I've had years go by when the Folsom Street Fair
happened outside the apartment and I've just shut the windows to block out the noise. I'm not embarrassed to say that I was more interested in playing video games than seeing a parade of semi- (or completely) naked people outside my door.
This year, though, I went out to see things. The Boyfriend decided to stay at his place and Edith was already out working, so I wandered around by myself, and had a good time.
I got home and pounded a double espresso at 3, and by 3:30 I was showered—and shaking. I'm beginning to see that I can't drink coffee like I used to. So I went out and got a cocktail in the street, which calmed the jitters. I wore my top hat and "Click Here" t-shirt, but it took a good hour or so of me walking around before someone came up and "clicked" on my chest. Did it take me that long to look approachable? Or was it the second rum and Coke?
Rum and Cokes remind me of being 22. They remind me of a guy I dated that Christmas holiday (nicknamed The Hunter for one of his hobbies—obviously we were not meant to be together.) When "Don't Leave Me This Way" came on while I had a drink in one hand, I had a serious flashback to Santa Barbara and The Pub, a sad bar that is now called Hades. (Is it still sad? I haven't been back.)
I ran into an old friend, who I haven't seen for over a year. Sometimes I realize that I'm not progressing as well as I think at breaking out of my hermitage. I'm doing better at meeting new people; but I need to keep in better contact with the friends I've made. (Silver and gold, or something like that. I'm reminded of another old acquaintance whom I saw at the Art Opening Friday. He said I hadn't changed since he saw me last, many years ago. I smiled at that, but wondered if I felt that was true on the inside too. I fled that night without saying goodbye, though I tried; there were too many people there at once for me. He knows Victor; maybe I'll have him pass along the message.)
For some reason I was a lot less introverted than usual. I shook hands with porn stars; I complimented people who wore good costumes. I talked for a while with a photographer on the advantages and drawbacks, artistically and conceptually, of spy cameras; I was amazed when he talked a handsome straight couple into stopping and posing for shots—particularly when the boy stripped his shirt from his toned body, exposing a lot of really nice skin. [Did I really try on that piece of *ahem* jewelry with the stall-keeper watching? I mean, I understand the need for inventory control, but still.... At least he was kind enough to hold my coat (and nothing more.)]
While I'm a pretty shy person, once I get started socializing (and particularly after a few rum and cokes) I do tend to keep going. So getting in the back of a truck with some Sisters, going for dinner in the Castro afterwards and then knocking back a few more rum and Cokes seemed like the best way to cap off the night. (Well, I ended up vacuuming glitter out of the carpet after that, but that chore had to happen sooner or later anyway.) So maybe I was late to work this morning, but I think it was worth it.