I was excited when Jeff and David invited me to join them in Paris. I had been to Paris before but never for Gay Pride. Since the last time I was in Paris, they no longer smoke indoors, but they are allowed to smoke at the sidewalk cafes. People also seem friendlier. But that could be because we were staying in the Marias district. This is the gay neighborhood, and it's my experience that the gay hood is more friendly everywhere.
My French sucks, besides yes, no, please and thank you. I discovered that if you say Lemon Shoes, you will get another round of drinks.
Besides Pride, it was also World Cup. The French had already been eliminated but it did not lesson the importance of the event. In America, we really don't understand. It's like playing 2 or 3 Super Bowls everyday for a month. The French President had just called for a special commission to investigate why the French team did so poorly. Everyone was watching, talking or arguing about the games. Outside the Eiffel Tower they had erected a huge TV screen to watch the games. I can't believe how many flags we saw the day we went to the Tower.
On Pride day, Jeff, David and I walked towards the Bastille. The parade was going thru the streets and ending up in this huge square called the Bastille. This is where Marie Anntoinette lost her head. We got there early enough to actually get a seat at a sidewalk cafe. So we sat there watching the parade while drinking wine.
The parade was huge, but there were no floats and no beads. Just these big trucks, bigger than pickups, but not as big as semi's. The trucks were loaded with hot boys. But they were fully clothed. Very few had there shirts off even though it was in the high 80's. The parade was similar to parades you hear about in New Orleans. When you are along the parade route watching, at any time you can simply join the parade. So eventually everyone is in the parade and end up in the Bastille. They estimated that there were 700,000 people at the parade.
After the parade we were talking about what we wanted to do. Jeff mentioned that there was a bar where go go boys took showers above the bar. That sounded interesting but I was more in the mood to participate rather than watch.
David and I decided to go to a bar we found in the gay guide. Here I was in Paris - going out and being nasty and wild. The adreneline was running.
We paid out 20 Euros (including a drink), to get into Le Depot. Le Depot is right next door to the Police Station. We walked in and couldn't see anything. It was pitch black. We both had to pee so we found the bathroom and there's one guy ahead of us in line. The whole bar smells like baking crystal (I'm taking David's word on this), pot (which I do know), urine and sweat.
When the guy comes out it's our turn. David tells me we are going together and not splitting up. We pee and then stand at the sink. Someone did something nasty in the sink. I tell David "Don't touch anything, our dicks are the cleanest thing in the entire bar".
We walk out and try to find the bar. We run into two hot guys with no shirts, but with snakes wrapped around their bodies. The snakes are alive. We immediately turn down a hall to stay away from the snakes, where we run into a naked guy handcuffed on his knees. We move past him and finally enter the bar. We order our drinks, but decide we really want to leave. We had enough.
Paris is way more wild than anything I've ever seen. The Guide actually mentions 3 Fisting Bars, and 5 Golden Shower Bars. Don't feel bad if you don't know what this means, just feel lucky you have the job you have rather than being on the clean up crew at one of these bars.
Somehow we found the exit and started home. Halfway back to our hotels, we saw the rainbow flag flying over an innocent looking place. We agree to have one more drink. After we got in, we discovered it was a karoke bar. The boys were cute (not tweeked out) and fully clothed. You haven't lived until you are having a Bad Romance with Lady Gaga at the top of your lungs with a French accent.
I thought I was kind of leading edge and very cool, but in reality, I'm just Karoke.
Until Next Time - Wise OUT
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Paris Part One
It's been about 5 years since I was last in Paris. I noticed some changes about attitudes towards Americans. Maybe it's because George W. was President the last time I was here. Everyone was friendly, except some weird guy I met at a sidewalk cafe. He was friendly at first, but then it got kind of bizarre. But I did get a white hat from this short but intense relationship. See Facebook for a pic of the hat.
If you believe that the French set the fashion trends for the rest of us, then pay attention.
If you are under 30, long hair is back in style. You should also be wearing capri pants with brightly colored canvas tennis shoes.
If you are over 30, there is only ONE hairstyle, buzzed, with a 2 or 3 day growth on your face. Capri pants are OK too. I did notice that wearing shorts is now way more acceptable than it was on my last visit.
The good news, don't throw away those old plaid shirts you have stowed away, Plaid is the new white. And anything purple is very popular.
Everyone complains how expensive Paris is. I don't know, we ate very good meals at sidewalk cafes and nice restaurants and paid about 20 Euros for the entree. At the current exchange rate that's about $24. That's about what you would pay for a nice entree at a fairly good restaurant in Seattle. But for 20 Euros you get French food and a very romantic setting.
Speaking of food. The French eat like they want to have a heart attack. Very rich, full of creams, cheeses and carbs. But they are all so thin. We never saw one overweight French person. The fat ones were speaking English. I'm not sure how they stay so thin. They eat all day and drink all night.
