An Unceremonious Outing

It’s the mornig after the night before.

Last night was our annual Halloween party, and I decided to mix groups of friends, and negleted to set ground rules for those that know.

Now, most of my friends are also my housemates friends, meaning that I don’t usually have to invite anyone to our partys. It’s a consequence of having only lived in this town for about a year and a half. I decided, for a change, to invite some of my friends from outside this social circle; inviting my good friend Stuart who brought along his buddy Dan.

There were around 30 people all crammed into our house, and there was A LOT of alcohol involved.

And where alcohol is involved the normal social reserves fade.

Everyone was having a fabulous time, it was only halfway through the night that I made the discovery that some of the people who knew, didn’t realise it was privileged information. As the night progressed and the alcohol flowed everyone was mixing and having fun.

Ladies of a certain type became flirty with the obvious, and not so obvious gay guys, and one of the gay guys (not me and not Stuart) started to flirt with the straight boys; which was hilarious to start with… but two guys in particular got a lot of ‘attention’ and started to feel a little uncomfortable.

Those breeders don’t seem to appreciate the stroking and petting…

As everyone realised that I’d brought the gays to the party, you could see pennies dropping all around.

It wasn’t planned, but I think I manged to out myself to pretty much everyone there last night.

I’m not sure how I feel about that, except glad that I didn’t invite my work colleagues!  Now to head downstairs and face the mess, the mass of bodies sprawled on all available areas recovering from last nights excesses… and the inevitable questions “just to confirm”. Maybe everyone will have forgotten through the excesses of alcohol… It’s going to be weird seeing everyone ‘the morning after’.

Not how I’d have planned it, but the secret is out to significantly more people now. I no longer know who knows, and who doesn’t.

One funny moment has stuck in my mind though… A sober Stuart (he was driving again) poking a Pumpkin lantern in the eye socket with a bloodstained mini cricket-bat; repeating the words “Skull fuck!” over and over… not realising one of the breeder boys was watching him with a peculiar expression on his face, until the last minute.

28 & ?? – Oh Stuff it…

Twenty-eight years, and… Oh who gives a fu*k how many days

I was reminded of something while writing my last post, that I’ve never really blogged about before.

Namely, that it’s been a long LONG time since I’ve had any physical contact with anyone.

28 & 3 – Flirt

Twenty-eight years and three days.

28 & 1 – Am I going to fret like this every year?

Twenty-eight years and one day.

2 8 & 0 – Begining

Twenty-eight years and zero days.