Saturday, May. 04, 2002 / 6:52 p.m.

~Mexican Male Nudity and Beer - My Date With Skipper~

Two and a half beers last night and it would appear I am mildy hungover. I am such a lightweight. Really, I don't feel ill, I think I'm just tired because I slept almost 12 hours.

Yesterday, late, at work, we'd been finished with our work for a couple hours, the phones have been outrageously slow the past few days, or weeks, and it being Friday, well, Lulu and I got really silly. I couldn't help but think of the balloon incident, of how we get punchy on Fridays when it's slow, about how the Site Manager had said it was so unprofessional and we KNEW we shouldn't have been playing balloon volleyball, that anyone could have come by, even she, with a Tour of people, but that is such absolute crap, and I think about it all the time.

Fridays at 5:15, Fridays from 5:00 to 6:00, there is NO management staff on site, much less a fucking Tour. And I'd said to the Site Manager, "Compared to half the stuff that goes on in our department, that was not really unprofessional". Grrrrrr.... it makes me so angry just to think about what hypocrisy goes on at that place, how insane it all is.

Anyway, Lulu and I were punchy as hell. I had on my silly groovy shirt from 6th grade, I'd brought in my 6th grade class photo after lunch to show a couple people, and everyone had seen it! Even the Manager (M), and she said I needed to put meat on my bones (assuming that if I haven't grown since 6th grade there's something wrong with me, blah, blah) and I said, "You're just jealous", because she never lost the weight after her last child was born, almost 3 years ago (!), and she is a cow and is jealous, yes. She said, "You're right!". Yes, I know.

Point could be this, I hit puberty at 11. I got my first period. I was sexually curious from age 10, or earlier. By the time I got my first period I'd already been to 3rd base. Yes, 3rd base. That's a finger inserted into the vagina. Hah! With a girl, and a boy. Whee! I had breasts, I had pubic hair, I had hair under my arms and on my legs, and yes, I was as tall as I am now. I think.

Besides, if I'd bought a 30 year old shirt at a Thrift Store, you'd say, "Oh, cool! Where did you get that shirt? It's how old? Oh, wow, it's Vintage!". Your only problem, issue, whatever, is that I was actually WEARING this shirt 30 years ago.

So, we'd been through this, and they didn't let up. Vacillating between jealousy, envy, and a certain hatred, "Don't hate me because I'm beautiful", or not, but we were silly too. And I pointed out my latest weird body thing, the extra skin on the backs of my elbows. I came out about it, said, Hey, look at this, how can I get rid of this, isn't it ugly? And Kukla had gone on about how I have "extra meat", and I said, "But it's good eatin'! Just batter it up and fry it!", and everyone laughed at everything.

But Lulu and I have this rapport, despite her betrayal of me, despite me never trusting her again, she is there, she sits right across from me, I talk to her, she makes me laugh, I make her laugh, I even tell her secrets, still, we still share, we have this thing, and well, we had fun. That's all.

I got a Hot Ham 'N Cheese from Hardee's, came home and gobbled it, checked email, as I obsessively do, but I get a LOT, so hey, and I went out to meet Skipper, worrying about being exactly on time, then worrying he wouldn't be, and wondering how we'd relate. But all was well. I was on time, he was early, in the Pub next door to the theatre, and he'd bought our tickets, he smuggled in his "hard cider", and once inside we played Galaga (the Pac Man was taken), and I got the high score, reveled in entering my initials. On Skipper's turns he couldn't hand me his bottle fast enough, he would get hit by a bomb before he even touched the joystick.

We saw "Y Tu Mama Tambien", and on the way to meet him I made myself laugh, all alone in my car driving down the Interstate, thinking "Yo Mama Tambeen!", so I'd told him, first thing, and he laughed too. A lot! Which made me laugh again, and I was glad it wasn't just leftover punchiness.

The movie opens with a couple having sex. Totally naked. On a bed under a poster for "Harold and Maude", but it's French, "Harold Et Maude", and I was so struck by the poster I was distracted from watching to see that really his penis was not inside her, of course, this was not hardcore porn, just a fairly realistic movie about a couple of best friends in Mexico.

Skipper said, "Now THAT's the way to start a movie!", and we laughed. We laughed a lot. It's a very funny movie. A very sexual movie. A very uninhibited look at men, at men who are good friends, men who share everything, men who shower together and make fun of each other's penises. Young men who probably would prefer to be having sex with each other than their girlfriends who've just gone off for a European vacation, but end up on a road trip to some fictional beach with a hot Spanish woman. She's just in Mexico from Spain, with her husband, and once he confesses cheating on her she takes off with these two young men, really just out of high school, I think, okay, they're BOYS, not men, but still.