Another observation is that they all seem to be about the same height. Not overly tall or extremely short. My friend Jeff who is over 6 feet was by far the tallest person we encountered. David, his partner is about my height 5'7". The two of us were definitely in that comfort zone.
The French seem so cool and progressive that it's hard to believe that they are the most Catholic country in the world. But that might explain why we kept running into hordes of children.
The first day we took a train to Versailles. This was the summer palace for King Louise (the some number) and his wife Marie Antoinnette. This also was the palace that the Parisians stormed, captured them and took them to the Bastille to have their heads chopped off.
We get off the train and right between the station and the palace is a McDonalds. David announces that he needs some fries. We go in and find the place is packed with hundreds of kids about 7 years old. All exactly the same size. They are all queued up at the counter to order their little happy meals. But McD's has a kiosk where you can order and pay. We order the 2 fries and 3 Cokes, I take out my Credit Card, swipe and the machine accepts our order. Then immediately at the front of the line, they are yelling that our order is ready. Now that's efficiency. I put the card in my wallet and my wallet in my satchel. I've been warned that you don't want to carry your wallet in your back pocket. We push our way through the 4 ft high 7 year olds to get our fries.
We go sit down and Jeff tells me that I should transfer my wallet to my front pocket. I open my bag and my wallet is gone! In about 2 minutes someone stole my wallet. 500 Euros, 100 USD, American Express, Visa, my ATM card, my company ID, and my ORCA card. This is where I was so stupid. Lessons Learned, NEVER carry more than one card and only the amount of money you will spend that day. I started to panic, but Jeff calmed me down.
I called American Express to cancel my cards. I'm in the middle of the restaurant explaining the situation to a very nice lady at Amex, when in walks Ronald McDonald! Yes, THE Ronald McDonald. He yells "Hello Boys and Girls". Of course he's speaking French. Ronald is like Jesus, he understands and speaks all languages.
Now all of a sudden those hundreds of 7 year olds, leave their line, start screaming and come running towards us. Well not actually towards us, but to the clown who has stategically placed us between him and them. The only thing worse than loosing your identity, your money, and your credit cards, is to be stampeded by hundreds of children. This was God's way of punishing me for going to a McDonald's in Paris. What was I thinking? The best food in the world and I'm at an F'in McDonalds.
The next day we at the Orsy Museum. David and I have to go to the bathroom. As we are leaving, 30 to 40 little 4 year olds come running into the bathroom. They all have to go bad. We are stuck trying to get out. We can't move. The 4 year olds are about 3 feet tall, all the same height. They are all screaming. I'm not sure how they were going to handle this. The urinals were not those type on the floor, they were mounted on the wall. Not extremely tall ones, you know the type where you have to stand on your toes and aim high. But tall enough that these little people would not be able to use. We had to start pushing and stepping over these kids to get out. Luckily for us, we were done and not just going in. If we were just entering we'd probably have to take turns holding these kids up so they could pee.
Loosing my wallet, and all these encounters with children are not exactly what I envisioned when I planned the trip to Paris for Pride. But it is what it is. My next blog will deal with more adventures in Paris.
Au Revoir
Wise - OUT
If you believe that the French set the fashion trends for the rest of us, then pay attention.
If you are under 30, long hair is back in style. You should also be wearing capri pants with brightly colored canvas tennis shoes.
If you are over 30, there is only ONE hairstyle, buzzed, with a 2 or 3 day growth on your face. Capri pants are OK too. I did notice that wearing shorts is now way more acceptable than it was on my last visit.
The good news, don't throw away those old plaid shirts you have stowed away, Plaid is the new white. And anything purple is very popular.
Everyone complains how expensive Paris is. I don't know, we ate very good meals at sidewalk cafes and nice restaurants and paid about 20 Euros for the entree. At the current exchange rate that's about $24. That's about what you would pay for a nice entree at a fairly good restaurant in Seattle. But for 20 Euros you get French food and a very romantic setting.
Speaking of food. The French eat like they want to have a heart attack. Very rich, full of creams, cheeses and carbs. But they are all so thin. We never saw one overweight French person. The fat ones were speaking English. I'm not sure how they stay so thin. They eat all day and drink all night.
Another observation is that they all seem to be about the same height. Not overly tall or extremely short. My friend Jeff who is over 6 feet was by far the tallest person we encountered. David, his partner is about my height 5'7". The two of us were definitely in that comfort zone.
The French seem so cool and progressive that it's hard to believe that they are the most Catholic country in the world. But that might explain why we kept running into hordes of children.
The first day we took a train to Versailles. This was the summer palace for King Louise (the some number) and his wife Marie Antoinnette. This also was the palace that the Parisians stormed, captured them and took them to the Bastille to have their heads chopped off.
