TC used my technical prowess so he could reach me on his mobile at anytime anywhere and took advantage of free calling weekends to basically talk for > 2 hours, I got a walking audio tour of London, the “remember when we ate here” sort of thing. YES, I miss the tiger, tail twitching as he sleeps.
But I was alone only partially this weekend. Friday night Peter. Saturday with the kids. Saturday night recovering. Sunday working on stuff. Sunday night reading. Gez – I sound like a librarian.
I traveled a lot and as a married guy, I stayed close to the fort on weekends. Maybe a couple might come over, maybe we went out for an event, but after enduring airport TSA, bad meals and strange hotel rooms. I was ready to bang around the house. All the company I needed was my wife and kids. It was a self-contained unit.
Now I’m alone. I’m not a ‘go to the club’ person or hang out in a bar. My married friends want nothing to do with me, I’m odd man out. I’d written I need to develop some friends, unfortunately they’re likely to be gay. Straight guys hang out chasing tail and when they catch something, disappear and don’t re-emerge until they get dumped. I don’t like women all that much and not interested in talking about fashion with them or whatever the hell it is that gay guys talk to women about.
So queers it is. But TC long ago pointed out I quickly rank a guy as to their food worthiness. It’s a 15 second process highly tuned from my hunting on the Serengeti plains. This is primary reason he goes nutsy coo-coo if I so much as linger on someone. Is this a snack or perhaps an entree?
The answer is I need to be a part of some fruit group. I don’t have time to be a full voting member, perhaps the occasional visiting guest lecturer. But some gang whose ringleader has something regular going on that I can join in. So there, I have a new mission and the hard question is to find this group.
They’ll travel in a school, safety in numbers, likely be suspect to any new entrant and I’ll just have to earn their trust, one fish at a time.