Sunny Sunday

I haven't had a chance to chat about Sunday so I'll throw up a post for the curious and inquiring.

Yes, I had a first date with TT on Sunday. We met on Easter and this was the first time we had an overlapping window of free time. I think that bodes well actually as we are clearly similarly engaged/engaging.

It was a freaky hot day in San Francisco so I set up a little blanket wine date in Dolores Park. There was nothing much to the day, but we thoroughly enjoyed lounging in the sun, watching the masses, and getting to know each other, and finding pleasant similar outlooks: such as our fluid relationship with time, sense of order/virgoness, and affinity for the Jack and ginger. I love Jack and gingers, but don't order them because I do love them, and will revel in them. That, and bourbon makes me slutty anesthetizes the part of my brain that moderates affectionate behavior. Or as Shilpa likes to remind me, I once demurred the offer of Jack because "the dark liquors make me flirty." But that's neither here not there. (Well, later, it's there.)

TT was suitably impressed by my level of preparation (unlike those who know me and who have come to expect this almost pathological level of service and preparedness). I love my wine sticks. I paid way too much for them in a little shop in Healdsburg, but have seen them since for a steal in the Red Envelope catalog. TT was impressed by these, as were any number of passerbys who asked me where I got them. TT e-mailed me that he ordered his own set Monday morning. He quickly put his order into Red Envelope as he heard that they shut there doors and laid off all their staff just last week. I was expecting a 404 on their website, and ordered an additional set when I found that they were still open and offering an additional discount.

The day ended nicely with the fun guy with the stereo bike cruising through the park playing party songs (and partial to classic Michael Jackson). Dolores Park/Beach was packed with people, and nearly all of them stood up, cheered, and started dancing.

We were too late to cop a squat high on the hill (what some girl called "the gay section" until some bears on the blanket next to us said, "Honey, it's all gay.")

I didn't take any pictures of the day (nor of me with TT as I have not yet gotten a release from him-- and not that kind of release you pervs), except this one.

WTF is going on with this guy? He had an impressive build (as did many of the shirtless boys out that day), but the bright blue, sky-patterned speedo was just all wrong. But the effed up thing here: He took off all his clothes, then added forearm sleeves and calf-warmers?

See detail:

Okay, WTF? The only rational I could conjecture was that he was trying to counteract some earlier farmer's tan from a t-shirt. And what? Clam-diggers?

Dunno. But knew I needed to take a stealth shot.

Sunday was also the 10th Anniversary of Sundance Saloon and TT knew I had plans for that. TT also had a long work night ahead of him with an online sexual harassment test thing and prep for a big week of work. So we parted company early evening jovially, but without liplock , and with a general agreement that we both had a good time and wanted to do something again.

Flash forward through the evening:

Have a wonderful time and close down Sundance. Leave there to seek out other Sundancers after-partying in the Castro. I pop into 440 and see the Trouble Brothers To'mas and Adriano waving me over wildly as if by semaphore....and

...they are drinking with TT.

A Jack and ginger for him and one for me, and we're back where we started: a Sunday night drinking whiskey and making out in the back of 440. But this time we were on the stairs—it brought him nicely to lip level.

I'm just sayin'.

I also espoused all sorts of nice things and quickly lost all armor and the pretense of cool detachment. Sweet nothing e-mails from TT Monday morning alleviated much of the shame and I believe we are on for next week—presuming we find some time to spend together.