Tuesday, October 08, 2002

Last night was a weird night.

Weirdness Part I

As many of you know, I volunteer with the NYC Gay Men's Chorus. Well, ever since the minor scandal with the chorine that I had a huge crush on for most of the last season and did nothing about it and wound up not getting the guy because he found another guy and if I had just stepped up to the plate and done something about it then it would have been a lot less stress on Monday night's for me, I had decided that I was not going to even bother looking at any of the new chorines because it would only cause more unneeded stress in my life. (Besides many of us have already determined that a certain P-town dwelling chorine who just returned from an extended leave is just about the sexiest man alive.) So here I was dishing out the name tags last night in an effort to get the gents through the line and into rehearsal when I handed one new chorine his name tag. He flashed me this blinding smile that made me go weak in the knees and uttered a most astonished "thank you" and pretty much left me in a pool of jelly. Then when he left, he did it again. Jelly.

Weirdness Part II

Again at chorus rehearsal, I mentioned to the sexiest man alive (as deemed by a consensus of the associate members) that I may be joining the gay rugby team. As he was leaving, he told me that if I did join, that I should run for the title of Chorus Butch.

Let me explain the concept of Chorus Butch and Chorus Queen. Each year at their winter retreat (a time for concentrated rehearsal and merriment) the chorus elects a new queen and butch. The queen is, typically, one of the lovely members who does drag. From my own personal recollection, I do not know of any Chorus Queen that didn't do drag. The butch is, generally, one of the more leather oriented members of the group. Therefore the concept of me running for Chorus Butch really cracked me up and I had a nice laugh over it all the way home. Sexy chorine, of course, said that the idea of me in my rugby jersey, shorts, and cleats would win them over and he would even campaign for me. Well, let me get through one rugby practice before we go to that step.

Weirdness Part III

Part of my unofficial duties as an associate member is to walk around giving back massages to chorus members. I do it for two reasons -- 1) my hands are victims of arthritis and carpal tunnal and doing these massages helps to keep my hands strong and 2) it helps to relieve my stress as well as that of the chorus members. You could also say it allows me to molest them as well but that's not a big reason (although sometimes it is...). Anyway, one of the people I massaged last night appeared in my dreams. And it wasn't one of those dreams where you're skiing or talking to people...this was a sex dream and I was getting into some pretty hot and heavy (dare I say kinky?) action with this individual. When I woke up after a certain intense moment in the dream, it was almost four in the morning and I was covered in sweat. I grabbed my towel, attempted to dry myself off (I still felt sticky), and went to back to bed. Once I fell back asleep, the dream picked up. All I have to say is that if there is any chance that this dream comes true (and it is a small one) then all I have to say is, "Oh holy fuck..."

It's getting hot in here just thinking about that dream...

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