I had the oddest non-date of my life yesterday. It was a guy from gay.com who I'd started chatting with only a few hours earlier but we were both feeling adventuresome and said, screw it, let's meet up. I call it a non-date because there is always a possibility of something but no one really knows what the hell is going on, cause we've only "known" each other for a few hours. So we met up and he was very nice, talkative and disarmingly good looking. Not because he was that spectacular, but most of the people floating around cyberspace don't get mistaken for tom cruise in a hat. So it was fine, and I wasn't feeling overly talkative. I was engaging, I guess, but not by normal witty self. I just started realizing how odd the entire situation was. Most people develop relationships (broad sense) because of a common social situation such as school, work, or recreation. However in this case, the only ties that bind (bound?) were the fact that we were two young gay guys sick of being trolled on by DOMs (Dirty Old Man...s). I mean, we could still talk about musicals for twenty minutes but it just felt unatural, and this isn't a comment on him because he was very good at suddenly coming up with a new topic or keeping the conversation alive. I don't know what compelled me but as we were walking to my car, I said, "I'm sorry if I've been less than upbeat, but for some reason this is feeling very unatural to me." And I told him why, all the while thinking to myself, "What the fuck are you doing?! You are actually telling a guy that the past hour and a half as been completely weird. You are SO never allowed out into society again!" But then he did the weirdest thing, I just kind of went there with me, and we totally started talking about it, and I'm not sure if he totally got it, but I could tell that he was really trying to. We ended up saying goodnight twenty minutes later and he said that I'd like to call me. Dunno if he ever will. I'd love to say I don't care, but I do a bit. However, above that, it was an absolutely odd experience.

Watched Saved! again. Made breakfast. chatted a bit. I'm feeling kind of depressed, which is not a new emotion, but one I haven't experienced in a while. I've been really content recently. Not uber-happy, but not down. Just kinda steady, and I guess anything on either sides of the spectrum can rock that. I suppose the downside to being so GAH (passionate) about everything is that you can live this very manic-depressive existance, but since everything has been so steady for the past few months I've gotten into this psychological state of meh-ness. I can't remember the last time I was really HAPPY about something; I think it was the Orville thing and that was almost three months ago (the competition).

Last nights festivities threw me off for some reason. I've taken to putting myself only in situations where I know I'll be fairly compatible; where I can control the variables, at least to a degree. And a big street party is sooo not one of those places. So much liquor, and noise, and rudeness, and pretty people. I forgot how many good looking people there are. It's rather humbling. I know it shouldn't matter, but to say it doesn't at all is just delusional.

And this day-after exhile thing is really not working so well. So if any of you know and love David, call him, cause this kinda blows.

As people, we are victms of abuse everyday. Ironically, we are also the victimizers, so I suppose things come full circle, but still. I myself am included in this support group; people treat me like crap all the time! And yes, I'm assure there's some give or take there. I was blown off today. I was harassed by drunken baffoons. I got thrown into a door by more drunken baffoons. I left my bag at a second cup and I will present the consequent interaction in both what was actually said (and I what I was thinking).

Me: Hi, I think I left my bag here.

Awful Coffee-Hawking Shill: You know, you really shouldn't leave your stuff just lying around.

Me: Yeah, well, I went to watch the fireworks and I guess I kinda...(Really? Cause I was kinda thinking it could be a new trend. Like, leaving your bag in a run down, Yanni-playing, whipped-cream-charging bean hole could be the new black this fall.)

ACHS: What did it look like?

Me: It's black. (It looks like the only bag you've found in the last five minutes, dumbass.)

ACHS (looking at my bag on the floor): Does it have a rolled up newspaper in it?

Me: Um, yes? (No, mine is the black bag you've found in the last five minutes with a rolled up can o' whup ass in it.)

ACHS: Here you go.

Me: Thanks. (I fucking hate you. I hope you choke on one of your seventeen dollar pastries you commie bastard.)

I can't believe that happened. I can't believe that I was shamed by the 25 year old son of a Second Cup owner. Mostly, I can't believe that it bugged me so much that I felt the need to write about it. Like those guys that yelled, "Fag!" as they passed. I shouldn't care. They'll wind up cleaning sewers or something. But still, it's just wrong. Alcohol should not be an excuse for being an asshole. If I was someone who didn't drink, that would totally be my reason why: "Actually, I don't drink. I'm protesting all the assholes that do and shout 'Fag' at people." (I don't know why I capitalize Fag, like it's some sort of diety or something...?)

In other news, I bought a second Tori Amos CD. *sigh* And so it begins...