Well, Vampire Slayer costumes garner a considerable amount of attention. This I've learned. Lots of comments, a few gropes, one ass-slap and a whole lot of bedroom eyes. It's the mascara. I'm certain of it. People dig a guy in mascara and leather.
Though attention does not a fun weekend make.
Friday and Friday night were fun. Our staff Halloween party was cute. The food was amazing. (though it always is.) I tied for "best costume", and won a DVD and a piece of Hayes carry-on luggage (pink! and yes, I'm that secure.). After work, I stood in an impossibly long line at the LCBO for booze, and then took an equally impossibly long streetcar ride to Parkdale to hang out with my friend Peachy at his place and proceeded to drink a lot. He DJ's/hosts a night at the Press Club once a month called Queer Social and that was our destination. Good scene. Nice little bar. Live music and then some lost 80's stuff. This was the first QS since August, when I met a sexy 22 year old "Vin", who I made-out with for hours at and after the club. And he just happened to show up this Friday too. I suffered a little indignity of feeling a little too sexy for my alcohol. I was all touchy-feelie with him, and he (though receptive) told me he just wanted to be friends. A good thing, because I don't want another boyfriend, but OUCH!
The boy sure can kiss though. Lordy.
It was his birthday. We danced a strange combative conversation during which he told me he'd give me his phone number. I told him I'd give him mine instead. This puzzled him. So I told him, I'm 50% "don't believe you". Once he had my phone number, he immediately called to see if I'd actually given it to him, and texted me. "Hellos". I later texted him back "Hellos & Goodbyes. : )". I realize that's maybe a little cold and dismissive, but I do not need another 23 year old. 3 of the guys I've had "things" with over the past 2 years have been under 25. They're untrainable. Horrible pets.
I was out late that night, and was texting back and forth with my friend "PJ" who is a very kind and sweet suitor. He insisted on picking me up and driving me home, which probably rescued me from hypothermia and got me home a good 3 hours faster than the TTC would have. He stayed the night at my place. We were going to have brunch at his place on Saturday anyhow, so it worked-out well. He made me an amazing omelet and then we headed out in search of cupcakes and bow ties. Which just plain makes me smile.
He needed a bow tie for his costume as an old-school press photographer. And the cupcakes.... just because cupcakes rock.
He never did get a bow tie, but we shared a dozen mini-cupcakes on the beach, watching waves, and petting dogs. Me in my full costume.
I highly recommend dressing like a male-on-male porn star and going to a dog-park. The dogs don't mind, 'cause they see your soul and wag their tails. Their owners... not-so-much.
Again though... fucking cold.
Not too long afterwards, we headed to The Guild Inn in Scarborough, which was beautiful. We walked among a huge collection of pieces from demolished structures, that are brought to this site for posterity. There are massive pillars, and arches and statues and such, made from cut stone and marble and the park just has a surreal "gorgeous graveyard" feeling to it.
PJ, being a skilled (and sought-after) photographer, took the opportunity to snap a few "in character" photos of me in my costume in some amazing surroundings. I climbed atop an 8-foot stone sculpted pillar and posed with stakes in hand and cape blowing. Incredible fun. I was a rock-star/superhero. ha!
This was my first "autumn walk" of the year, and I got to enjoy two of my favourite sounds: crashing waves and crunching leaves. PJ is playing a good game, considering how unavailable my heart is, and how quickly I threw the anchor off the boat at top speed, shortly after we met. His is a good soul. I care for him already. Though I'm not sure romance is in the cards. Like I said though, he's playing a good game. He's charming and gentle and has a great approach to life.
PJ, dropped me off at my best girlfriend's place, so she could do my makeup again. She was solely responsible for how readily I would wear mascara again just to turn boys heads. I didn't stay there long because I was late for dinner with "Poppycock" and "Meaty". I always smoke entirely too much pot around them, but hey, it was Halloween. We actually discussed a few favourite Halloween memories from childhood, and then their landlord joined us for a late dinner where the conversation strangely-enough turned to 4 year olds who poop their pants, not once, but twice. Meaning, twice the conversation went there. Not "double-load pants pooping". Good times.
I'll sum-up the rest of Saturday night quickly because it wasn't that interesting.
After dinner, I headed out to the village on my own. Strolled up and down Church street twice to see where things were happening and to enjoy the good costumes.
Lots of bare-flesh for such a cold night. But I think as Canadians, we forget that winter is not a sexy time, and a good cold snap makes outdoor lingerie a poor choice for Halloween.
