All By Myself

So, I actually followed-through last night (though not without some last minute encouragement from Vicki) and went out all by myself.

Now, this is a huge deal for me.  For, while I am quite accustomed (and do actually enjoy) taking off by myself for various and asundry reasons, or no reason at all, these solo flights have never previously involved going to a club and having a drink or two.  This is simply because I'm (perhaps overly) cautious about making sure I never lose control over myself when solo.  I enjoy being alone, but I'm not inclined to be foolish about it.

So, I drove to my club of choice in Boystown, and spent a couple hours there.  Had a drink, wallflowered myself at a particularly nice spot, and lingered for a while, pretending with another wallflower about 10 feet away that we weren't making eye contact every five minutes.

Rather suddenly, the wallflower disappeared.  I looked around without making it look as though I was looking, to see if he was playing a game with me or if he had just lost interest (probably the latter).  After satisfying myself that he was, in fact, gone and not likely to return to his spot (another flower had positioned himself there), I decided to stroll on out and go home.

As far as I was concerned, the night was over.  Not strictly because the wallflower had left, but simply because I was, in fact, rather tired; I had done what I had set out to do; and the effects of my drink had worn off sufficiently to justify driving home (not that it had been a particularly strong drink anyway, but I don't take chances on that).

I did take my time leaving, because I didn't want to seem like I was rushing off anywhere (and I wasn't).  But as I was just about to start my final drive toward the door (and open air!), someone grabbed my arm and said, "Are you enjoying yourself?"

Thus began an hour-long conversation with a guy named Chris.  Not too bad a fellow.  I met some more of his friends (Jonathan, Eric, John, Dave(?), Jess, and others).  Chris actually seems to be a very nice guy - he's in computers.  He even bought me a drink, which always lifts a person in my estimation (even though I know that at any club, gay or straight, buying a drink for someone is the international symbol for "Why don't we get drunk and screw?"  However, my defenses with regard to that are still on heightened alert after the Trevor Debacle.) 

After last call at Roscoe's, I walked with them most of the way to their next stop, because it was mostly on the way back to my car (I had already decided I was going home after Roscoe's anyway).  Chris and I did exchange numbers, and I'll probably call him tomorrow evening if he doesn't beat me to the punch. 

Admittedly, I don't know the phone etiquette.  Are you really supposed to call someone the next day?  Is it more appropriate to wait at least 24 but not more than 48 hours?  I've selected the latter simply because I am so busy so much of the time, I figure the wait is more representative of how much spare time I actually have (today has been a long road of laundry, dishes, and polishing off Our Lady of the Lost and Found).

So, stay tuned kids.  I don't know that anything will become of this Chris thing, and rather suspect that, in fact, nothing will.  But let's be proud of me for doing this!

Sidebar: I looked damn good last night, too, if I do say so myself.  I have two new favorite shirts now.  The one I wore last night, and the one that is identical to the one I wore last night, except it's a different color (both colors look awesome on me anyway )