a long nights journey home
Wednesday, Aug. 20, 2003 - 12:57 AM

Ooooohhh, so much to say since last we met.

the good news, Ful and I had our seven month aniversary yesterday (pause for congradulations). We went to diner at Dos Caminos where we wined on some strong sangria and dined on the best pork ribs ever ingested....ever! Three deserts, some scotch and port later, we retire back to brooklyn to meet stylegirl II: The gayboysoutherner meant to replace stylegirl "the original" only in her room, not in our hearts. A few kettle/tonics later, ful and I had our own private avinversary party which would beat out the Vanity Fair after Oscar party anyday! (that's all you're getting from me in that department)

FF>> to tonight, on my way home from Brookland, waiting for the 7 train, enraptured by my latest Dan Brown novel as purchaced by the love of my world, MINDING MY OWN BUSINESS mind you, i'm forced into conversation with a "personal trainer" who cannot stop staring at my legs. I wish I could have been Lucy Lui in either Charlie's Angels movie and just said "no....no....no...no...nope...i don't think so...no," anytime he tried to say anything. but alas, the polite side of me took over and I engaged in casual conversation with a complete stranger at 12:30 in the morning. The interaction was reminiscent of a barage of pick-up lines one would hear at XL, or HEAVEN or some other seedy gay pick up joint. But I'm a big boy, I can take care of myself, and Jeff...I think his name was, had mentioned that he was getting off a full four stops ahead of me. So at least I wouldn't have to deal with waiting with him at my bus stop, and the whole interaction took a mere 15 minutes, so I was confident that he would not have the guts to ask me out. I also made sure to steer the conversation to current events, not giving the man any personal information, hoping he would get the hint. Then, OUT OF NO WHERE, he blurts out, "So I go to this foot fetish party every wednesday night!" My conversation skills abuptly turn to that of a deaf mute. after a brief silence that seemed to take an eternity, the only words I could muster were, "Whatever makes you happy?" As I turn my head I see that he's staring, not at my legs, but my FEET. Admittedly, the size 12s extending from my 5'9" frame, do draw some attention from time to time. But only when I accidentally trip someone, which happens, tops...TOPS...2,3 times a day...TOPS! The expression on my face must have scared him because he got off the train 2 stops before the one he previously claimed to be his. In awe of what just happened, I burst out laughing as soon as the train doors closed as a thought entered my mind. If only he knew the disaster that lives beneath my shoes, the damage done by nearly 12 years of dancing and gymnastics, and from this day forward, I shall thank the gods my boyfriend does NOT have a foot fetish!