I went to meet up with Robert at my new favorite bar, XES. As I walked, I noticed that the hem of my pants was badly stained yellow-ish brown, and I practically fainted with embarrassment. What happened there? I haven't worn these pants in so long (they are among my "punishment pants" that I've kept to remind myself how fat I got a year ago). I kid you not, it looked like I had stepped in poop. But I reasoned that this gave me much-needed "street cred," and I kept walking, head held high.
I wanted to blog about walking around in poopy pants, but then Robert put his feet into the pic, too - so it turned into a different pic, and a different post.
The last guy I photographed with our feet together for my outfit blog - I'll call him "N" - performed a wonderful dance last week at Dixon Place. I texted him with gushing praise afterwards, but, as usual, he kept his own counsel. Whenever I contact someone that I know with gushing praise and don't get much in the way of response, it feels like I am teetering on the edge of a cliff, about to topple over! I will keep my praise to myself in the future - I'm learning that it doesn't pay to be as friendly as I've become. Must ... grow ... colder ... to keep up with the gays. I am grateful that I went to that performance, though - I stopped off afterwards at a nearby, nearly empty gay establishment, and made a weird new friend. Perhaps there will be a picture of his shoes and mine in a future post, but perhaps not. Either way, I didn't use exclamation points in my texts with him. See? Growing colder already! :)
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