A Trois?

[A bit of fun Friday night. When I first met John, he was thick as those thieves are supposed to be with another John, John L. John L. and my John's main bond seemed to be a love of happy hour, and John L. seemed to have a rather tight hold on my John's spirit, affection, time, energy. You know when a friend holds on so tight you have little time for anyone else?]

[It became clear fairly quickly that my John was falling fast and hard for me, and John L. was not pleased. I tried, I really did, to be friendly, and to include John L. in as many social situations as possible. I hope I've made clear that friends are extremely important to me, and that if any friend (including a lover) made me choose between him and another, I would reflexively run the other way. If there's not enough love in your heart to understand that it can be shared, and that everyone else is better off thereby, then...]

[So, John L. left our lives pretty quickly. John L. was roommates with the delightful Minerva, and my John had been staying with them temporarily when we met. As his friendship with John L. fizzled, he lost contact with Minerva as well, to his ongoing regret. He would often mention his good memories of her, in passing, but never made an effort to contact her, as he had little interest in being in contact with John L.]

[Well, about a week ago, John and I were out at the Pilsner, and who should we run into but Minerva, surrounded by a trio of gay boys, none of whom was John L. Much happy squealing and screeching ensued, and Minerva invited John and me to her "Free At Last Party." That's right, the poisonous John L. was finally moving out, and she was ready to celebrate.]

[John and I arrived chez Minerva, a great little apt in the Mission with dark woodwork built in and its own roof deck. In attendance were mostly gay men of the high-tech nerd subgenre (Minerva works in the IT dept of some big downtown corp), and a few straight couples. One of the guys attendant upon Minerva at the Pilsner was a handsome brunet named Tim. I reacquainted myself with him in the hallway as John smoked a cigarette upstairs. I joined John at one end of the deck (it was an uncharacteristically warm night for early November), and Tim joined his other friends at the other end. I heard a snippet of conversation from that end in which I thought I heard my name and the word "cute." As this doesn't happen too often, my ears pricked up, and I was hyperaware of Tim for the rest of the evening.]

[They had a permanent video link open on Minerva's bedroom PC to a couple of their friends in New York. Tim invited me in at some point to see how it worked, and we played around with the camera and microphone and talked to these drunken strangers 3,000 miles away. At some point, Tim mentioned that they'd been comparing tattoos, and I had to admit that I didn't have any (this seems as rare as leprosy in today's San Francisco). Tim showed me his, a Chinese ideogram at the base of his spine meaning "Spirit." I was just as happy at the opportunity to see a portion of bare midriff as to see the tattoo itself. Sometimes mutual attraction is just so obvious.]

[As John and I left the party, I said, "I hope you don't mind, but I really thought that Tim guy was cute." John said, "So did I." We walked out to the sidewalk, and there was Minerva, parked in a car, having what seemed to be a private conversation. John went up to her and thanked her for her hospitality. John said, "And Bill thinks Tim is cute." Minerva chortled and said, "Well, that's good, because he thinks Bill's cute, too." We all laughed and John and I trundled off to meet Patrick and the twins.]

[Well! John and I do have arrangements for these sorts of situations. We shall see...]

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