember - beercan thick, sweat dripping off my face, lubricating my cock, don't say the P---y word if you want me to continue; boy that mustache tickles........just right, right there, yeah, right there)