Since most of my day yesterday was spent in the fog of a hangover and since people were being wishy-washy about actually going out with me last night, I had given up on going out around eleven-thirty, climbed into bed, knowing that it was for the best, that my body needed to rest and detox This is when David called me telling me he was by himself in my neighborhood. And so he came over and without having to try too hard convinced me to come with him to some party on S. 4th. The party wasn't too exciting. After a couple beers, we headed off to Zan's party on McKibbin Street, which was fun, but where I hardly knew anyone also. I drank more beers, some whiskey, some more beer and soon starting dancing and talking to boys I thought were cute. Um, mainly Daniel, whose costume was tastelessly a gay hate crime.
It was already late in the evening when we left, leaving because the party was starting to clear out. I mean it was late or it wasn't because of the time change, one or the other, and either way, there was still some bar time left in there and so the two of us walked to Metropolitan, which was just about as exciting as it has ever been. Last night had the same energy that bars have on gay pride days, the anticipation of sex just fills the air, the room is packed full of people who normally don't come out and it was awesome. I am a fairly self-deprecating person and so for me to say that last night I probably could have slept with anyone there is not wishful thinking. I got hit on more last night than I have in probably the past six months combined. Dude, if you want action, wear tights and booty shorts and you've got your pick of the bar. And so I was being pretty picky, ignoring people that hit on me that normally I would have been interested in.
Some girl took my picture and then asked if David was my Tinkerbell. I told her I wished and so then she giddily confirmed that I was single and told me she had my honey. And I asked her if it was really my honey or if it was vinegar. She told me that it was the later and so I went and talked to this boy and there was no seat on the bench next to him and he told me to sit in his lap and there was something so forward about this boy in a really charming way and he was cute and so after about two minutes of conversation, he asked me if I wanted to come to his house. And I said Maybe, and of course there was never really any maybe about it. We left and went back to his house. Ryan is his name. Not the Ryan that I met the other night. He had these sort of far apart blue eyes that reminded me of Jacob Dylan and dark brown hair and pale skin and the contrast of all these things, the blue, the near black, and the pale white looked so gorgeous. We lied in his bed in our underwear talking for a while with legs touching and soon enough kissing happened and soon enough the underwear came off.
And when I pulled his dick out from his underwear, I was surprised because it was so large and so pretty and I sucked his dick for a long time, his legs wrapped tightly around my neck and I was lost in this physical act and I could say that either I was forgetting or remembering something, maybe myself. Either way, it was pretty awesome. It was also my first time having sex with the lights on in quite a long time. It was nice and different. Eventually, tired and losing interest, just wanting to sleep, I made him sit on my chest and jack off for me, perform. And why watching this jack off performance turned me on way more than the actual contact with him, I am not sure, there are reasons, obviously. But we both came and I was a mess, drunk, tired, dried sweat in my hair and the jizz of two bodies on me.
I wiped off the jizz with his towel sitting on his bed, him standing in front of me, and I admired this gorgeous penis right in my line of vision, talked about something with him, got dressed, did not bother to put back on my tights or Peter Pan cap. And I left, kissing him goodbye. We didn't exchange numbers, and out of some notion of politeness, I thought for a moment that I should get his number as I was leaving and then I squashed that thought, accepting that I can have casual sex and not have to desire something else attached to it. It felt really nice to walk home with that thought, tights dangling from my hand, and me trying to figure out how this time change worked, what difference it would make if it were five or it were six.
Today, I was unable to hold that pride in sexual freedom and fretted whether or not this boy might have felt slighted since I did not sleep over and made no offer to exchange numbers, even though, I am pretty sure it was what he wanted also, just to get off with another body. He also had this scar going down the middle of his stomach that was so beautiful and for that reason I was so glad the lights stayed on, that I could see it occasionally, this tattoo of fragileness. I thought about this a lot, recalled his body and our interactions, played them out in my head today as I made a gigantic breakfast with Adele and then went with her and Jordan on a car ride with the windows open, that gorgeous breeze on my skin, and as I wandered around Park Slope in the setting sun in and out of various small stores.