We get off the train and right between the station and the palace is a McDonalds. David announces that he needs some fries. We go in and find the place is packed with hundreds of kids about 7 years old. All exactly the same size. They are all queued up at the counter to order their little happy meals. But McD's has a kiosk where you can order and pay. We order the 2 fries and 3 Cokes, I take out my Credit Card, swipe and the machine accepts our order. Then immediately at the front of the line, they are yelling that our order is ready. Now that's efficiency. I put the card in my wallet and my wallet in my satchel. I've been warned that you don't want to carry your wallet in your back pocket. We push our way through the 4 ft high 7 year olds to get our fries.
We go sit down and Jeff tells me that I should transfer my wallet to my front pocket. I open my bag and my wallet is gone! In about 2 minutes someone stole my wallet. 500 Euros, 100 USD, American Express, Visa, my ATM card, my company ID, and my ORCA card. This is where I was so stupid. Lessons Learned, NEVER carry more than one card and only the amount of money you will spend that day. I started to panic, but Jeff calmed me down.
I called American Express to cancel my cards. I'm in the middle of the restaurant explaining the situation to a very nice lady at Amex, when in walks Ronald McDonald! Yes, THE Ronald McDonald. He yells "Hello Boys and Girls". Of course he's speaking French. Ronald is like Jesus, he understands and speaks all languages.
Now all of a sudden those hundreds of 7 year olds, leave their line, start screaming and come running towards us. Well not actually towards us, but to the clown who has stategically placed us between him and them. The only thing worse than loosing your identity, your money, and your credit cards, is to be stampeded by hundreds of children. This was God's way of punishing me for going to a McDonald's in Paris. What was I thinking? The best food in the world and I'm at an F'in McDonalds.
The next day we at the Orsy Museum. David and I have to go to the bathroom. As we are leaving, 30 to 40 little 4 year olds come running into the bathroom. They all have to go bad. We are stuck trying to get out. We can't move. The 4 year olds are about 3 feet tall, all the same height. They are all screaming. I'm not sure how they were going to handle this. The urinals were not those type on the floor, they were mounted on the wall. Not extremely tall ones, you know the type where you have to stand on your toes and aim high. But tall enough that these little people would not be able to use. We had to start pushing and stepping over these kids to get out. Luckily for us, we were done and not just going in. If we were just entering we'd probably have to take turns holding these kids up so they could pee.
Loosing my wallet, and all these encounters with children are not exactly what I envisioned when I planned the trip to Paris for Pride. But it is what it is. My next blog will deal with more adventures in Paris.
Au Revoir
Wise - OUT
Thursday, May 13, 2010
Smell The Roses
I sat near the rear of the mega church. There must have been 300 - 400 people at the memorial service for my friend's son. Richie was about 27 years old. He was diagnosed as a child with the Jerry Lewis disease (muscular dystrophy). He lived longer than anyone expected.
I felt out of place here as I really didn't know him at all. I had met him once when he was about 10 years old. I had always meant to get down to Portland to spend more time with my friend and Richie. But I justified the 'non-visits' by claiming I was too busy.
As I listened to the stories , I realized that there was a common theme. The presenters ranged in age from early 20's to the late 70's, and they all portrayed Richie as a fun loving guy with a thirst for knowledge and understanding. He loved practical jokes. Someone mentioned that Richie really didn't have any time for lying or saying anything he really didn't mean. He knew his days were numbered and wanted to make the most of them. Despite his challenges, he graduated from Oregon State University, went to New York City by himself and enrolled at NYU and took courses at Harvard.
Richie's mother read a few letters from his friends back east. His minister read a long email that Richie had written. Both the email and the letters brought a vivid picture of a guy that wasn't afraid to express his thoughts,emotions and feelings.
When I left the service I no longer felt that I shouldn't have been there. Richie had allowed me into his life. I got a glimpse of his personallity, his friends and sense of humor and frustrations. Even in death this extraordinary young man still had the ability to sway and affect those around him.
We are all different. We have different beliefs, different experiences and different priorities. But all of our stories are going to end exactly the same way. But will we still have influence over those remaining after we leave?
Driving back to the airport, I had to ask. What am I doing? In our (or at least my) busy world, we are looking for shortcuts. We text instead of call or email or even talk to each other. When texting we don't even spell the whole word out anymore. Shortcuts for everything. It's like a race. First one to the end . . . What? Wins? I'm not sure.
Richie taught me to s l o w d o w n. Maybe call a few friends. Maybe write a letter or two. Can you imagine how impressed and precious it would be to get a real letter in the mail? and even more so if it wasn't asking for money. Maybe even try to express my feelings to those close to me. This is one race, I don't mind loosing.
I'm proud to say that Richard Zibell is a friend of mine. He has taught me avaluable lesson.
