Part VII or some such tally. I lose track how many times I've posted on my state of being. But here's some more.
This weekend saw me with two seperate groups of D&D friends on two different days. It's always very fun pretending to be a powerful Somebody Else--if not completely mental. In one group, a particular somebody finally admitted that he thought his feet were great looking. In my mind, I had to assume that surely he must do, because whenever we're over his house, or it's a degree above 49 outside, out come his feet! So tired of seeing those feet of his!! And this I have said before, white men LOVE THEIR FEET! Every summer, everywhere I've ever been, is a parade of sandals on white men. Billions of toes just gnarling everywhere you look. Women's feet are so much better. So, so much. They are usually artful and petite. And of course, I'm used to seeing them. But men's feet? Just in every virtual state of repair or disrepair. Big fleshy boats at the end of their legs. Cut me some SLACK. How did society teach white males that their feet are equivalent to their hands??
Anyway that happened over the weekend.
Also, The Benefactor brought his son over for the weekend then promptly disappeared for three days, leaving the boy here. And I will add, alone. Because I sure as heck didn't stay, except to return and sleep and quickly leave in the morning back to the gym for fun, frolick, shower, change clothes, and off to the next D&D game. Another reason I'm thankful for D&D.
Before this weekend, My Benefactor left a can of "low alcohol" beverage drink in the fridge--opened and more than half gone. So that solves that "elephant in the living room", but still, I'm not going to talk about it. I have no idea what the man wants to do, or thinks he's doing. He's still unemployed, but again again, his father is a millionaire. He will never go hungry or homeless. So he is now officially Retired. He's even gained about 15 lbs (since he insists on walking around with no shirt on, which is his effort to be considerate since originally he used to walk around naked. You thought I was kidding when I told you he has problems? And yet, I'm glad, because it was another nail in the coffin of the idea that I'm gay. Muscular heroically-posed men--awesome. Naked men--yuuchh). I thought the weight gain might point to his sobriety, but then there was the can of crap in the fridge, so he's just getting fat. Without a job to go to, I know too well how that can happen.
Tonight, he finally returned home and took his boy back to where he came from. The house is now, finally, empty.
And I have the nerve to be lonely. Not like Christmas lonely, but just kind of empty-feeling. Having the day off (and able to look at white girls without getting lynched, thank you Martin), I already have gone to the gym, and really ripped it up. Then I already went to Stabucks and wrote more of the novel. And now I'm back home blogging in an empty house.
Mind you, there's a huge difference between being in the house with someone you like and someone you don't. Being alone is better than actively avoiding The People Upstairs.
But I definitely need someone in my life. Dame Judi Dench is not answering my calls, so I'd better think of prospects elsewhere. I'm going to start getting dental work so I can feel more confident to chat up the honeys, and even though I still have way too much packed behind my flattening belly muscles, I think I'm at a good place to strut rooster-like out on a first date.
And for an added bonus, I'm going to finally publish a photo. (Ladies, don't all call at once. Fellas, really thanks but see above. I've decided not to be gay--even if I look like I am with my dashing scarf).
So, here goes. This was two weeks ago, done by the husband of a new friend named Kim who I met through My Hero, of whom I'm also a friend of, and thus it being all right then ...