A post in which it is an unexpectedly delightful day*

I was up waaay too early this morning.  As has become my habit, I got on the phone to return messages on Growl'r and the like.  I started talking to a guy I had spoken with before.  He informed me that he 'doesn't hook up'.  Usually for gay men:

definition "I don't hook up." usually means "I have a stick up my ass the size of Missouri."

They also usually are very superior to poor mortals such as I who are subject to 'hungers of the flesh' (i.e. get horny).  But we talked and he told me he wanted to meet me, so we made tentative plans to meet later.  I sternly admonished myself, because I've been mooning around about not having a date, and here this guy was offering a date.  So I said OK.  Then I went back to sleep for a while.

I woke up fifteen minutes before I was supposed to be at that shop for Russ to cut my hair.  Now I have never been in that shop without waiting at least half an hour to get in the chair, but if I'm late, Russ gives me a ration of shit about it.  So I'm running around the house like a crazy person.  I did get out the door, but I had no time for a shower, and my hair looked like the Heat Miser. 

I had plenty of time to cool my heels and catch up on messages while I waited at the shop.  My friend Wayne was there, and we traded stories about our trials with the health care system while we waited.  That's what old people do.  He's a really nice guy, and I'm upset for him.  He has a big hurt coming his way, and everyone seems to know it but him.  It's awful, but it isn't my place to say anything. 

Eventually I got to the chair, and Russ pretty much scalped me.  I think he was trying to get my crazyhair to look like something, but it was so all over the place he really couldn't get a good cut on it.  He ended up by putting five pounds of product in it, and parting it on the wrong side, which is his new thing.

When I got home, I firmed up plans for lunch with 'don't hook up guy', whose name is Larry.  I decided if he was a snot, I could bail after lunch and wouldn't lose a Saturday night (as if I had big possible alternative plans for tonight, but I digress).

While I was getting ready to go, I had a text from Chuck.  When I explained that I had a date, he was reproachful.  Sigh.  So I told him we had to talk.  At that point, he immediately sent me a text basically saying that he knew I wasn't his 'real friend', etc., and started pouting.  I'm thinking what are you six?   I tried to call him, but he was too pussy to pick up the phone and talk to me, so I was forced to lay things out via text.  1) We're both tops. (hello); 2) He doesn't know what he wants and I do; 3) He's deep in the closet, and there is not a man on earth who would induce me to go back into the closet. So then he goes into this drama queen thing, and I was like fine.  Whatever.  If you walk away, that's fine, but I'm willing to be your friend.  But I'm NOT willing to be at your beck and call, and I'm not going to feel guilty for living my life, dating, or doing things without you because you're too closeted to do them.  I do feel sorry for him.  I'm sure he's lonely.  But these are choices he has made.  I understand why he made them, but I'm not going to pay for them along with him.  I've paid my own price to not have to live the way he does.  I'm not paying twice. 

I met Larry at Pita House (which was more like a mad house today, btw - it was like they were giving away free money) and had a great lunch.  I am crazy for their falafel, and they make the best hummus I have ever tasted. 

I liked Larry.  After a little bit he opened up and we found out that we knew a lot of the same people back in the bar days.  We hit it off.  I had met him at Pita House for a reason.  I had an alternate plan.  He told me that he liked antiques, and I had decided if things went well, we could do a mini-run down Mauldin Road.  Since things were going well, we went.  The first stop was at the new Miracle Hill Thrift Store.  This was a new one, and I had been itching to get in there anyway.  It was OK, and I always love a thrift store, but I didn't find anything.  I did see some glass though, and I felt all primed up and ready for a good rummage. 

Next we went out to Sue's Antiques.  I hadn't been there in a while.  They had a sherbet dish and saucer that someone was trying to sell as a 'mayonaise set' (for an exorbitant price) for a long time, and I wanted to see if it was still there.  It wasn't, which made me wonder if they had closed that booth, or if someone had actually gotten taken, but of course there was no way to find out.  We had a good rummage, but I found only one thing I wanted, and it was chipped so I didn't buy it.  I really didn't need to spend the money anyway. 

Next we went to Southern Estates.  I usually don't get anything there, but have run across a deal occasionally.  They had a Cloverleaf luncheon plate that I have been talking myself out of buying (the price was too high) for about a year and a half, but it was gone today.  I'm sure someone finally bought it. They did have a splendid 'shell pink' cake pedestal (I've never seen one like it), but since I keep talking myself out of starting a shell pink collection, I didn't buy it.  So we had a good rummage, but ended up not buying anything.

The plantarflexion seems to be working miracles.  I didn't have to hobble into the restaurant (as I had feared) and my feets held up pretty well through the mini-run today.  Thank God.  It seems that I'll be able to return to a mostly normal life.  Hopefully.

I took Larry back to his car after that, and expected that to be the end of it.  But I invited him back to the house, and he accepted.  One thing led to another, and we spent a lovely romantic afternoon laid up being sweet to each other.  He was at the house until after dark, so we ordered a pizza for supper.  I put in Sordid Lives, and we had pizza and finished up a very pleasant evening.