Cock and Confluence

I'm not sure what's been happening in the cosmos this past week, but I'm sure the word "confluence" is being tossed around by those in the know. Various aspects of my life seem to be merging everywhere I look.

Recently, I hired one of my roommate's best friends at my store. I have known him a long time, and though we've hung out on occasion and he worked at my store, very briefly, once before, we've never really been friends. More like a really familiar acquaintance. Now, however, we see each other at least five times a week. Instead of overhearing conversations he has with my roommate from home, I overhear them from work. My roommate will now hear details about me from him, or she'll hear about things he hasn't yet told her from me. Last Friday, I joined my roommate at my co-worker's place for their weekly card game-slash-drinkfest. Suddenly three seperate worlds have begun to overlap.

It's not a messy or gossipy situation - we're all friends. It just feels a little odd, as if a popular television show and it's spin-off suddenly merged into one program. You know all the elements and all the characters, but there are suddenly so many new dimensions to the thing that it takes a few episodes to wrap your head around it.

Last Saturday, I was itching to go out and have some fun. The weather had been beautiful all day, and I had just begun a six-day on run of long shifts at work and this would be the only night that didn't hold an early rise on the other side. The roommate and I hung out at home, listened to music, and I had a few beers. I sent out some text messages, but everyone I knew seemed to be gone for the weekend or were staying inside. I could have, but did not feel like, hittin' the streets alone.

What's a boy to do?

I called Shawn. You may recall this was the guy I fell hard and fast for last August. We had a brief dating period of intense mutual attraction, and then the whole thing imploded in my face and I found myself trying to put the shattered pieces of my heart back together. To this day if his name comes up, my friend's gazes immediately get more intense, searching mine fearfully for signs that I'm being led down the garden path to heartbreak once more.

I won't lie, though it pains me to admit this: he's my McDreamy (to those of you who don't watch Grey's Anatomy, I apologize for a reference you probably don't understand - I could say he's my Mr. Big, but it doesn't fit nearly as well). It is potentially emotionally hazardous for me to hang out with him. But Shawn and I have hung out a few times of late, as friends, and so far it's been fine.

So I called him. I met him and his friend Jared downtown and we went out. It was a crazy night full of dancing and drinking and we had a great time. Jared was cute and friendly. I was sort of hitting on him (I say sort-of as I'm not very good at that sort of thing - I'm pretty sure I lack both finesse and subtlety, but I'll never learn if I don't practice, right?) but it was clear I was getting nowhere, so I gave up before going too far and making the night weird for all.

On the dancefloor we were joined by Danielle, who seemed to know Shawn really well. I met Danielle a couple of weeks ago - through Steve. Here we go agian, I thought. Next thing I know, we're all back at Shawn's place to keep the party going, a whole slew of people from the bar in tow - one of whom is Mike, Steve's best friend.

Weird. What was weirder were the little tete-a-tete moments I had with both Danielle and Mike in the course of the evening where they both asked for a Brad-and-Steve status report and then proceeded to tell me I could do much better and to forget about him.

Yeah, I had, actually, I felt like saying. So could you both maybe stop bringing him up?

I ended up making out with Shawn's adorable little dog and flirting with some impossibly cute boy named Salvatore. Shawn popped Mean Girls on, and eventually everyone began to trickle out. Jared and Shawn started canoodling behind me on the couch, to which I was oddly indifferent. My only thought was "'so that's why I didn't get anywhere with Jared." Mike showed back up with some very bad cocaine. The movie ended. Shawn asked me if I was sleeping over.

"Oh, god no," I said. "I work tomorrow. I have to go home to bed." I left, Mike in tow, who walked me halfway home, rambling on about god knows what.

It didn't occur to me until I woke up for work a few hours later that Shawn may not have been offering up a spot to crash, but something else entirely. Right over my head. That's so like me. I agonize over details that inevitably mean nothing and completely miss the obvious.

I guess I'll never really know what he meant. He might have just been hinting that it was it was time to get the fuck out. It's hard to say.

Sunday, of course, was a write-off, considering I didn't crawl home until 9am and arrived at work at noon Monday night found me on my weekly old-videos-and-beer date with my friend Daniel. What is usually a fairly uneventful night with one of my dearest friends somehow spiralled into madness. He ran into an ex whom I discovered is basically his McDreamy. I ran into a gay scene Personality who I see around a lot but don't really know that well. It turns out he lives down the street from Steve (I knew Steve knew this person because Steve once told me how much he absolutely hates him) and I was informed once again that I could do much better and that I'm pretty special and deserve same.

Okay, I get the picture already!

The three of us ended up at another bar watching what can only be described as an insane drag show complete with bikinis and a swan dress. Daniel and I both got way too drunk. Things got strangely awkward when the Personality asked Daniel and I why we had never slept together, a reaction of which I'm not sure what to make. (Are we friends or should we be dating? is a question that always seems to be hanging over the heads of any two gay men who are just friends, though I won't deny that I haven't asked it myself).

Daniel got in a cab and went home to bed. I ended up hanging out at a drag queen's apartment and making out with the Personality, who I eventually dragged home to my bed for absolutely amazing sex.

As I dragged myself to work yet again, trying not to laugh at the ridiculousness of my life, and failing, I realized with a start that Monday had been my Ex's birthday and I hadn't acknowledged it in any way. What's worse is that I don't really feel bad about it. What's worse than that is I kind of take pleasure in the fact that I got fucked right good, in ways we certainly never did, on his birthday.

Hey, if he can be bitter and be a dick to me, I feel entitled to do so on occasion as well. I've tried to be nice and mature about it all, but I'm tired of it.

Tuesday, or course, was a write-off.

Wednesday night was supposed to be a quiet night in listening to music and having a few beers with one of my best friends at his place. Shawn called and suggested we join him at a nightclub for some dancing, so after a few shooters, we did. Somehow we ended up running into this woman we know who worked security at a club I used to spin at and a whack of us ended up at her place. Nothing too exciting was happening there - her roommate was sleeping and we had to be quiet. Shawn had brought some hot guy named Philip along with him - it seems that Shawn is constantly surrounded by hot men - whose chest I couldn't stop staring at.

Shawn seemed to notice my interest, dropping some comment about how "he's pretty handsome, eh?" and then saying something about how, okay, he would "let me" have him. It seemed like an odd comment (not to mention a bit arrogant, with just a hint of condescension, but that's Shawn for you) so there's obviously more to their story - what, I don't know.

Still, I didn't really think anything of it. When we all split off to go our seperate ways at four in the morning, however, Philip started walking with me instead of going off with Shawn. He invited me back to his place for a drink. Shawn's comment lurked in the back of my mind. Something seemed fishy. Had he somehow set this up or something? Had he told Philip I was easy or something?

Well, no matter, I thought, I am. And maybe I would get to see that chest.

I did. And to my surprise it was a really nice time. Instead of a whole wham-bam-gotta-go-now type thing, we actually shot the shit and got to know each other. I gave him my number, but I'm fairly certain he won't use it. As I was leaving, he asked me not to mention to Shawn that I had been there. I suddenly felt like the runner-up in a beauty pageant who'd been called in for an event because the winner had fallen ill.

"Sure, don't worry about it," I said. "I don't kiss and tell."