what is it with my friends' dates last night?

First it was the circus choreographer. And then this crazy trick. And I'm just talking about today.*

Last night, PAD (not Alert Reader Paul Day, despite the similarity of the acronym to his initials) called me from the train back from San Jose.

After midnight.

And he was hammered.

He was listening to Mika and was in danger of (1) dancing and (2) getting kicked off the train. Having been worn out post-Pride with a sore throat this week, I had curled up with my pillow and a DVD and gone to bed. I told him to call Shilpa (I am not pure evil, but I dabble). However, fairly altered and still new to the whole "cell phone" thing (Luddite), PAD kept calling me back, then dialing her number, as if he needed a dial tone. I eventually just turned my phone off.

PAD called me this afternoon and told me about the rest of his night. He detoured to the Cinch on the way home and picked someone up. They went back to his place, got naked, and started fooling around. At one point, PAD playfully (PAD claims "lightly") spanked the boy's rear end. (I qualify "lightly" as I have been on the fully-clothed business end of one of his smacks before and ouch.) According to PAD, the kid SHRIEKED then cried out, "No! That's how Daddy used to do it when he [molested] me!"

He then grabbed his clothes and fled down the stairs and into the night.

Wow.

Full sensitivity to his abuse. But wow.

Now that's an awkward date.

Then again, PAD went cruising at the Cinch. I mean, that's like shopping at the (more than one) day-old bread store. These are not the freshest baked goods.

(But may in fact be "baked," if you catch my drift.)

I am also a little creeped out as I have a vague recollection of a friend or acquaintance who hooked up with someone who could only get off if he replicated the conditions of his childhood molestations ("You have to do it like Daddy/Uncle Touchy used to do to me when I was little" sort of thing.). Which to me sounds really effed up. But I am not a mental health professional.

I'm just sayin'.

And really, my love life (or rather the lack thereof) seems so much more comforting. I'm totally grading on a curve.





*Okay, this is a pale and late-night recreation of what was a lengthy and pretty funny post. But $@#&^*!! Blogger freaking SUCKS when it comes to adding images, and DELETED the body of the post (and the saved version) when it added the image! I am so livid I could spit. Enjoy the recreation while I seethe.