Until Next Time - Wise OUT
I felt out of place here as I really didn't know him at all. I had met him once when he was about 10 years old. I had always meant to get down to Portland to spend more time with my friend and Richie. But I justified the 'non-visits' by claiming I was too busy.
As I listened to the stories , I realized that there was a common theme. The presenters ranged in age from early 20's to the late 70's, and they all portrayed Richie as a fun loving guy with a thirst for knowledge and understanding. He loved practical jokes. Someone mentioned that Richie really didn't have any time for lying or saying anything he really didn't mean. He knew his days were numbered and wanted to make the most of them. Despite his challenges, he graduated from Oregon State University, went to New York City by himself and enrolled at NYU and took courses at Harvard.
Richie's mother read a few letters from his friends back east. His minister read a long email that Richie had written. Both the email and the letters brought a vivid picture of a guy that wasn't afraid to express his thoughts,emotions and feelings.
When I left the service I no longer felt that I shouldn't have been there. Richie had allowed me into his life. I got a glimpse of his personallity, his friends and sense of humor and frustrations. Even in death this extraordinary young man still had the ability to sway and affect those around him.
We are all different. We have different beliefs, different experiences and different priorities. But all of our stories are going to end exactly the same way. But will we still have influence over those remaining after we leave?
Driving back to the airport, I had to ask. What am I doing? In our (or at least my) busy world, we are looking for shortcuts. We text instead of call or email or even talk to each other. When texting we don't even spell the whole word out anymore. Shortcuts for everything. It's like a race. First one to the end . . . What? Wins? I'm not sure.
Richie taught me to s l o w d o w n. Maybe call a few friends. Maybe write a letter or two. Can you imagine how impressed and precious it would be to get a real letter in the mail? and even more so if it wasn't asking for money. Maybe even try to express my feelings to those close to me. This is one race, I don't mind loosing.
I'm proud to say that Richard Zibell is a friend of mine. He has taught me avaluable lesson.
Until Next Time - Wise OUT
Thursday, March 4, 2010
Speed Dating
I was curious when Michael, my friend and ex boyfriend, mentioned that he saw a link for gay speed dating. He immediately thought of me and even offered to pay the $10 fee. I'm thinking that both he and Rich, his current boyfriend, must be tired of me hanging around as a 3rd wheel.
It cost $10 and you get to meet or date 9 other guys. Each of the dates last 10 minutes. I had read about speed dating and was interested in how it works. And to be honest, I had run out of blog material. So if nothing else it would make an interesting story.
I went online, registered, and paid my $10 thru my Pay Pal account. To quote their advertising, $10, 10 Guys, 10 Minutes. The price seemed about right. I've spent way over $10 on one guy that ended up in a disaster.
The night before speed dating I had a reoccurring dream. I'm not sure it can be called a dream when it's a rememberence from the past while you sleep.
I'm 12 years old again. Everyone is standing on the baseball diamond and they start choosing sides. Everyone gets picked but me. I'm not only the last but I'm not chosen at all. Both sides walk off to start the game. What do I do? Do I go to my usual position - DEEP DEEP right field along the foul line or do I go behind the batters box? Today I simply walk to the sidelines while everyone, it seems is pointing and laughing.
As usual I wake in a cold sweat.
Michael met me at the South Lake Grille about 45 minutes before speed dating begins. He wasn't going to participate but he was there to give me moral support. But I think secretly he wanted to watch.
I was nervous and started looking around for other potential speed daters. Everyone seemed to be coupled off except two guys. They looked like they were stuck in the 60's. Not necessarily old but the type who hasn't had a haircut in the past few years and had a faint aromoa of weed.
I told Michael, this is going to be weird. But part of me was relieved. I wasn't here to hook up or even date. I just needed to have the speed dating experience. And the more bizarre. the better for my blog.
Another drink and it was time to go upstairs for speed dating. I checked in and was surprised to see that every guy there was cute. I started to panic - Where were my dope smoking friends from downstairs?
The guys were mostly professional and all were interesting, an attorney, a couple Microsoft developers, a hair stylist, a guy who just returned from the Peace Corps, a yoga instructor and and and well me. Panic, panic, I totally did not belong here with all these hot guys. What if I'm the only one not picked? OH grow up, I tell myself.
If you've never participated in speed dating you are missing quite an experience. I would recommend it to everyone. That is if you are single.
Since this was gay dating they had 10 girls on one side of the room and 10 boys on the other. I have to say the girls were way louder than the boys.
They had 5 guys sitting on one side of a long table and 5 guys on the other side. The guy directly in front of you is your 1st date. They yell GO!
I now have 10 minutes to get to know the the guy and also to sell myself. After 10 minutes we mark on a paper their name and either "I'm interested in dating" or "Would like to be friends" or leave it blank. Then everyone shifts one seat left, they yell GO and your 2nd date begins.
