it can not possibly be after 1pm, and I'm on my first cup of coffee! Jeez, didn't even go out after work, just came home flipped thru TV channels, surfed around the web, did some porn (I mean watch, of course), and then sleep. With, of course, the too-often interruption late in the night/early in the morning of the attack of the mosquitoes. Why do they go for fingers and toes, I'll never figure out. Half a gallon of witch hazel later, I was able to get back to sleep. Exciting, eh?
My Saturday night date was even better than hoped for, for no particular reason besides the wonderfulness of spending more time, and getting to know better, this hot sweet man. Didn't hurt that the "festivities" began Friday night when he popped into the Eagle (I had mentioned it a couple of times, both as an invite to join me and a buddy for our usual night out, and as a warning - if I'm there 'single' the north urinals are spoken for), silly and adorable as ever. Not much sleep, I managed to get to work on time. Then we had dinner Saturday night, walking around both the West Village and Chelsea looking at building afterwards, arms sometimes entwined, hips often touching, and the little kisses on the back of the neck that we both seem to enjoy getting and giving. A tad more sleep Saturday night before work again Sunday, but not before he quickly accepted my invite to go to SPERM.
The club was packed, the show later than expected (jeez, almost 2:30 before The Ones performed - but well worth the wait!), and my date sillier and more fun than ever. Of course, walking up to the place, and Mr. Parrish himself escorting us in past the doormen was way cool (except, of course, the part where he loudly proclaimed "No need to I.D. these old farts!") Of course, I don't dance, but was forced into some silly, sometimes slutty, movements as we dranks our beers and enjoyed the incredibly loud sounds (thinking he was about to blow me when he yanked open my shorts only to spit cold beer onto my cock was a bit disappointing, until i made him go back down and not waste a drop of the beer) on the dancefloor.
Sometime late Monday afternoon, silliness turned to a semi-serious discussion of dating, past boyfriends, expectations, etc. Nothing specific about "us" but more each saying where i've been and what i like / don't like / hope for. It was good, but somehow, once I got to work, I got rather sad. And the feeling didn't really make sense, except if you know me real well, and fortunately I do think I know myself pretty good, so I was OK with being sad (sad isn't the right word, but it'll do). Just a processing moment - the more I get to know this guy, the more I like him, and the idea of "us" - so the inevitable thoughts of what if this ended? come floating thru and in and around my brain. Work got busy, hectic, as people who'd been drinking beer all day to celebrate FREEDOM decided they needed burritos with all sorts of complicated and barely articulateable add-ons and substitutions. Things were momentarily quiet when the phone rang again, I did my happy perky "Hello B----'s, May I Help You?", and then I hear a (familiar) male voice say 4 simple words: "I WANT A COOKIE" and the voice, and the 4 words, brought me back to here, my apartment the previous night when I was playing songs for him, and the one that really grabbed him, so I'm immediately laughing hysterically as he apologizes for disturbing me at work, but just had to tell me how cool the song is (I emailed it to him before we said goodbye on the way to work), and that he shared it with a good buddy, who also loved it and had to have it......
and then, I'm smiling, and glad I got the little obsessive worry thing out of the way, and his brief but wonderful phone call let me enjoy the rest of the night, even getting a chance to stand out on Avenue A to watch fireworks thru the trees of Thompkins square Park, remembering only 8 nights ago, standing on the West Side Highway, his warm embrace, and our WOO-HOO's during the previous fireworks display.
sigh.
Here's the first track from Bjork's new release, 
And then there's the Webcam page, with the drawing of the "hot" tattooed guys, careful not to get in the way of the product placement for the MAC computer. And from the illustration in the chapter on Sadomasochism, I learned that S & M tops always wear harnesses that accommodate their cell phones. Learning is fun.
i dunnowhy, but last night, saying goodnight to my TV buddies, settling in sometime after midnight, at this desk, on the computer, I had to hear that Pet Shop Boys song. I'm sure bazillions of gay men have specific memories of the song - events, summers, people they associate the song with. Oddly enough, this song and the person it makes me think of aren't even in the same story, but the song makes me think of him, nonetheless. It's one of those "he loved this group, I've grown to love this song by that group" kinda association. 
Haven't been to "New" Cock yet, but 
