Thursday, March 3, 2011

Pac's Saturday Night

So on Saturday night, Eddie and I took a taxi to the Bearracuda event at the Heretic. Eddie said he had a dream I was going to ditch him there so he made me pay the fare out. He'd pick it up on the way back. Why do I seem to have a lot more fun in other people's dreams than I have in my own, or even in real life?

Eddie installed Scruff once but never created a profile. (He's way too private. Not in a "I'm mysterious and keep to myself" kind of way, but in a paranoid "nobody's going to photoshop my head onto someone else's body" kind of way. Seriously. He won't even use Facebook.) But he's familiar with the app and pointed to the Scruff t-shirt on a handsome guy walking by. The hairy stud responded by trying to bite Eddie's finger. Or maybe just suck it, we'll never know. Eddie pulled back his hand with a look of horror and lust. "Don't feed the bears!" I warned him.

The music was great and the crowd was hairy, friendly and fun. We ran into old friends, made some new ones and in general had a great time. Then around midnight, I felt a hand on my shoulder.  As I turned to look, I felt a sharp punch in the gut. I know it was all in my head, but it still knocked the wind out of me. All I could think to say was "Happy Birthday, Joey." He was impressed I remembered his birthday and told me he was sorry about my dad. He then turned toward the dance floor and disappeared into the crowd. And that was it. Eddie's report from last weekend was accurate. He is looking good. Really good.

"Aren't you going to talk to him?" Eddie asked.

If Joey came all the way to Atlanta to make small talk with me, he'd still be standing here. And I haven't exactly been encouraging him. Plus I didn't want to risk making any of Eddie's dreams come true, not if I could help it.

"Nah," I said. "Let's go get something to eat. I'm hungry." If there wasn't going to be any whoring this weekend, I was damn sure going to cross Chinese food off my list.

An hour later I got home with more than enough leftovers to eat in bed on Sunday. As I put the styrofoam container in the fridge, the phone rang.


While paying for lunch today, this fell out of my wallet...

The fortune from my cookie last Saturday night. I don't think I gave it any significance at the time. But then, why did I feel the need to put it in my wallet?

When I woke up Sunday morning, opportunity was nowhere to be found. Maybe it was just my turn to dream.


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