After everyone dates everyone, speed dating is over. They collect our forms and told us that we would be informed via email of any perfect matches. I had selected 4 guys as datable and 4 as friends.
For not caring I was really nervous. About 3:00am my cell phone buzzed and woke me up. It was informing me that I had an email. I immediately opened it up and was hurt. Only 3 guys wanted to be friends and absolutely no one wanted to date. Once again the game had started and I was pushed to the sidelines.
I'm still confused why this bothered me. I had never even met these guys before, why should I care? And to the 3 guys that want to be my friend, thank you, but I have 219 friends on facebook, I hardly need 3 more.
This blog took a weird twist. Instead of writing about speed dating, it turned into an expose of an inferiority complex that I thought I had left behind many years ago.
Until Next Time - Wise OUT
It cost $10 and you get to meet or date 9 other guys. Each of the dates last 10 minutes. I had read about speed dating and was interested in how it works. And to be honest, I had run out of blog material. So if nothing else it would make an interesting story.
I went online, registered, and paid my $10 thru my Pay Pal account. To quote their advertising, $10, 10 Guys, 10 Minutes. The price seemed about right. I've spent way over $10 on one guy that ended up in a disaster.
The night before speed dating I had a reoccurring dream. I'm not sure it can be called a dream when it's a rememberence from the past while you sleep.
I'm 12 years old again. Everyone is standing on the baseball diamond and they start choosing sides. Everyone gets picked but me. I'm not only the last but I'm not chosen at all. Both sides walk off to start the game. What do I do? Do I go to my usual position - DEEP DEEP right field along the foul line or do I go behind the batters box? Today I simply walk to the sidelines while everyone, it seems is pointing and laughing.
As usual I wake in a cold sweat.
Michael met me at the South Lake Grille about 45 minutes before speed dating begins. He wasn't going to participate but he was there to give me moral support. But I think secretly he wanted to watch.
I was nervous and started looking around for other potential speed daters. Everyone seemed to be coupled off except two guys. They looked like they were stuck in the 60's. Not necessarily old but the type who hasn't had a haircut in the past few years and had a faint aromoa of weed.
I told Michael, this is going to be weird. But part of me was relieved. I wasn't here to hook up or even date. I just needed to have the speed dating experience. And the more bizarre. the better for my blog.
Another drink and it was time to go upstairs for speed dating. I checked in and was surprised to see that every guy there was cute. I started to panic - Where were my dope smoking friends from downstairs?
The guys were mostly professional and all were interesting, an attorney, a couple Microsoft developers, a hair stylist, a guy who just returned from the Peace Corps, a yoga instructor and and and well me. Panic, panic, I totally did not belong here with all these hot guys. What if I'm the only one not picked? OH grow up, I tell myself.
If you've never participated in speed dating you are missing quite an experience. I would recommend it to everyone. That is if you are single.
Since this was gay dating they had 10 girls on one side of the room and 10 boys on the other. I have to say the girls were way louder than the boys.
They had 5 guys sitting on one side of a long table and 5 guys on the other side. The guy directly in front of you is your 1st date. They yell GO!
I now have 10 minutes to get to know the the guy and also to sell myself. After 10 minutes we mark on a paper their name and either "I'm interested in dating" or "Would like to be friends" or leave it blank. Then everyone shifts one seat left, they yell GO and your 2nd date begins.
After everyone dates everyone, speed dating is over. They collect our forms and told us that we would be informed via email of any perfect matches. I had selected 4 guys as datable and 4 as friends.
For not caring I was really nervous. About 3:00am my cell phone buzzed and woke me up. It was informing me that I had an email. I immediately opened it up and was hurt. Only 3 guys wanted to be friends and absolutely no one wanted to date. Once again the game had started and I was pushed to the sidelines.
I'm still confused why this bothered me. I had never even met these guys before, why should I care? And to the 3 guys that want to be my friend, thank you, but I have 219 friends on facebook, I hardly need 3 more.
This blog took a weird twist. Instead of writing about speed dating, it turned into an expose of an inferiority complex that I thought I had left behind many years ago.
Until Next Time - Wise OUT
Monday, February 1, 2010
The Long Wait
Is 20 minutes too late to wait for a date to show up? I'm just asking because it's 6:20pm. I'm sitting at Piecora's waiting for 'G' my 6:00 date. We met a couple weeks ago at Madison Pub. We played pool and had a great time. I liked him and I guess he like me too, because he asked if we could go out on a "real" date sometime. After pool we exchanged phone numbers and he left.
Later that night he called me and told me he was serious about going out and asked what I was doing the next night. I invited him to go bowling. The problem was that it was our 1st date and bowling was going to be with my entire family. That's a lot of pressure to put on someone. He said he was cool with that and we could go as friends.
