"Almost like old times."

"It was good to see you out last night. Almost like old times" her text said.

If by "almost like old times" she meant me spending $20 in one dollar bills on tipping drag queens and eyeing the shirtless guys like hunks of meat in front of a wolf, then yes, almost like old times.

And I'd had that same thought as the night went on.

It was a birthday party for a friend, a beautiful young lady who has matured quite nicely from a skinny, irreverent, wild, unsettled child-woman into a curvacious, irreverent, wild, one-woman-woman. The past few years have been good to her, filling out both her body and her relationship, but unable to take the "it's my birthday, let's party" attitude away.

They chose a fairly new gay nightclub in town to which I had not been before. MyFella and I discussed it, as we had planned on having Jamie with us, and decided that since the couple came to my big 40th 2 years ago, one of us should go to hers. Or as he put it the next morning, "I said 'One of us' and you certainly volunteered."

Why, yes. Yes, I did.

I put on clothes that I thought made me look good. I was pleased when the cashier gave me back ones to use. And I marveled at my good luck to being going on a night for not just a drag show, but a pageant. A true pageant on the gay pageant circuit. Beautiful drag queens from all over the South, as far away as Dallas. And that's a fair drive from here. Heck, as big as Texas is, that's a fair drive from anywhere.

Drag queens in costume changes, or rip-off skirts revealing under-skirts that completely change the look of the costume, big wigs, short wigs, colored wigs. One drag queen sang live, not just lip syncing, very well from Indi Arie.

And then here was the birthday party complete with body shots and dirty dancing. And at least one shirtless (not as cute as he thought he was, but cute just the same) guy in the crowd.

Yes, it was a fantastic two hours. I admit it. I love a gay bar. I love a gay environment and a gay atmosphere. I love gay guys and gay girls and dance music and mixed drinks and drag queens.

And I love friends hosting birthday parties. I just wonder if I have to worry about any of me showing up on Facebook later today.

Demons Run

"Demons run when a good man goes to war.
Night will fall and drown the sun when a good man goes to war.
Friendship dies and true love lies,night will fall and the dark will rise
when a good man goes to war.

Demons run but count the cost.
The battle's won but the child is lost."


~ River Song

Gay Again, Gay Again. . .

Last night I went out to meet a friend for dinner. Near leaving, he asked if I would mind meeting two of his friends at a trendy little place I hadn't been to in years. It seemed like a good idea to me, and since he and I aren't especially close, I thought meeting his friends would definitely help with the conversation flow, plus give me a little insight into him.

The whole evening, the entire experience, turned into the funnest little mind-cation for me. An hour and a half of the experiences of the more carefree gays with foppish talk and cold drinks in pretty colors with the taste of vodka.

I told myself in my head, "Enjoy this." It was just a little bit of time, with talk and pictures of ex's and ex's currents, and words like "drama" and "tragic" and "girl." Funny how the passage of time hasn't changed the vocabulary of younger gays on a night out.

My cosmopolitans were over priced. My food was delicious. The two guys I met were darling. And my friend, . . . turns out he's a real person with real life stuff going on.

Now, for the next time out, I just need to find my "dressy" flip flops.

The Hitchhiker

So today on my lunch break, I picked up a hitch hiker.

I had taken my lunch to work, but didn't have any utensils with which to eat it, and was getting too hungry. Decided to just go ahead and go buy some fast food instead of microwaving a frozen meal without utensils.

I'm not a half a mile down the road when I come up on this guy walking down the road with a backpack and a rolling duffel bag. It seemed odd, out of place, on this stretch of road that's really sort of an industrial park. And honestly, yes, he was cute. Looked to be about 21, and he looked clean. And I just couldn't imagine why a guy was walking on that stretch of road with a backpack and a rolling duffel bag. He looked like he was struggling with it all.

So I turned around and rolled down my window, "Where are you going?" He said, "The interstate." The interstate is probably not 100 feet from the fast food place to which I was headed, so I told him to get in.

And on the way I asked him where he was headed and he said, "To the Rocky Mountains." So he really was hitch hiking. I asked where he was coming from and he said - - - - - - get this now - - - - - - the town we were in!

So I picked up a hitch hiker who was still in his hometown.

I asked him what kind of people usually pick up hitch hikers (except for guys in four door red Sedans) and he said, "They say people who hitch hiked in their past and truckers."

Then he said it was his first time to hitchhike.

So do you get what I'm telling you? This kid was on his very first hitchhike across country to the Rocky Mountains. And I was the first guy to pick him up, while he was still in his hometown.

So I took him to the interstate and he got out and I wished him luck. I hope his early start on getting picked up is a good omen for the rest of his trip.