|Hot Wet American Summer, pt. 2
||[Jul. 8., 2019|02:34 pm]
So it's not often you'll hear me complain about not having enough bad weather, but I was really hoping for more rain this past weekend. Not only would it have spared me having to water several times but it also would have made it easier to stay in and do the laundry. As it was, I found myself last night trying to split my time between the downstairs, the front lawn, and the back porch and was a bit hectic.
I also screwed myself by, once abed, making the mistake of calling a potential trick. It was his idea; he asked me to talk him through while he wanked. But it ended up being an awkward mix of sexual fantasy and interview for a job I wasn't particularly interested in. Then I compounded the mistake by reaching out to Pepperoni right afterwards to talk through my discomfort only to have him tell me rather bluntly that he didn't want to hear it.
His attempts to backpedal only made things worse, since after four attempts on my part to end the conversation he still felt the need for a shitty parting shot. I'm still not sure what set him off and while I appreciate his need to set limits I'm disappointed to find out that someone I thought I could talk to about anything isn't. I'm torn on whether I should tell him this which probably means I should just shut my trap and deal with it if it comes up.
But enough dwelling on the negatives, since it was a very good weekend overall. In fact, if it had gone a bit less well, Sunday might not have been so stressful since one of the positives kept me up until the wee hours. I'm talking about the guy I took home from Bear Night.
In an odd bit of synchronicity, I'd been thinking of him earlier in the week. I say "odd" because nothing specific reminded me of his existence, just the vague realisation that I'd been so happy to finally meet him months ago and then we hadn't interacted since. I'd barely made it to the bar when I ran into him. "I knew the moment you said 'hi' to me," he told me afterwards, "that I was going to have sex with you."
Still, I had people to greet, so I did that perfunctorily and then dragged him back to my place. He was very sweet and the whole experience was very balanced: vigorous without being too athletic (I thought I'd be much more sore the next day than I was), chatty without being to talky, tender without being falsely sentimental--you get the idea. We both agreed it was something we'd like to do again sometime.
Before that it had been a great cocktail night. I was worried I'd have too many guests but somehow it was just the right number again. Several people cancelled, but one of the visitors brought a friend and then summoned two others (any one of which I would've been happy to show a good time). I probably had one gin too many but it ended up not really mattering.