And How Was Your Pride Weekend?

[Long and exhausting, as I suppose it's supposed to be. As usual, from Tuesday afternoon's remove, it comes in vignettes:]

[A drawn-out first appearance at the Friendly Neighborhood Cabaret on Friday night. The Out-of-Town Date (hereinafter: the Bunny) had arrived the night before, but I kept delaying rendezvous, finally getting my ass out of the D.T. Apt. at 12:30 A.M. and trudging the couple of blocks to the FNC. Yes, the Bunny was as happy to see me as I knew he would be; yes, I was glad, too, in my own way. Being single feels like being on a really restrictive diet after years of horrible and delightful eating habits. Never too much, never enough...]

[A pretty good Saturday: nookie; a long bus ride to the beach to clamber amongst the ruins of the Sutro Baths; constant, excessive wind and blowing sand. ("Nature's dermabrasion" quoth the exhilarated Bunny, who was used to the pacific Atlantic as opposed to the angry Pacific.) The ocean looked like a restless purple mountain range. "People Have Been Swept From The Rocks And Drowned," read the melodramatic (for the Park Service) sign. Nothing like seeing San Francisco thru a newbie's eyes...]

[Our day recapped that evening in delightful detail from the FNC stage. Go, Bunny!]

[The downward slope on Sunday, which I guess was supposed to be the climax. Margaritas not a good idea under the hot sun? Exhaustion from too much hyperkinetic Bunny? Would it have been different if I weren't so damned tired all the time? Anyway, at PrideFest, Allen was funny in his faux-cowboy attire ("What's the pink bandanna mean?" "DILDOS!"), I looked cuuute in my Athens-bought Italian white chemise, and we all bought cheap sunglasses and fair food. Afterward, there were goodbye shenanigans. But I was ready for it to be over.]

[Later, a follow-up phone call:
"I'm really sorry. I honestly believed we talked about it during your last visit...maybe it's 'cause I've had that talk so many times. Yeah, it's hard to get used to. Well, at least you know I wasn't kidding when I agreed that safety was nonnegotiable. OK, bye."]

[I click "End Call," consider hurling the cell phone against the far wall, decide to toss it on the bed instead and yell "FUCKING VIRUS!!!!!"]

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