Another boring life in the world of corporate meetings, interrupted by TC (aka Tiger Cub) sheepishly calling me for the 3rd consecutive day. He misses me. The continuous hunt for someone new gets old, it wears on you. I think we both realize that despite our many differences, there is some connection we have. A connection we are both loath to let go of. TC hates to show his emotional side, but it’s there, I feel it.
Chris invited 5 of the bartenders of his gay club over to my flat last night. It’s a big bar and the bartenders are either Italian or Eastern Europeans. Dark meat. My heart rate increases, all of them are either cute or smoking hot. Come to daddy!
Turns out that got trashed there drinking champagne, one took his clothes off and wrapped himself in a blanket and sat out of the balcony, all of them ended up sleeping there. Chris telling me two slept in my own bed. I ain’t washing those sheets.
I’m breathless. “TC why don’t we have puppy parties when I’m in town???”, I pant. A pregnant silence following by “Noooooo”. Why not I counter? “Noooo .. I don’t need you hunting for your new puppy while I’m still around”, he slides across. He’s saving me all for himself. But come on Chris, I have the hots in particular for one of the bartenders. TC won’t play along. “Chris – I know your tactics and I’m not sure you’d behave properly”.
Behave? I’m perfect gentlemen. Scooby snack anyone?