Tails of a 17th Street Geisha

Last week Paul, Domingo and I had a magical experience on my birthday–just a total BLAST–so much FUN–at Taint (Gay indie pop-dance monthly @ DC9). We had promised to hang out the following weekend but have fun again.

We had planned on watching hitchhiker’s guide to the universe or galaxy or whatever, and instead, I derailed our plans because the weather was too nice to stay indoors and sober. Plus, none of us really wanted to make the trek out to Georgetown (although I live in Adams Morgan, I try not to stray too far from the 17th and R area… is that I lame or what?)

Domingo, Paul and I last night at various bars… Left bank, Le’Enfan t, Larry’s Lounge…

Anyway, we went to Left Bank for a drink or three and then to Le’Enfant, where I ran into this guy who I haven’t danced with @ Cobalt in years, and who suggested we go to Ziegfield’s. Oddly enough, my friend Gianni obsesses over Secrets (the gay nude strip sister-club of Ziegfield’s, I think) and come to find out Paul’s Bulgarian "friend" Dobermeer (sp?) is also interested in this joint. So we toy with the idea of going over beer (I had a rum/diet) @ Larry’s outdoor tables. I don’t remember why I went inside to the bar, but Domingo and Paul ordered me in for some reason or another and I spotted this HOT guy at the end of the bar. (I’m sooo tempted to post the pic of him I took on my cell cam, but that’s wrong, right?)

Anyway, of course I hit on him (the old Palm reading line… hehehehe) and gave him my number. We ended up going to Townhouse Tavern so I told him to meet us there. I had no idea he would actually meet us, but he did…

I wish people didn’t really read this, because I would love to treat this blog like a real journal. I used to have a journal when I was young and had to censure myself because my suspicious mom and then-loathsome sister Jennifer would constantly dig through my shit. Once, in an effort to be the best Catholic I could be during Lent and start anew as a good Catholic girl, I wrote down all of my sins on a piece of paper: shoplifting, teaching my friends to lift, stealing from my mom’s coin bag, cursing, fooling around with boys, etc., etc., AND SHE FOUND IT. All of my 14 year old teeny bopper secrets of bad behavior were out and MY MOM FOUND IT. Suffice to say, God works in mysterious ways and now I will never ever put anything down on paper, print or web that could incriminate me (and my mom will never go shopping with me because of her fear that I will start stealing shit and she’ll go down with me!)

All of this is to say that I can’t divulge what happened after this boy and I went to Domingo’s house and after this boy came back to my house. I can give some "lessons learned" bits though:

1. Sex with strangers always seems like a good idea, but doesn’t always work out. It’s very hard to communicate sexual issues when you don’t really know the guy–is he as kinky as me? will he take it personally if I ask him to slow down? is he being nice but not really into it? I’m sure he’s also wondering if I enjoyed it, if I faked it, etc.,
2. drunken sex isn’t always as fun as it seems it would be while you’re making out with a hot person. we were having a ton of fun @ Townhouse and it totally seemed like it would translate to fun later, but it kinda didn’t.
3. don’t have sex if you’re too self-conscious. I think I killed the mood by freaking out periodically last night and the morning after. It sucks for both women and men that these unattainable, emaciated, unhealthy and airbrushed images of women are propagated as norms by the media and fucks with the self-confidence the average-jane (or Maria, in my case).
4. the morning after is SO awkward, especially if the sex wasn’t perfect (or nearly as good as it seemed it would be earlier in the night…) Here’s our dialogue:

Him: "um, so, I had a great time. thanks."

Me: "um, thanks for dropping by." (I really said that!)

Him: "yeah, so I got your number on that napkin you gave me"

Me: [said while handing him my business card] "hey, so if you need help with your job search and apply to any pro-choice feminist organizations, call me" (Granted, I knew that he had applied to Catholics for a Free Choice and other groups).

And the really sad thing is that I thought he was cool, interesting, smart, fun, nice, hot (even after beer goggles were removed the morn’ after) and one night of bad drunken sex ruined any possibility of more… at this point, it’s a little too awkward to be friends. ce’ la vie.

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