Tuesday, June 28, 2005

Friday night, and despite having been out every night for the past 10 or 12 days in a row, and despite not having my usual Friday night going-to-the-Eagle buddy with me, of course I pulled on the cockrings and jockstrap and jeans, and rode up. Not as crowded as I had expected, but plenty to look at, and I ran into a barbuddy/ex-trick. We talked for awhile, parted ways to peruse in our own directions, and bumped into each other again up on the roof where we hung out for awhile yapping. Then, the familiar sounds, and inner tinglings of something from the past caught my attention. Naw, I thought, he's not playing.... must just be a sample of, naw.... OMG! It's the theme song from my favorite porno movie, HEATSTROKE!! Man Parrish's amazing tune, blasting from the speakers at the Eagle! I don't think I've ever actually heard the song in a club, just at home, watching the video, or an mp3 on the computer, and of course, years ago, from the big screen, watching the film itself dozens of times during the 80's at porno theatres. By now I had 2, maybe 3 beers in me, the crowd was thickening, and the music just put the hugest smile on my face, and I declared something really horribly silly like "Gay Pride Weekend can't possibly get any better!"

I had already decided earlier in the week to try my best to hang out with friends, and had a party here, going to CBGB's another night, and Sunday brunch with a great couple. No more of this "take it as it comes, leave your options open" crap that didn't work so well the past couple of years. (Ok, maybe it was just fine, but I felt I wanted to focus on friends, and not the elusive future boyfriend search) So by this time, I had babbled on and on about the song, and the movie it came from that my pal forgot what he was talking about, and we returned to the usual mindless "who's hot here" discussion. I had already spotted the man I saw (made out with) last Friday here, but he didn't seem to notice me. I mention this to my buddy, telling him that it seemed like the guy saw me, but turned away, and wouldn't turn his head back. Even when I walked into the bathroom, spotting him at the urinal, he walked past me without a hint of recognition or interest. My pal said it sucked, the guy's a jerk, etc etc.... Silly me, wanting to think of alternative theories - he didn't see me, he left his glasses at home, he's shy, he already spotted someone else, etc., etc. The song is nearing it's end, the next song is being mixed in, and I'm thinking WWRLD? (What Would Richard Locke Do?) Certainly it wouldn't be nothing! So I turned to my buddy and said "I'm going back downstairs, and I'm gonna make that man uncomfortable!" (yes, i was getting drunk)

I got downstairs, took me a few minutes to spot the man again, he looked just so adorable, my thinking about him all week was not just out of some drunken lust from unfinished business, but his face was just so sweet, and I see him kinda glancing in my direction, as he's slowing down on the opposite side of the pool table from me. I stop, lean, drool (internally, of course), and try to be casual about my interest. He walks over to a bench, sits down where there is room for one more....

"Hey, hi, we met last week, I think your name is...." He smiles back, somewhat sheepishly, but totally adorably: "yeah, you're right, but, um, I don't remember yours." And my right thigh is pressed against his left thigh, and we begin talking about music, and he's making me laugh, and I can't help but rub my hand on his adorable head, and he really likes it, and i go to kiss it, then down to his ear and begin to nibble and he says: "Oh, right, you like to bite, I remember that part clearly!" and we both laugh, and kiss, and just lean into each other a bit harder, and a bit softer, if that makes any sense.

.... several hours later (12, 14?), in a diner in Chelsea, he's talking about something, and as he's talking I get... oh jeez. Let's just say I was more than just attracted to him, but wanted to know more, and taste more, and.... we both had plans Saturday night, but I called him and left a message when I got home, he called back, and he accepted my invite to join my buddies for brunch the next morning, and join us for The Parade. I can't remember being happier, except, of course, the next day, late morning, when I rang his doorbell and he came out, and somehow managed to look even handsomer than my crazy imagination was able to remember, and we had our first of many kisses, and my hand clutched his head for the first of many head rubs of the day.