The next morning he called me and told me he couldn't make it as he was called into work. I totally understood and told him we could make it another day.
When? he asked.
What about Sunday afternoon. We could go bowling at the Garage.
He said that was fine. The agreement was that I would find out the hours and call him Sunday with the details.
On Sunday I got the info and tried to call him. His phone immediately went to voice mail the lady says "the mailbox is full". I couldn't even leave a message. I tried calling all day, evening and the next day. Nothing.
Finally on Tuesday he called me from a pay phone (I didn't even know they still existed) and told me that he hadn't paid his cell bill and he couldn't call out. I told him I couldn't leave a message either. He was sorry and asked if we could try again.
We agree to meet at Piecora's for a slice of pizza then walk over to the Garage and bowl. We were to meet at 6. It is now 6:30.
If this was the first guy that stood me up, it wouldn't be so bad BUT...
In November I went to the dating site on Craig's List and found an interesting ad. I answered the ad and within a couple hours I got a response. We found that we had a lot in common. I sent him a picture of me and he still seemed interested. He said he didn't have any digital pictures of himself.
We agreed to meet at Pacific Place after work one night. That afternoon he called and told me that work was exhausting and asked if we could reschedule. Of course this was no problem. He asked what I was doing on Saturday. I told him I was going to Madison Pub to watch the Apple Cup. For those non-football types this was the annual game between the University of Washington and WSU. He told me he'd meet me there.
On Saturday I went to the Pub and I met my friend Josh and his boyfriend Christian. I told them I was meeting a blind date. Each new guy that walked in they would ask,
Is that him?
I don't know!
Bottom Line: He never showed up. No call or no text.
Days later he text me and told me he was tired on Saturday and didn't make it out. But work was going to ease up next week so we should try next week. We then set up another date for downtown after work.
Date night afternoon he texts me and tells me work was rough. I text him back asking
Does that mean we are cancelling?
He texts back
Not sure will let u know l8tr
(is l8tr that much of a shortcut from later?)
He never replied back nor showed up. I never got an explanation or an apology.
So here I sit at Piecora's drinking my Elysian Immortal IPA. - yes they have Elysian on tap!
Now I'm wondering is an hour too long to wait?
Until next time - Wise OUT
Later that night he called me and told me he was serious about going out and asked what I was doing the next night. I invited him to go bowling. The problem was that it was our 1st date and bowling was going to be with my entire family. That's a lot of pressure to put on someone. He said he was cool with that and we could go as friends.
The next morning he called me and told me he couldn't make it as he was called into work. I totally understood and told him we could make it another day.
When? he asked.
What about Sunday afternoon. We could go bowling at the Garage.
He said that was fine. The agreement was that I would find out the hours and call him Sunday with the details.
On Sunday I got the info and tried to call him. His phone immediately went to voice mail the lady says "the mailbox is full". I couldn't even leave a message. I tried calling all day, evening and the next day. Nothing.
Finally on Tuesday he called me from a pay phone (I didn't even know they still existed) and told me that he hadn't paid his cell bill and he couldn't call out. I told him I couldn't leave a message either. He was sorry and asked if we could try again.
We agree to meet at Piecora's for a slice of pizza then walk over to the Garage and bowl. We were to meet at 6. It is now 6:30.
If this was the first guy that stood me up, it wouldn't be so bad BUT...
In November I went to the dating site on Craig's List and found an interesting ad. I answered the ad and within a couple hours I got a response. We found that we had a lot in common. I sent him a picture of me and he still seemed interested. He said he didn't have any digital pictures of himself.
We agreed to meet at Pacific Place after work one night. That afternoon he called and told me that work was exhausting and asked if we could reschedule. Of course this was no problem. He asked what I was doing on Saturday. I told him I was going to Madison Pub to watch the Apple Cup. For those non-football types this was the annual game between the University of Washington and WSU. He told me he'd meet me there.
On Saturday I went to the Pub and I met my friend Josh and his boyfriend Christian. I told them I was meeting a blind date. Each new guy that walked in they would ask,
Is that him?
I don't know!
Bottom Line: He never showed up. No call or no text.
Days later he text me and told me he was tired on Saturday and didn't make it out. But work was going to ease up next week so we should try next week. We then set up another date for downtown after work.
Date night afternoon he texts me and tells me work was rough. I text him back asking
Does that mean we are cancelling?
He texts back
Not sure will let u know l8tr
(is l8tr that much of a shortcut from later?)
He never replied back nor showed up. I never got an explanation or an apology.
So here I sit at Piecora's drinking my Elysian Immortal IPA. - yes they have Elysian on tap!
Now I'm wondering is an hour too long to wait?
