You don't say

A few weeks ago, feeling like I needed to make friends here, I answered a personal on Metroweekly. The guy turned out to be a lawyer, 32 years of age. Sounded pretty nice on the phone, he told me he had a party at his place last night, do you want to come. I said, sure why not.

So I turn up and there were a bunch of people I never met. J., the 20-something from Catholic American South, not out to his family, decent. V., the host, my "contact", lawyer, wealthy. K., interesting, ok. Name-I-forgot, 50-something, geeky, ok. S., 34, workaholic. C., bitchy, ok. M., didn't talk to much, no comments. E., decent, didn't talk to much, no comments. Very tall, name-I-forgot, didn't want to talk to me. A., sullen-faced, didn't want to talk to me. S., arrived late, I was kinda sleepy and left before we talked. A few others, gone with the wind.

What a boring night. Silver Springs, Maryland, home of rich yuppified faggots doing their shit, living in posh condos without no yard nor garden of green grass and flowers.

Got home, went to bed. V. calls, saying nice cordial things. Did you get home safe, we were worried (that I was tipsy). Didn't get to try the wine you brought, maybe we could try it sometime. I say, yeah I got home safe, I'm fine, yeah to everything he said.

No more nights like this for me, though.