nineblondes
On the Prowl
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So this past weekend my two very good friends, or I should say two of my very good friends so it doesn't sound as if they are my only two, were hitched, that is, were married. He's an old friend form college and she is an old acquaintance from college who quickly grew into a larger role and they are totally going to have a great rest of their lives because they are the kind of couple that got stronger when they mixed. Like an alloy or something more cliché.
I drank way too much that weekend and though these two newlyweds are the sort of friends I just know I'll have forever (and I hope you have some like these two, too), for some reason I haven't been able to tell them I'm gay. Other friends know and I feel like I'm doing these two a disservice by not letting it out.
Before I get carried away, though, let me mention that innuendo is one of my top five favorite things of all time. I have no doubt that they at the very least suspect. The groom was roommate with just a wall between us the last time I held a cock that wasn't my own. At some point my jokes and winks and nudges and eyebrows raised have surely become to them obviously more than just laughs. These two aren't dumb.
I drank way too much and the night before the wedding, the bride and I left the bar by the hotel to smoke a cigarette outside. There were a bunch of us in there and the smokers among us congregated curbside periodically. The bartender was annoyed and overwhelmed and we tipped him well. Most everyone was half a couple, either married or otherwise, but not me and not this other guy, M.
"M" is to protect his identity. I don't think M is going to happen upon my JUB blog any time soon, but.
M is a good looking guy, intelligent, fit, funny, loves pinball, and plays ultimate. We have a lot in common. Although, I could be fitter. M scrunches up his face in disappointment when I smoke cigarettes. If my life was a movie, and I was paying close enough attention the The Great Director's visual cues from the audience, I'd see his disappointed scrunching and have to assume he cares about me.
So, the bride and I are just barely out the door of the bar by the hotel, cigarettes in our mouths and matches pulled already poised to strike and she suddenly says "M is bisexual!" really loudly because she drank too much, too.
I pause for a second and don't ask her what that has to do with me or smoking cigarettes or bad tasting Oktoberfest because the bar didn't bleed the lines or anything else on the eve of her wedding, and wonder if she's seen me glancing M's way, because despite never telling her I am gay, and instead relying solely on her ability to register directorial cues and assuming she has taken my incessant innuendo to be an implied self-outing, I couldn't help but think that her comment was somehow for my benefit.
It made me smile.
Then the bride continued, "He's also an asshole."
I drank way too much that weekend and though these two newlyweds are the sort of friends I just know I'll have forever (and I hope you have some like these two, too), for some reason I haven't been able to tell them I'm gay. Other friends know and I feel like I'm doing these two a disservice by not letting it out.
Before I get carried away, though, let me mention that innuendo is one of my top five favorite things of all time. I have no doubt that they at the very least suspect. The groom was roommate with just a wall between us the last time I held a cock that wasn't my own. At some point my jokes and winks and nudges and eyebrows raised have surely become to them obviously more than just laughs. These two aren't dumb.
I drank way too much and the night before the wedding, the bride and I left the bar by the hotel to smoke a cigarette outside. There were a bunch of us in there and the smokers among us congregated curbside periodically. The bartender was annoyed and overwhelmed and we tipped him well. Most everyone was half a couple, either married or otherwise, but not me and not this other guy, M.
"M" is to protect his identity. I don't think M is going to happen upon my JUB blog any time soon, but.
M is a good looking guy, intelligent, fit, funny, loves pinball, and plays ultimate. We have a lot in common. Although, I could be fitter. M scrunches up his face in disappointment when I smoke cigarettes. If my life was a movie, and I was paying close enough attention the The Great Director's visual cues from the audience, I'd see his disappointed scrunching and have to assume he cares about me.
So, the bride and I are just barely out the door of the bar by the hotel, cigarettes in our mouths and matches pulled already poised to strike and she suddenly says "M is bisexual!" really loudly because she drank too much, too.
I pause for a second and don't ask her what that has to do with me or smoking cigarettes or bad tasting Oktoberfest because the bar didn't bleed the lines or anything else on the eve of her wedding, and wonder if she's seen me glancing M's way, because despite never telling her I am gay, and instead relying solely on her ability to register directorial cues and assuming she has taken my incessant innuendo to be an implied self-outing, I couldn't help but think that her comment was somehow for my benefit.
It made me smile.
Then the bride continued, "He's also an asshole."