That thing so good, you’ll never have it…

He’s that boy, for me at least.  He’s the one I knew I’d never have and I always wondered what it’d be like if I did.

He’s beautiful.  Completely.  He’s pretty in that Instagram, bartending-in-only-underwear way, and every detail is perfect.  The first time I met him was nearly a year ago. He was behind the bar making drinks for the crowd around him and I watched him for a moment.    I remember wondering to myself what kind of crazy perfect person I would have to be able to get next to the likes of him.

He is a very talented musician who is already well on his way to success – and hell bent on it.  He’s that kind of million-twidder-followers popular.  He knows every gay in the city (and I mean every single one), and most gays in other cities.  

The second time I met him was at his house (no, it’s not what you’re thinking).  I was with a friend who works with him at the club during a small gathering.  I casually asked him about his music and we ended up sitting on a couch chatting for awhile.  When I gave an awkward look he smiled and asked, “What?”

“I was just thinking about asking you to play for me.  I mean I don’t expect you to but…”

He interrupted me and said, “Sure, I’ll play for you.”

As I stepped through the doorway into his room I still had that thought of him in the back of my mind.  “I wonder what it would be like to kiss someone that beautiful…”  (Not that I ever would…)

He pulled out a black guitar and while he played the voice that came from him fit perfectly – it was beautiful.  He then showed me around, talking me through various recording equipment and discussing his plans to add more.  He sat down in front of a keyboard and toyed around with it for a moment.  I had my phone in my hand and took a picture of him playing.  He smiled and said, “What’s that?”

Just toying around...

Just toying around…

“I want to remember this, and I sort of take photos everywhere I go.”  He smiled and continued to play, pausing briefly to pull me towards him and wrap my arms around his chest.  I could feel the sound of his voice moving from his body into mine as he sang.  My whole upper body vibrated to the sound of his voice and I’m pretty sure I was trembling a bit.  Still playing, he turned and looked at me.

Then, he kissed me.

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A Message From Atop the Bar

Tonight I am off work, and I have plans.  More often than not, I call my friends and they have already planned my evening.  Tonight is no different.  They have decided that we are going to a bar downtown.  It’s within walking distance of the bestie’s apartment and it’s a somewhat seedy, hipster / gay, fairly popular place to get completely knackered.  Tonight will be interesting though, as Wednesday night there is referred to as “Techno Dance Night” and things tend to get a little wild – to put it mildly.  Just imagine rush-hour traffic without the cars, where everyone’s drunk, and that’s what it’s like.

The last time I went on a Wednesday, I woke up with an epic hangover – the kind that makes you feel as if you were put into a barrel and pushed down several flights of stairs.  That morning (by “morning” I do mean 2pm) a friend was showing me photos that he had taken the night before.  I stopped at a picture of a few guys dancing on the bar.  It was a somewhat blurry photo (he had certainly gotten his drink on that night), and I asked him who they were.  “Well, the boy on the right – that’s Chris, the middle one is my friend Keith,” and as he pointed to the third boy, who was shirtless, he said, “and that’s you.”  Oh dear…

Just then, a moment of clarity took place.  When I awoke shortly before, I became aware of an itch around my midsection.  I reached into my blue and yellow Express briefs and pulled out a dollar bill.  It had undoubtedly been inserted there while I was doin’ my thing above the crowd.

DISCLAIMER:  Don’t get me wrong – I’m not a terribly constant party animal, a drunk, or a drug addict.  I don’t do this often.  However, I wholeheartedly believe that there is no shame – NO SHAME – in letting loose from time to time.  Do what you’re going to do, and keep in mind that worrying about what other people think has never done any good for anyone.  Anyone who has ever lived in the wealthier part of the suburbs and gotten the hell outta’ there (and I have) will agree with me.  Cruel Intentions is a great movie, until you’ve lived it (but that’s a story for another time).

So, as I’m sitting here with my laptop, sipping on the finest Chardonnay that $12.99 can buy, I wish you all a happy and pleasantly eventful Wednesday evening.  Mine certainly will be – of this much I’m sure.