Go Be A Gay Man


For awhile.

Go have fun, don’t focus on anyone person, meet face to face.

All the good suggestions.

Lighten up.

Have fun.

Don’t get into any one person.

Ok then.

I can do that.

I am allowed to have fun, be sexy, be flirtatious, have a good time, get it.

Get it girl.

I did have some fun last week.

And no, it was not the horrendous Tinder date I went on.

No.

Someone else.

However, it seems it was a one time deal, haven’t heard much from the gentleman since the date.

But it was fun.

And I have to say, I needed the kissing.

I could use some more.

And the best thing?

I did not meet him online.

Nope.

Ha.

Met him at the grocery store.

That’s where it’s at.

Not necessarily the produce aisle, although every time I’ve gone back to Other Avenues this past week I have looked over the avocados with great fondness.

It’s in the face to face, not the screen to screen.

I have no skills online.

Not that I always have great skills in person either, but then again, I know whether or not I am attracted to the person.

I was attracted to Mister Avocado.

It was pretty obvious.

He was attracted to me, and we flirted, made friends, made a cafe date, and had a sexy little walk down and back to the beach.

It was good.

I will not soon forget being told by a man how beautiful and sexy I am.

“You are decimating me with sexiness.”

Love it.

I’ll decimate you again baby, give me half a chance.

However.

I was told to not focus on anyone person, go have fun, continue meeting people, again, like I said, face to face, no online silly shit, and well, be a gay man for a little while.

Flirt.

Be sassy.

Dance.

Be daring.

Be darling.

I can be all these things.

I look forward to more fun, more lightness and definitely more sexy.

I get to keep putting myself out there and letting myself be seen and also engaging when I am flirted with.

“I really like your glasses, where did you get them,” Mister Outer Avenues asked bottle of eco friendly laundry detergent in hand.

I was fondling the avocados as I mentioned before.

I didn’t even look up.

“Optical Underground,” I said, not curt, but a bit blunt.

He said something else, then I looked up.

Whoa.

Nice eyes.

Really nice eyes, great smile, engaging, pleasant, present.

And then I realized, oh shit, he’s flirting with me, um, flirt back?

Yes!

Flirt back.

I did, it worked, as you probably already figured, and we met later that night at Java Beach for tea and getting to know you fun.

It was fun.

Indeed.

I haven’t, however, had follow up.

So.

I need to keep connecting and letting myself connect.

I need to also look up and not always so much inside, and I don’t mean not focusing on what my heart sees, but that constant internal conversation my brain will have with me.

“Hey, are you thinking about me, I’m thinking about me, you should spend some more time thinking about me, hey, are you listening, I’m talking here!”

That inner crap will keep me so wrapped up in my own little world I will miss the avocado men in the grocery aisle admiring my frames.

How many men have I missed out on wandering about the world in my own small bubble of egocentricity?

God only knows.

Too many, I am sure.

Then again, it’s all God’s time anyhow, nothing is ever on my schedule.

Although, sometimes when things are on your mind, like, um, say Burning Man, the Universe seems to read me well, loud and fucking clear.

Yes.

That’s right.

Mary Fucking Poppins may be riding again.

Or at least opening her parasol once more on the dusty plains of the playa.

I started writing affirmations about going to Burning Man a few weeks ago.

Yeah.

I know.

It’s February.

But.

It takes planning, and negotiating, and work.

It doesn’t just poof happen.

Then again, ha, it sort of does for me, now that I think about it.

Poof.

Text message from a mom I used to nanny for, “Hey are you still looking to playa nanny this year?”

Um.

Hell yes!

This would mean ten years in a row.

A decade of Burning Man.

It would mean 8 years of being a Burning Man nanny.

First year I was just a participant, although I volunteered enough for the Cafe that they asked me to come back with them the following year–of course the following year I was on playa with my first, most specialist, most delicious, Junebug–and one year, the year I moved to Paris for six months, I was a fluffer for Media Mecca–which was like being a nanny for adults in a weird kind of way.

The mom said she thought of me immediately and wanted to connect me with the family and it would be two kids, which I have never done, but the ages are such that I probably could swing it, which means, they are young and still nap.

I don’t know the family that I would be nanny’ing for, but the mom said they were personal friends and I totally trust the referral.

I am pretty fucking lucky.

I have been given permission, suggested strongly, to get out there and get my sexy on and I have an offer for employment at Burning Man?

Fuck yeah.

Also.

I filled up my gas tank tonight on my scooter for $1.50.

Bwahahahaha.

Got to love it.

Gas for a week for a dollar less than a ride on the MUNI.

Weather in the 70s for the next ten days.

Yoga.

Sunshine.

Love.

Burning Man.

Luckiest girl in the world.

Come and get it.

You know you want to.

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