10/12/96 - Tequila Surprise

10/12/96 - 1810 Chapala

Somehow it feels like the last two weeks never happened. Back in my room in Santa Barbara, back hanging out with Max at Roma in I.V., was I even in San Francisco? Of course I was, and I have to be back there soon, but here I am for the nonce ("for the nonce?!?!") [Yeah, really!]

Michael and I took Amtrak from Oakland [to Santa Barbara] yesterday, a looooong trip, but one I've always wanted to do. It was marked by: my worry that we wouldn't make it in time for Beth's birthday party (I shouldn't have worried); listening to Michael prattle in his New Age way; actually talking a bit with him about my doubts about Gary; looking at the scenery (the coastal bit near Lompoc was as spectacular as I hoped); and reading The Moor's Last Sigh by Salman Rushdie. The civilized feeling of sharing a rail car with a British tour group (all over 50) was broken only by a couple of screaming American kids, one of whom detrained in San Jose, the other staying on until S.B.

We made it in plenty of time. Mike and Mel picked us up at the station, and we surprised Beth at her party. Everybody cool from the agency was there, getting looped. Pat Tyler handing out tequila shots was one of the most surreal moments. [She's a large, motherly, Mexican-American grandmother, and a mid-level executive at the agency. Love her.] The best moment was near the end of the evening. Beth's landlord Rob (who lives next door with his much older lover), went to turn off the lights in the third small cottage on that beautiful property. I had been unbearably attracted to him during the party, and when he left, something in me clicked. After finishing dancing with Mel, I skipped down the trail [no, not literally], and there he was in the front room, smoking a cigarette. Yippee!

I entered (he actually had to unlock the door and let me in) and we stood for a minute in the dark. I said I'd never been inside the cottage before, and would love a tour. Now, this dwelling doesn't amount to much, just a front room, a small bath, a small kitchen, and "loft" area upstairs in which one can barely stand upright.

I climbed the stairs, and, realizing I couldn't really stand, lay on the wall-to-wall carpeting. He followed my action, and there was that great split second when you know, and I kissed him. We both caught fire immediatley, buckles were undone, hands traveled up shirts and down pants, and it was hot and wonderful.

We both knew we couldn't finish, but I did suck his cock some before I pleaded social obligation, and just had to leave. We made a couple of false starts (or false finishes), but we had to kiss and grope just a little bit more. Finally, I did leave. The others had been looking for me, and I truthfully said that Rob had been showing me the loft. Century 21 should have such techniques!

It was hot, unexpected, and will almost certainly never be repeated. It is that last fact that makes the encounter, in my mind [and in my memory], one of the greatest ever. [Sometimes it's the seduction that counts, not the completion.]

So, today, Max, Michael and I went to Aficionado Bakery and the Farmers Market [Max's and my Saturday morning ritual]. We left Michael to roam S.B., and Max and I went to I.V. to get me a haircut and "do" Roma.

Tonight we'll probably go out, and tomorrow is for packing and cleaning. And then I see Gary tomorrow night. With all the stimulus I've had with so little payoff (the gay streets of S.F., sharing a futon with Rafe and Antonio, what little sexual tension exists between Michael and me, and most importantly, Rob), I am going to devour Gary. But, do I break it off come the morn? ["Come the morn?"]

[Michael was this daffy Swiss guy who was dating Rafe's roommate Steve. When I initially went to San Francisco, I just brought my car and a few belongings. The train trip back to S.B. after two weeks was to pack up all my crap into a trusty U-Haul, and drive it all up to S.F. I still hadn't found a job or an apartment: I was to leave the U-Haul parked at Mom and Dad's in Sonoma until I did. Luckily, I did find housing almost immediately. Michael accompanied me to Santa Barbara because he'd only really seen San Fran since he'd been in California.]

[It was good to go over that bit about Rob again. Going back thru old journals can be tedious, but when you hit the right entry at the right time, it can be so therapeutic.]

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