I love Sunday afternoons in the Spring. The flowers and trees are in full bloom, the weather is absolutely beautiful, and everyone is in a great mood.
For some people, Spring Sundays are for lounging around in the back yard with a pitcher of sweet tea, a frisbee, some laid back music, and a playful, silly dog.
For others, Sundays are prime hook up days.
In several cities that I've been to, the gays come out in droves on Sunday. In my city, for example, when the weather is nice, the bars are more packed on a lazy Sunday afternoon than on a Thursday or Friday night.
The clubs with outdoor patios are especially wild.
A couple months ago, my friends and I hit the Strip hard on a Sunday.
Earlier that morning, I'd gone to church with my buddy Brian, so I was in a particularly upbeat mood when Brian and I met our friends BOB and Neo for our weekly brunch at an Italian restaurant with all-you-can-drink mimosas, bellinis, and Bloody Mary's for $6.00.
Neo, who I'd dated a few weeks before, still acted little standoffish towards me when I sat down at the table. The awkwardness lingered through the entire brunch, but I didn't let his attitude spoil my good mood, or anyone else's.
Two hours, five mimosas, and a bowl of mac and cheese later, BOB and Neo drag the rest of us to the Strip.
I can't believe what I see.
The bar with the rooftop patio is packed solid. I mean, it looks like Animal House up there. Gays are practically hanging from the rafters and the railings, sloshing beer and mixed drinks around like it's Saturday night.
After going to church earlier that morning, I feel a little dirty, but to be completely honest, it looks fun up there.
And it is fun, for a while.
Brian, Neo, and I grab beers from the bartender while BOB works his magic throughout the room.
Within minutes, BOB finds a guy who catches his eye, and the flirting begins.
The rest of us sit back and watch him in action. Usually, this happens when the sun goes down. It's sort of entertaining, if not slightly disturbing, to see BOB in full-out mack mode in the middle of the afternoon.
While BOB flirts with a tall, thin guy decked out in outrageous $500 designer jeans, the rest of us fight off a pack of "ankle biters." As a rule, ankle biters are vertically challenged. But not all shorter gays fall into this category. They must (1) have attitudes stemming from the short man's complex and (2) be very loud and aggressive. They usually run in packs of four or more, and descend on their targets in mass.
One of the ankle biters is after me.
He's Hispanic and has nice facial features, but I'm not interested in the least, especially after he spills his beer down the sleeve of my shirt after jerking on it like a five-year-old to get attention.
After thirty minutes, we finally fight off the ankle biters and weave through the crowd on a BOB hunt.
We find BOB standing by the railing with lips all over Brent, one of his regular hookups.
They're kissing, but the groping is pretty minimal, which I think is odd. I figure that BOB must still be sober or, instead, trying to be a bit more discreet because of the daylight.
Regardless, Brian and I decide to head home and leave the other guys to the wolves.
The next morning, I get the full scoop when BOB calls me at my office.
Apparently, Brent invited BOB and Neo over to a friend's house to watch Desperate Housewives. The owner of the house made out with Neo on the couch until Neo invited some random hookup of his over.
When the hookup showed up and started making out with Neo, the owner of the house got really angry and told everyone, including Brent and BOB, to leave.
No one went anywhere, however, because BOB and Brent were busy.
While BOB was urinating in the bathroom, Brent came up behind him, put his hands on BOB's hips, looked over his shoulder, and watched him piss.
Brent next kissed BOB's neck very slowly.
BOB, insatiable, turned around and stuck his tongue deep into Brent's mouth.
It wasn't until BOB pulled back that he saw the wet stain all over Brent's leg. Apparently, he hadn't stopped urinating when he turned around.
BOB couldn't remember the name of the friend who owned the house or whether anyone cleaned up the piss on the floor.
When everyone finally left the house, however, BOB got some action from Brent on his own turf . . . and this time, nobody got pissed on.
That Sunday was a wild one, but even though I had a blast, I'll probably stick to the back yard for most of the rest of the year.
After all, I'm one of those guys who owns a silly dog and likes sweet tea.
Still, every once and a while, it's great fun to check out the scene on a Sunday. After all, where else can you piss on a guy and then take him home with you?
That is the funniest story I've heard in a while... OMG when Bob turned around and was still pissing I just knew that it was over... He still got lucky... What? ... This Bob must be amazing to watch in action ( not the action ) Sorry about the ankle biters... Maybe next time :) I'm partial to sweet tea and backyards myself... (ummm, I'm southern) But every now and then I like to go out and catch my swerve...
Great Blog
(SYN)
Posted by: Synrgy | April 25, 2007 at 06:27 AM
Oh wow. Pissing on me is a big no no. Although I have been a bit forgiving of vomit but that was my ex boyfriend and it was partially my fault lol.
Jay.
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