Until next time - Wise OUT
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
Funeral Girl
They really aren't my cousins. I got custody of Kathy, Trey her husband, and Mike her brother after the divorce. We used to be best friends and saw each other if not every day then at least a couple times a week. There was a lot of drama around the divorce, and after I moved to Capitol Hill, we saw each other a lot less. We tried but it just wasn't feasible to keep the same contact.
So I was excited to be invited to join them on their annual day after Christmas train trip to Centralia. They get on Amtrak in the morning and in a couple hours they are at the Olympic Hotel. This is a historic hotel and bar owned and operated by McMenamins out of Portland. It is a very interesting place, with a theatre and a billiards rooms. Here is the link if you want to check it out.
http://www.mcmenamins.com/index.php?loc=58&category=Location%20Homepage
We arrived in Centralia about noon. The hotel is literally just across the tracks . We went to check in and found out that check in is at 3, and our rooms aren't ready yet. This is no problem, it is after noon after all. We go into the bar and order our beer and cajun tater tots. It is worth the trip just for the tots.
We are talking and having a good time. Then a girl comes in and sits right next to me.
Hey, how you doin? I ask. (and yes I know it's not grammatically correct, but when I drink I talk like that).
Not very good, she replied.
Oh, what's the matter?
Are you here for the funeral?
Funeral? no what funeral?
My boyfriend killed himself, the service is today.
I'n not very good at this stuff , and I was stunned and speechless. (yes, believe it or not, sometimes I have no idea what to say). But Kathy, the sweetest person in the whole world, comes over and hugs the girl and offers to buy her a drink.
The funeral girl talks a bit about her boyfriend, then just stops talking. Our rooms are ready and I was glad to get out of there. We spent the rest of the day exploring the little town and playing pool. Later we go see the movie in the hotel.
The hotel has a fire pit out back with chairs and tables. After the movie we found ourselves out by the fire. There's a group of people there and we find out they are all related. 2 sisters, Ruby and Ruthie, their husbands and their brother Rudi. Yes, I know you can't make this up. 3 siblings all named RU something.
The husbands were a lot of fun and called me the Rickster. Then they yelled at Rudi and said he needed to join us that he would like me. Ruby and Ruthie thought we should date each other.
I'm NOT GAY, was Rudi's reply. He never really got mad and I milked this for all it was worth. They wanted a family picture, and invited me to join in as I would soon be their brother in law. I of course kept this joke up all night. A few of my lines were:
Come on Rudi, we would make a good couple.
Rudi, There's 3 things that cause problems with couples.
Family, they already like me.
Money, we both have jobs, no problem.
Sex, well we will just have to experiment with that one.
Rudi, I know you are afraid of me but we should at least be friends.
Just when I was getting warmed up, the funeral girl shows up with a friend. She talked to everyone for a while, then came over and sat on my lap. Then she kissed me.
Anything?
No sorry I'm gay.
Then she grabbed my crotch.
Still nothing?
Nope.
Rudi seeing this, chimed in, you can grab me, I'll show you something.
She simply glared at him.
Then the funeral girl disappeared. For another hour or so, I continued to try to talk Rudi into admitting he liked me and he should make me part of his family.
Finally Kathy and Trey told everyone they were done for the night and going to bed. I was definitely done too. But I did ask one last time if Rudi wanted to join me.
I'm NOT GAY.
I got up to my room and smelled my clothes. They smelled like camp fire. I was so tired and probably drunk, that I simply shed all my clothes and threw them in the corner and fell into bed. I was almost asleep with someone knocked on my door.
What? Who's there? no answer, simply a continued knock.
I get up, stand behind the door to use it as cover and open the door a crack. It's the funeral girl. She tells me she has to talk. Her friend is with someone in her room and she just needs to talk. I look around and my clothes are in the far corner. OK, just a minute, I jump into bed and cover up and say come on in.
She comes in and tells me that besides the funeral today, it was also the anniversary of her son's murder! He was stabbed last year in Spokane.
OMG, what did I get into? Where do these people come from? She is crying and just keeps talking. Somewhere in between the sobs, I fell asleep.
The next thing I know, there's a banging on my door. My eyes can barely open, it is morning and the light is hurting my head. I again walk to the door and crack it a little. There's another girl and she says:
I didn't sleep with him, honest.
Who are you?
I'm funeral girl's friend, and she points into my room. There on my bed is funeral girl, naked and just waking up! She tells her friend to come on in. The girl pushes the door open. Now I'm standing there naked with 2 girls in my room. I run over to my smoke infused jeans, put them on and tell them that they have to leave now. Go to your own room.
I honestly don't think my head has ever hurt so much. Everything was a cloud. On their way out funeral girl did tell me that nothing happened, and I was a gentleman. She just needed to be with someone last night.
On the way home, through the fog, I realized that despite one of the weirdest weekends I have ever experienced, it was great to be able to spend this time with my good friends. And a lesson learned. Don't ask: Hey, How you doin? unless you are ready to hear the truth and maybe become part of the drama that we call life.
