In defense of cute boys, though, they really are yummy. I was sitting across from a guy on the subway who was just adorable in an amiable, straight-boy sort of way. Big puppy-dog brown eyes, a sweet look on his face, knit hat, big coat, baggy khakis. We got off at the same stop and I was on the stairs behind him, and I noticed that he was wearing tennis socks with his sneakers, even though we had another snow storm this weekend. Those unexpected glimpses of his shapely ankles as he climbed the stairs were just the perfect detail to top it all off and make me all smiley.
Day: January 22, 2001
The Usual Whine
Cute boys can be so predictable sometimes. I mean it wasn’t SO long ago that we had our tongues down each other’s mouths and our hands and whatnot on each other’s privates, and it was all very friendly and fun. Would it have been such a big breech of protocol to even say “Hi” when we unexpectedly run into each other while hanging with friends at the local watering hole? (Seriously, just a little local watering hole, not even a gay bar where this sorta nonsense is so common.) I wasn’t even trying to be all cruisy, just neighborly. Yeesh!
More support for my pet theory that all the fun, smart, goofy, polite, cute, clever, sexy guys who I’d actually get along with are having a swinging good time in some kind of hipster homo orgy commune somewhere without me. And without the usual handful of like minds I know of scattered about the place. I say we put together a search party. Who’s with me?