Monday, December 17, 2007

A Series of Unfortunate Events

I was feeling unsettled earlier this evening. It occurred to me that I really needed to fuck. I'd fucked b&c in the morning, and my unsettled nature seemed to come not so much from a need to ejaculate as a need to hunt and gather. B&c is a fine bedfellow, but it seems to be my nature to need to prowl occasionally. When I tried to remember how long it had been since I had prowled, I couldn't. That meant it had been too damn long. (And, yes, I know I could look it up on the blog, but exactly how long doesn't really matter: too damn long matters.)

It wasn't long before I found a suitable candidate on craigslist. I responded to his ad, we had a few backs and forths, discussed what we wanted to do, traded body pics, and agreed on a time for me to show up at his place.

You can tell just how much I needed this hookup by the fact that I then had to go and have the following conversation, which I will now transcribe verbatim:

TED: [B&c's real name, shortened to a monosyllable for convenience]?
B&c: Yeah?
TED: I'm going out for a sleazy Internet hookup. I'll be back.
B&c: Ok.

B&c and I, obviously, have an open relationship. But I generally try to avoid hooking up when he's home because it seems a little bit rude. I had to be pretty hard up to be willing to go there.

Anyway, I got ready, printed out directions, and left. About fifteen minutes later, I arrived at my destination. The townhouse was dark. I pulled into the driveway then pulled out and went to an unreserved parking space. Then I went back and rang the doorbell, and there was no answer.

I was teetering on the edge of surprise (because this guy had seemed like the type to do what he said he'd do) and annoyance (for obvious reasons) when a car pulled into the driveway. The guy got out, came around the car and said, "I know you." To which I replied, "I know you, too."

A week ago, at b&c's and my holiday party, I'd gotten a call from my friend Sanford who'd asked whether he could still come to the party and whether he could bring a friend. I said yes, of course. He'd actually responded affirmatively to the invitation, and it was only 8:15 or so when he called. And more guests are almost always a good thing. He said he had to go pick up his friend and then he'd be over. About forty-five minutes later, the two of them showed up at our door asking for a flashlight. Some years back, one of our door neighbors, who is really not a very pleasant fellow, had placed a line of large rocks about a yard from the road on his property. He didn't want school buses parking on his yard while they waited. Sanford had tried to park there and had not seen the rocks and had driven over one. His SUV was, as a result, making "a really loud noise." I gave him the flashlight and waited about ten minutes. Then I went outside to check on them, and they were discussing what they should do about the really loud noise. I told them that it was nearly 9:30 and that they wouldn't be able to find a mechanic, so they might as well come inside. Sanford was worried about getting stranded somewhere. I'd had too much mulled wine to offer to drive anyone anywhere, but I reasoned that the later they waited, the fewer people would be calling AAA, so they were actually better off waiting until midnight to drive home. Sanford disagreed. The two of them came inside for about fifteen minutes and had a cup each of mulled wine and then left. The next day, I emailed Sanford to ask about his SUV, but I haven't heard anything back yet.

Anyway, the guy he brought, whose name I cannot remember, was the guy getting out of the car and saying, "I know you."

He opened the garage door, and we walked inside, and he said I could have a seat in the living room. Then about twenty seconds later, he came into the room and started to tell me that he was weirded out by the whole situation because, "Well, I don't really know you, but I know of you." I, naturally, responded with, "So?" And he started saying how he was being up front and honest and how because we both knew Sanford, he wasn't comfortable. I told him that Sanford wouldn't care, and he said he knew that, but the situation made him uncomfortable, and then he repeated, a few more times, how he was being honest. I suppose he was saying that he was being honest about not liking the fact that he knew of me rather than not liking me. I didn't really care which it was. I didn't say anything else. I left, and I drove home.

When I got home, b&c asked me why I looked annoyed, and I explained to him who the guy had been and he said, "So?" so I explained to him that the guy was uncomfortable because he was Sanford's friend, and b&c said "Why does that matter?" I shrugged, and b&c proceeded to tell me about a disappointing hookup (a married guy who lasted two minutes) he'd had earlier in the week. B&c have our differences, but a partner who will commiserate with you over bad hookups is the kind of partner a guy holds onto.

Anyway, I was pretty pissed off. The way I figure it, this guy is both a bad host and a bad guest. He invites me over, he's not home when I get there, and he freaks out for no good reason, all after having showed up at my party for fifteen minutes. Some people. Plus, he'd made me have that conversation with b&c for nothing.

I was even more pissed off at Sanford. Not only is he introducing me to people who I then can't have sex with, I'm pretty sure from this guy's CL ad that he and Sanford met on a CL hookup. A few years ago, Sanford was my second favorite FWP. I invited him and my favorite FWP to our holiday party, they started dating, and suddenly I couldn't have sex with either of them anymore. But if Sanford is fooling around with other guys, he could have been fooling around with me all this time. God knows he enjoyed the sex all the (many) times we hooked up.

He's never been reliable, though. He accepts invitations and doesn't show up. He waits months to return a call. Hell, one time we had a date and he canceled because he was in the ER getting treated for a heart attack. A good (and, as it happened, true) excuse, yes, but it's a long way to go to break a date. He couldn't just pretend to have a friend to pick up at the airport?

Anyway, I'd been home for a half hour or so, and b&c just about had dinner ready when my cell rang. I answered, and it was Kip wanting to come over. I asked him to hold on for a second, mouthed "Kip" to b&c, who shrugged. Shrugging is a good response to Kip, but I was in need of the external affirmation that only a hookup provides, so I told Kip to come on over. He said he would.

Thirty seconds later, the phone rang again, and Kip told me that his bf was there and that he couldn't come over. I was perplexed about how that could have happened, but I didn't say anything to him except "Ok." Then I grumbled to b&c, but he assured me that Kip isn't the sort to make stuff like that up. I hadn't been all that enthusiastic about having Kip over for a threeway, so I really wasn't all that angry at him. I might have felt like the universe was being awfully unfair to me, but I don't ascribe any sentience to the universe, so I just felt unlucky.

But I'm mad enough at Sanford (and his nameless friend) to sort of let that whole situation evaporate. I just won't invite him to do things any more, and the next time he calls me, I'll let it go to voicemail. He's really the sort of guy who isn't worth the trouble unless you get to fuck him.

My anger is mostly notional, though. It was drained when, later in the evening, I found someone else to hook up with. More about that later, but it's tough to stay pissed off when you've just had really good sex.

Which is kind of too bad. Anger, I think, is mostly a destructive emotion, but when you have solid reasons for being annoyed, righteous anger can be a great motivating and energizing force. But I guess that since I've resolved what to do about it, I've gotten as much as I'm going to get from that particular round of anger. No matter: I reckon I'll have some more righteous anger (non-political righteous anger, that is: I get political righteous anger every day) in another four to six months. Eighteen months, tops.

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