sitting on his bed shirtless after an open bar (Part II)

Okay, so where did we leave off from last time? Open bar… Chinese food… Oh right. Sexican and I shirtless on his bed.

I get really nervous about making the first move if it’s not gift wrapped for me. For example, this night, I was damn near dizzy, not from the alcohol, but from weighing the pros and cons of going in for a kiss. Okay, that’s a lie: at that point, it was less if and more when.

. o O (Okay, I just need to go for it. Okay, I'm gonna do it in 10... 9... Shit, he just shifted. Okay, 10... 9... 8... Stupid TV, making him laugh. Okay, for real this time. But maybe I should just let it go... Shut up and go for it already!)

Really, there’s no right time because if a guy is into you and you go for it, he’ll fucking kiss you… but whatever, I over analyze this type of shit when I'm in the moment. 

So about 15 minutes into Brooke Knows Best (we had watched a full hour of that Megan show by now), I finally graduated from high school, scooting over over and leaning in.

It took him a second to realize what was happening, but when I was about 2 inches away from his face, he moved back ever so slightly with an, “Oh my!”

. o O (Wait, maybe he’s just taken aback. Yes? Okay, he’s not moving in. First move FAIL!)

Me: “Okay, my bad.”

Him: “I… I didn’t mean to make anything uncomfortable.”

“Naw, it’s all good,” I said with a non-chalant smile, turning back to the TV. As much as I hate being rejected, I was moreso relieved to have it over with. There are certain situations where sexual tension can be fun for me (because the fantasy is usually more fun than the realization), but for whatever reason in this situation, I felt the need to either go hard or go home. And this time, I had to go home hard. 

But since it was Dominican Day, I figured I’d be wrong for not peeking into No Parking on the way home. When I saw Costello outside (he’s a promoter for WaHi gay parties), I knew the bar was in celebration mode.

Did I mention I ran into the guy that picked me up the night after Halloween (when I was at No Parking in a speedo)? I definitely forgot who he was for the first 20 seconds or so. That was a messy night.

By the time I'd recovered from that weekend, it was Thursday, and had gotten Facebook invites for two open bars that night. Fuck.

I was surprised to see the boys outside when I arrived at Key Club at 9:15. At 9:20, we were still outside. Mind you, the open bar is only til 10. The bouncer said something about their "bank" not having arrived. Now I don't think I've paid a cover at this party for over a month, but tonight was $5. We had exact change for the 4 of us that were there, but we were still held outside. And the pretty boy bringing his friends around the velvet rope all VIP style while we waited definitely didn't help. A group of about 8 behind us were over it and went elsewhere.

Finally at 8:25 (i.e., 25 minutes after the open bar had started), we were admitted. Maybe we got a "sorry 'bout that" on the way in, but there was no extension to the open bar since they started late, no "hey, I'm sorry you guys had to wait because we didn't have it together. I know you guys come every week, so here's some drink tickets for your trouble." Nothing to help our perception of the Fornabaio Voss brand values its patrons or its own word. And it's not even about the money (any of us could have paid for a full night of drinking there without a problem if we chose to). 

Did I mention another friend was treated very rudely at the door of their Friday party (Rockit), and he called them out on racial discrimination? I wasn't there, so I can't say for sure. But true or misconstrued, the fact is that people are talking about it (this friend is not the only one). Neither situation is a good look for the Fornabaio Voss brand.

We enjoyed DJ Xavier’s early set before hopping a cab down to Element for a monthly party by Joey Israel (the second open bar of the night... thankfully, Joey's comp list couldn't have gone any more smoothly). There may have been 15 people when we walked in (in addition to the fabulously larger-than-life transwomen). I chassed up to the bar and asked the super-hot bartender, “So, what goes well with this Cruzan rum?” I couldn’t quite understand his answer, but he put his hand on my shoulder and something about mixing juices was involved. “Lemme get one of those… what’s this called?”

“I call it a ram panch.”

. o O (Is that an accent I hear?)

“I like your ram panch,” I said to his amusement.

We doubled our blood alcohol levels with hangover fuel and watched the transwomen dance with Matthew Camp on the stage to Cazwell’s ridiculously fun set before peacing out to View Bar. Because we definitely needed $3 frozen margaritas (they raised the price! I remember when they were a dollar!).

As we guzzled (pausing only to avoid brain freezes), I noticed a familiar face walk into the bar: an Aussie I had met briefly at DR!P the night before. He was fully dressed when when we first talked (at DR!P), and I promptly informed him of his problematic condition. He went to “go walk around,” and we spoke later when he was more appropriately dressed for the party. As I watched him walk away, his amazing ass reminded me of why I loved my semester in Sydney so much.

So we talked (at View) for a while about god knows what before he excused himself to go rejoin his friends for a bit. Around 12:30, Med School Mess was acting like she was going to die if she didn’t get an injection of DJ Sidewalk at that instant. I told them to go to Splash without me.

“Gonna stay for your Australian?”

"My train is right there! There's no way I'm walking east this late... And maybe I just want to say goodbye before I head uptown."

Did I mention that the outback is beautiful this time of year (okay, it’s actually winter down there, but just go with it)? Yeah!

I didn't make it to The Eagle yesterday, but click here to read a post from a hilarious afternoon there. WOOF.

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