Until Next Time - Wise OUT
So I was excited to be invited to join them on their annual day after Christmas train trip to Centralia. They get on Amtrak in the morning and in a couple hours they are at the Olympic Hotel. This is a historic hotel and bar owned and operated by McMenamins out of Portland. It is a very interesting place, with a theatre and a billiards rooms. Here is the link if you want to check it out.
http://www.mcmenamins.com/index.php?loc=58&category=Location%20Homepage
We arrived in Centralia about noon. The hotel is literally just across the tracks . We went to check in and found out that check in is at 3, and our rooms aren't ready yet. This is no problem, it is after noon after all. We go into the bar and order our beer and cajun tater tots. It is worth the trip just for the tots.
We are talking and having a good time. Then a girl comes in and sits right next to me.
Hey, how you doin? I ask. (and yes I know it's not grammatically correct, but when I drink I talk like that).
Not very good, she replied.
Oh, what's the matter?
Are you here for the funeral?
Funeral? no what funeral?
My boyfriend killed himself, the service is today.
I'n not very good at this stuff , and I was stunned and speechless. (yes, believe it or not, sometimes I have no idea what to say). But Kathy, the sweetest person in the whole world, comes over and hugs the girl and offers to buy her a drink.
The funeral girl talks a bit about her boyfriend, then just stops talking. Our rooms are ready and I was glad to get out of there. We spent the rest of the day exploring the little town and playing pool. Later we go see the movie in the hotel.
The hotel has a fire pit out back with chairs and tables. After the movie we found ourselves out by the fire. There's a group of people there and we find out they are all related. 2 sisters, Ruby and Ruthie, their husbands and their brother Rudi. Yes, I know you can't make this up. 3 siblings all named RU something.
The husbands were a lot of fun and called me the Rickster. Then they yelled at Rudi and said he needed to join us that he would like me. Ruby and Ruthie thought we should date each other.
I'm NOT GAY, was Rudi's reply. He never really got mad and I milked this for all it was worth. They wanted a family picture, and invited me to join in as I would soon be their brother in law. I of course kept this joke up all night. A few of my lines were:
Come on Rudi, we would make a good couple.
Rudi, There's 3 things that cause problems with couples.
Family, they already like me.
Money, we both have jobs, no problem.
Sex, well we will just have to experiment with that one.
Rudi, I know you are afraid of me but we should at least be friends.
Just when I was getting warmed up, the funeral girl shows up with a friend. She talked to everyone for a while, then came over and sat on my lap. Then she kissed me.
Anything?
No sorry I'm gay.
Then she grabbed my crotch.
Still nothing?
Nope.
Rudi seeing this, chimed in, you can grab me, I'll show you something.
She simply glared at him.
Then the funeral girl disappeared. For another hour or so, I continued to try to talk Rudi into admitting he liked me and he should make me part of his family.
Finally Kathy and Trey told everyone they were done for the night and going to bed. I was definitely done too. But I did ask one last time if Rudi wanted to join me.
I'm NOT GAY.
I got up to my room and smelled my clothes. They smelled like camp fire. I was so tired and probably drunk, that I simply shed all my clothes and threw them in the corner and fell into bed. I was almost asleep with someone knocked on my door.
What? Who's there? no answer, simply a continued knock.
I get up, stand behind the door to use it as cover and open the door a crack. It's the funeral girl. She tells me she has to talk. Her friend is with someone in her room and she just needs to talk. I look around and my clothes are in the far corner. OK, just a minute, I jump into bed and cover up and say come on in.
She comes in and tells me that besides the funeral today, it was also the anniversary of her son's murder! He was stabbed last year in Spokane.
OMG, what did I get into? Where do these people come from? She is crying and just keeps talking. Somewhere in between the sobs, I fell asleep.
The next thing I know, there's a banging on my door. My eyes can barely open, it is morning and the light is hurting my head. I again walk to the door and crack it a little. There's another girl and she says:
I didn't sleep with him, honest.
Who are you?
I'm funeral girl's friend, and she points into my room. There on my bed is funeral girl, naked and just waking up! She tells her friend to come on in. The girl pushes the door open. Now I'm standing there naked with 2 girls in my room. I run over to my smoke infused jeans, put them on and tell them that they have to leave now. Go to your own room.
I honestly don't think my head has ever hurt so much. Everything was a cloud. On their way out funeral girl did tell me that nothing happened, and I was a gentleman. She just needed to be with someone last night.
On the way home, through the fog, I realized that despite one of the weirdest weekends I have ever experienced, it was great to be able to spend this time with my good friends. And a lesson learned. Don't ask: Hey, How you doin? unless you are ready to hear the truth and maybe become part of the drama that we call life.
Until Next Time - Wise OUT
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