Phew. All of that being said, let me recap my evening for you.
After manicures with the Mexican, we went downtown to this shitty bar named "Nowhere". That's right. We went NOWHERE. The bartender was a sweetie though, and it was a gay bar, so who was I to complain really? I was just there to kill time with the Mexican before his other friends got there and I could make my way to Honey.
|Writings on the wall of the restroom at Nowhere Bar.|
We got pretty schnocked within the first 30 minutes. It was glorious. I was starving. I couldn't even finish my last drink. I missed the bus by 10 seconds and ended up walking from 1st to 8th Avenue. For those of you who don't know, avenues in NYC are long. There is a drastic different between "blocks" and "avenues". 10 blocks is not a lot. 10 avenues makes my shin splints ache just thinking about it.
I was moving quickly though, because I was drunk...and even if I wasn't ACTUALLY moving quickly, it felt that way. I wanted a taco. Badly.
The taco truck took 20 minutes. I almost
I met up with Feathers and Heels at Honey. I have pictures. I also forgot my camera at home, so they mean nothing to you right now. This crazy guy who semi stalks all of us sometimes was going to by me a drink, but D was refusing to serve him because he's a little nutty. I eventually walked away. The drink was not worth it.
The rest of the night was pretty standard, no weird run ins with Abdul at the bathroom...although he propositioned me again. I insulted his stamina though. He might not be so happy about that. Oh and I saw the boy that I desperately have a crush on, who is 20 years old and I gave at least three drinks to. He is looking even better than usual these days. Goddamn cradle robbing.
I pretty much RAN to the train station at a quarter to 12 because at 12am my train was going to start running in sections, and we all know how much that makes me hate my life.
Guess which classy lady made it to the last Q train going all the way to Coney Island? YUP! I made it, guys. It was glorious. I was on cloud nine. It was fluffy.
When I got to my block I met up with this guy who I've had terrible sex with before. Yes, terrible in that it was boring. I told him this. Like every man in history, he needed to protect his pride/ego/penis and wanted to prove to me that he could rock my world. So we've been talking again lately, because I've been drinking a lot, and I like my world to rock - I don't get motion sickness.
He wanted to cuddle last night though. That was fine with me.
Here's what actually went down though...wait for it...wait for it...
We talked about sports for a little while, whilst watching ESPN. This is typical. Then it came time to cuddle.
He didn't want to cuddle me, he wanted to be cuddled by me.
I was flabberghasted. I made sure I heard him right.
"You want me to be the big spoon?"
"So what you're saying is YOU want to be LITTLE spoon?"
He took off his shirt and pants and we went to bed.
I tried. I tried to cuddle him once, but my heart got all racey because it was such an awkward situation and I was dehydrated and any kind of movement was requiring a lot of energy. Ten seconds in, I bailed. I scooted away. Caught my breath and drank some water.
Thank god he's a silent sleeper, or I would've killed myself/him.
I don't know why he didn't leave. We didn't make eye contact in the morning. I don't know if he was kidding when he said "thanks for the cuddle, I needed that." I think he might just be crazy.
I can't handle it.
I WILL NEVER BE BIG SPOON. GET THAT STRAIGHT. (He might not be...that's the problem.)
Addendum - Never say never. Basically if we've been in a relationship for a while and you need a snuggle, I get it. It won't be for very long, but it could happen. However, if we are hardly even booty calls, do not under any circumstances expect anything but a fork...and I will not be the fork either.