Couple months back I had a pretty disappointing date with a man that I now refer to as Stoner Dude if and when he ever comes up in conversation.
Something that I never really admitted to most people, or on this blog, is that, Stoner Dude actually contacted me after that horrendous date, and wanted to go out AGAIN. And I, bored out of my mind and hornier than Ron Jeremy on hormones, actually agreed to try again. I didn't know what the fuck I was expecting, but the guy is hot and hey, times are tough.
A half hour before we were to meet (he was coming to my neighborhood for dinner, drinks, and a "massage". Ahem), he cancelled on me. On gchat. And didn't wait for a response. Then went offline, like, forever. I honestly didn't give a shit, it was kind of hilarious and just went to show what a colossal asshole this person really was. I, ever the grudge holder, deleted him on Facebook, and blocked him from every website and email possible. Just cuz.
For some insane reason, last week, this douchebag emailed me from an email address that I hadn't managed to block, and asked me what I was up to.
Ok. This post isn't really about any of this stuff. I guess I just needed to get all that off my chest. What I really want to talk about is this past Saturday afternoon.
Saturday afternoon I was strolling through the West Village with my friend UK. As we walked past Christopher on 7th Ave South, I saw a familiar figure hanging out on the corner. Pink button down, tucked into tight jeans, cowboy boots. Very strung out look. Clearly doing a walk of shame. Holy shit it was the Stoner Dude.
I, of course, was wearing my sweaty yoga clothes, hair on top of my head, not looking very sexy at all, and did not want to be spotted (although he probably wouldn't have even recognized me) but I sent UK over to check out the situation.
She ascertained that he was indeed in last night's clothes, and she made another interesting observation. "He's into guys."
This, coming from the diva who is a self-proclaimed fag-hag, works in the garment industry, spends summers in Cherry Grove on Fire Island, and has gaydar like nobody's business.
Hey, I have no idea if she is correct on this front, but either way, it was a lovely sight to behold, and that is just how I'm going to remember him. Cruisin' for dudes in his pink shirt, on 7th Ave South. :)