Thursday, July 12, 2007


I have gotten a little better at whipping out my cell phone and unobtrusively taking a picture. The pictures themselves, as you can see, are still crap, but I guess you've got to walk before you can run, right? Besides, you can find a picture of almost anyone with a public life on the Internet. Anyway, the picture above is the view from where I was sitting at last night's outdoor concert at Strathmore.

My friend (without privileges) G. had emailed me earlier this week to see whether I wanted to join him at this week's concert. He and I and his roommate/tenant/fuckbuddy/second boyfriend had had a great time a few weeks back with lawn chairs and a picnic basket at another concert from the same series. This time his rtfbsbf couldn't join us, but b&c could. The concert was a group taken from the members of the Washington Symphonic Brass. I like brass music, but, more importantly, brass players = eye candy.

The last time we went to a concert, G. had provided the food, so this time I told him we'd take care of it. I cooked Tuesday night and put the food in containers and the supplies in my giant IKEA bag and left b&c with instructions to a) buy some bread, b) bring everything I'd prepared, and c) also bring some cold beer.

We met at G.'s place, drove over to Strathmore together, got everything out of the trunk of the car, and proceeded towards the concert lawn. On our way, we were redirected to the concert hall lobby. Because thunderstorms were in the forecast, they'd decided to move the concert indoors. That meant we had to check our lawn chairs and sit on the floor. It wasn't very comfortable, but we had beer. And brass players.

Pretty early in the concert -- right after he'd finished eating -- b&c decided that he couldn't tolerate sitting on the hard floor any longer, so he moved to a bench. Naturally, G. and I spent most of the rest of the concert arguing over which of the instrumentalists was hotter. You be the judge.

When this guy got up to do his trumpet solo during one of the medleys, G. opined that he was the hottest one in the group. I said, "Are you kidding? I mean, sure, I'd do him, but from this group, I'd do him third." I was kind of surprised at G.'s preference because he usually goes for guys who are closer to half his age (i.e., guys in their late twenties). Or half my age even. His current (principal) boyfriend is 29 but was 21 when they met in Japan. G. also typically has a thing for Asian men. He oversees some sort of HIV research program, and he's always traveling to Thailand and Beijing, ostensibly so that he can attend conferences or oversee his grant recipients, but mostly so that he can hook up with a wide assortment of guys who push all his buttons. He and b&c spent much of the trip to and from the concert hall last night discussing the relative merits of being fucked by many men in Jordan versus being fucked by many men in China. I just rolled my eyes.

Anyway, I thought the first trumpet player was all right, but I mostly had eyes for the guy with the largest instrument. I mean the tuba player, of course.

Behold the tuba player. In this picture, he's rocking the tuxedo, but he was even hotter in last night's casual concert attire. Tuba players don't get to show off as much as trumpeters, but at some point during last night's West Side Story medley, they did give the tuba player the melody in "I Feel Pretty." Appropriate and hilarious. When I told G. that the tuba player was clearly the hot piece of meat, the following exchange ensued:
G.: But my guy's so talented!
T.: My guy's got better lung capacity.
G.: Your guy's wearing a wedding band, though.
T.: Dude. When has that ever stopped either of us? You were wearing a wedding band the whole time you were shacked up with E. in Japan.
G.: But my guy plays with the Baltimore Symphony. Your guy plays with the Army band. So my guy's a better musician.
T.: But my guy has better breath control and knows how to take orders.

I did have to concede that my tuba player was probably straight or, worse, a top. But that still left my second choice, who was playing second trumpet.

This picture really does not do him justice. For starters, his head was completely shaved last night, and a shaved head on a fit, shorter guy is always something that makes me salivate. And this guy was very fit indeed. His main gig is with some sort of Marine band, so you know that at some point this guy must have played the trumpet while carrying a fifty-pound pack on a twenty mile hike. In the rain. And, well, he's a marine, so he's got to be a bottom. (Though, to be honest, while the guys gave a pretty good concert last night, none of them had a really exceptional ass. I blame the black slacks.)

But I've never liked "or" when I could like "and," and I don't see why I shouldn't have both of the guys. A threeway with me, Mr. Tuba, and Mr. Second Trumpet would clearly foster cooperation between the branches of our armed services. At the same time, it would serve as a timely reminder that in this country, the ultimate power rests with civilians.

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