like rabbits

or rather, bunnies. Easter seemed more a diluvian event this year and instead of the Easter Bunny we expected to see animals lining up two by two. The Sisters hosted their annual festivities indoors at the Eureka Valley Community Center, which I hear was fun but crowded.

My friend Todd hosted a Bonnet Brunch part at his place, but with all the hub and bub I've been dealing with of late I decided not to spend the bulk of Lent working on a theme hat and just put something together that was pretty and only slightly over the top. He was also kind enough to let me bring in some strays.

I ran into fellow Davidson alum Duncan at the Nasty fundraiser at the Powerhouse the Friday night before. He had brought along a trio of southern boys he had met earlier at 440. In true southern fashion, we started talking and sharing. It turns out they all are visiting from Nashville (not all actually from Nashville, but live there now), so I naturally turned into "host mode." They had planned to spend Saturday touring wine country and I offered to send them a list of what was fun for Saturday night and Easter Sunday. He sent me a text/e-mail on Saturday and I gave them the rundown.

And ran the Southern Check. There is enough social in the South that everyone is less than six-degrees separated, and much, much less in the gay world. It took me exactly one call to get the 411 on these guys. granted, that call was to Keith, who knows (or of) every gay person throughout Middle Tennessee and parts of Kentucky. Between the two of us, we've got the network covered.

Not only had Keith heard of Wayne, Wayne is the long-time ex of Keith's current partner.

Small. World.

Wayne and Chris and a friend in tow, a six-foot slab or pretty pretty muscled man flesh named Bryan. Bryan had recently moved in with Wayne and Chris "in the city", because he just moved out of his home with his family in Mount Juliet. And by "family," I don't mean his parents. No, in true southern fashion, men are forced by family and Jesus to conform and marry and procreate and then deal with the fact that they are raging homosexuals. In the scheme of things Bryan's been gay for about five minutes (an honestly it was reported at something like six weeks to six months). He's still very new and kept making comments about "the gay world" and how things are done there/here. That struck me rather profoundly as it is so Southern, or perhaps just Small Town for there to be a gay world with rules of behavior (i.e. bitchy comments, loose wrists, loose morals, and lots of working out) and a straight world and straight rules (church on Sundays, voting Republican). Out here on the west coast, it more of just "the world" with gay people in it and straight people in it and I'll meet you at the bar after church.

When I forced his top button open on the tight polo shirt over his broad, broad chest, he asked "Oh, is this how it's done in the gay world? Is this gay now?" I answered without thinking and said, "It's not so much 'gay' as it is "no longer '1954.'"

Todd's company trends largely to the largely muscled and the fresh meat was eagerly welcomed as such. And with enough other former southerners, including Nashvillians, in the mix, no one was wanting for company.

We were wanting for bonnets though. This was billed as a bonnets' required brunch and I thought I might have to outfit my guests before arriving. As it turns out, there were only a half dozen bonnets among the 40 or so guests. Pretty bonnets to be sure, but hardly the Beach Blanket Babylon constructions I am accustomed to at Dolores Park.

I did take pleasure in inspiring the host to create something special and thematic this year, and I have to say I was impressed by the title of his chapeau:



Phallus in Wonderland.

Nice.

And oddly appropriate for the festival of Eostre.