Last weekend was pretty quiet. We'd decided long ago that it would be, as we're going to be out a fair bit over Easter, plus we have NY the week after. Also, The Boyf had a course in Birmingham on Monday and had decided to travel up on Sunday and stay in a hotel, so it gave me a day to chill out on my own.
The weather was grey and miserable - exactly how I like it on a Sunday when I'm at home. So I roasted myself a chicken to have with some salad, wrapped myself up in a duvet and flopped in front of the tv to watch the opening race of this years F1 Grand Prix season.
And then The Drag Queen phoned me. She'd been to Trade since 6 in the morning and was dragging herself back out into daylight at 3.45pm, along with OBM#1. Sounding remarkably fresh she then planted the seed which I was hoping she wouldn't; did I fancy going to the RVT? How was I going to be able to resist? Needless to say, two hours later I'd shaved my head, primped, plucked and generally preened and was running out the door to get a tube.
Once there I was ushered to the front of the queue and VIP'd in by the doorman so didn't have to pay - result! - and then bumped straight into a new friend of mine, who we'll refer to as The Mongol. He's short, dark, hairy and gorgeous - just how I like my men. And that's when it all gets a little bit unclear in my mind. The lovely Spanish barman offered me a Sambuca shot and then I decided it would be a good idea having one between every pint. I know I had a great time, but the further it gets into the evening the less I seem to remember. I got spectacularly drunk.
I don't remember leaving the RVT but somehow I ended up in The Hoist at midnight, on my own. The place was pretty empty. I didn't stay long, but I did still manage to… well… pleasure someone orally, to be demure about it. No idea who. I know he was slightly older with grey fair and a very fit, smooth body. I don't normally go for smooth, but he was in very good shape and I distinctly remember him having great, chewable nipples. More importantly, he was the only person to pay me any attention. Frankly I'm not surprised - I must have been quite a sight by that time in the evening.
I woke up on Monday morning with the Mother of all hang-overs and with the light still on and the hoover running, and with no idea as to how I got there. I had managed to fold my clothes up very neatly though, so it's nice to know my gayness shines through any drunken haze.
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