Skipper said afterwards, "Yeah, it was good. It was HOT!", and I said, in my clinical way, "Yes, it was erotic, wasn't it?".

But it had a horrible ending, or maybe realistic. And I was thinking today about my relationship with a co-worker at the bookstore..... we became fast friends. I went with her to get her big back tattoo, took pictures, we went out dancing, we cooked together, she spent the night one time, we hung out in pajamas, and I helped her color her hair. One night, after drinking, we decided we both wanted to have sex, with each other, but she said she'd been there before, in that exact situation, and it ruined her friendship with someone else. So we wouldn't. Of course the last time I saw her she was with a woman, she is now an uncloseted lesbian, but at the time, well, something ruined our friendship, she confessed her love for me, and I was unsympathetic.

Still, the point is, if you're not homosexual, if you're just experimenting, and you're afraid of your own bisexuality, you can ruin your friendship by following your desires.

And the scene in the movie where the two young men finally have sex with the hot Spanish woman, together, well, okay, that's my fantasy! I told Skipper it's every woman's fantasy and that the movie was really a woman's movie, but this was after he had said it was HOT, so I backed up immediately. Well, yes, it was hot, but hey, when have you seen so much male sexuality displayed up there on screen in such an open, unselfconscious way, and not in a homosexual way, not at all? Never.

Oh, there's a great diving board scene. I won't spoil it for anyone, but oh my god. See this movie, okay?! I want to see it again, not just for that scene, but because it was in Spanish, and my Spanish is really rusty, and there's this narration that is intermittent and I missed a lot, I know. It was easier with "Amelie" (which is STILL showing at theatres here, and I am SO tempted to see it a FOURTH time!!!!!!), because my French is actually pretty good.

Well, afterward we walked up to three different Pubs, one was actually a groovy looking Tapas restuarant, but it was packed, so we went to an old standby up the street, a very old Tavern, and drank Bass Ales and Skipper had a cheesburger (I wasn't hungry after my ham and cheese), and we talked and talked and talked, and talked.

Turns out he just turned 60 on Thursday. And he had laryngial cancer five years ago. Do I spell that correctly? Not cancer, but laryngial? Probably not. And he played in a jazz band, in Europe, in the 60s. And he saw Miles Davis in concert. And he's got a 32 year old daughter, and grandkids, fraternal twins. And he does drink a lot, but he's way into healthy stuff. Food (skip the cheeseburger and onion rings, it was his Birthday celebration!), and Yoga retreats (he teaches Yoga), and lots more.

We talked about 9/11, conspiracies, the hypocrisy of the CIA, the crap that is George W. Bush (and I stumbled over his name, can barely say it, he disgusts me so). We talked activism, politics, food, workouts, how to have good posture, my job, his advertising consultant work, the product he developed, etc., etc., etc., it went on. We closed the place.

I came home after 2:00, maybe 2:30, watched some TV, fed the cats some canned food because I ran out of dry, Norma ate and threw up, and threw up, and threw up, and then she threw up some more. I felt so bad for her, so sorry that I'd run out of their normal food and fed her this canned food that upset her stomach. But Gladys was fine with it.

Norma is okay now. I went out a little while ago and bought more food and she ate for the first time since all her throwing up. She's sleeping it off.

I also washed dishes today, several week's worth of piled up utensils, many mugs and plates. Why do I wait so long?

So, I guess I'm being productive, I guess I'm getting out more, I guess things are okay. There's a dinner tonight, right near where we went last night actually, at the oldest diner in town, I think, for an Italian woman who's a member of the action center - she's going back to Italy - but I don't know her that well, and though I got an email invitation, I think I'm going to stay here. I noticed Sandy got the same email invitation, and I'm tempted to call him up, see if he's going, and I'm tempted to call him up anyway, I owe him that, I think, but I'm holding back. I'm not ready.

Strangely enough, last night while I was with Skipper, I thought a lot about Sandy, thinking that maybe I wanted to be with him. That maybe I want to BE with him, or that maybe I just wished things had gone differently, that maybe there is no one I really do want to BE with, so it's hard to pretend with anyone. I wished I was out with someone I was close to, and I'm not close to anyone, so for a moment, it hits me, that feeling that I have no connection, but I let it slip away, try to enjoy the moment. And I think I did.

I caught the tail end of "The Osbournes" repeated today, and it was very funny. I have more TV I need to watch. Yes, I "need" to. I feel the need to sit, to vegetate, to clear my head, to just zone out a bit. TV is very relaxing, er, watching it, that is.

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