This stroll up and down Church street was when I got the majority of my "great costume" comments, and a grope and lots of loving glances. It would be easy to become intoxicated by feeling that desired. (an interesting experience for me)
I went to a club that was having a "bear" night. That's the sub-category of homosexual culture that I fall into strictly based on stature and body/facial hair. The night is called "Pit Bull". The music and the crowd, are not my thing. Admittedly, I was kind of on the prowl for at least a little make-out action, and thought this place would be my safest bet. Wrong. After one drink and about half an hour waiting for a good song, I took off. The music really, really influences whether I can remain in a club and it just wasn't happening. I don't know why I bother going there in all honesty.
My fail-safe for good music is actually a lesbian bar called "Slacks". The DJ there is usually a "9 out of 10 songs are good songs" category DJ, with a sad penchant for the Black-Eyed Peas, which I forgive resentfully. I didn't even really get into the club on this evening though, because one of my favourite young guy friends "Sauce", texted me and wanted to know where I was and what I was up to. I have had a huge crush on Sauce for 3 years now. He's gorgeous. I'd rope the moon for him if he didn't have a boyfriend. But seeing as how he is 22, it's probably best that that never happens.
I waited in line til he got there, and we went in for a while, but he felt self-conscious because he didn't have a costume and he's not much of a club kid. So... we went for Chinese food. Sadly he called his boyfriend who brought along four very odd friends so the meal was a little awkward, but Sauce and I shared a cab ride home and enjoyed each others company. This was a late night.
Got home at 5 am, went to bed at 5:30 in full make-up like all the professionals, and slept til 10am when awakened by a call from "Pugs", my 59 year-old downstairs neighbour lady. I was an ass and ignored her call because she wanted me to take pictures of her dog in a devil costume, and I knew I could endeavor to get that done later on in the week when I wasn't running on fumes and crispy-fried shrimp. "Pugs" will make me pay for this neglect in some sulky Virgo way. I should call her today to make amends.
So yes, I was up at 10, and had a Skype date with "Lion" for an hour. He's in Spain, so it was late afternoon for him. He was looking all cute and chipper and practically jumping through the screen because he loved my beard being all dark from the makeup. "Lion" is my Spanish boyfriend. We had an incredible Spring romance while he was in Canada that I'll undoubtedly talk about another time. He always makes me happy.
Though, I crashed emotionally shortly after we spoke. I don't know if it was the pot or the alcohol catching up with me but I was a sad mess yesterday afternoon. Too much time to think about "Scooter". I spent the afternoon writing him an e-mail I'll never send him. That's my therapy.
At any rate, I decided I wasn't going to let the heaviness keep me home. I went to the tree house to meet up with Poppycock and Meaty again. From there, we went to "Ginger" and "Bert"'s place. Ginger was dressed as a viking, and Bert opted for a very classy impersonation of Queen Elizabeth. Poppycock and Meaty are in "new couple" mode. They didn't wear costumes. Poppycock is one of my best friends and I really can't picture him in a costume.
The five of us decided to go down to Church street again. The city closes the street for Halloween every year because it's such a huge party-slash-spectacle. I highly recommend it. There are so many costumes and music, it's kind of like Pride without the spectators and vendors.
Bert became an attraction almost immediately. Who knew that so many people want nothing more than to have their picture taken with the Queen?? He was loving it though. There were people practically lining up just to pose with him. I became an unofficial escort for him because it was hard for him to walk in his shoes. Since I'd only met him once before, it seemed a strangely intimate thing to do for him to be walking by my side, on my arm. There were a few times when I had to take a reality break and stop treating him like I was paid to protect him. Not that heels in a sewer grate aren't a bonafide hazard for anyone, much-less someone who'd never dressed in drag before.
Poppycock and Meaty headed home early, as I knew they would. As much as I love PC, he doesn't have a "good times" constitution. The nest is always calling his name. I wasn't ready to go home, but I was really cold. So I accepted an invitation to go back up to Ginger and Bert's apartment. Not knowing either of them, I was a little awkward, but Ginger and I have fooled around before. He's seen me naked.
And Bert, being new to the city, doesn't have many friends here and he's quite warm and receptive to the possibility of friends wherever he goes. I saw it in the conversation we had last night while I was walking him around, when we first met after Labour Day at a housewarming party and in the lobby of their building where he engaged two drag queens in conversation. Best advice of the evening dispensed from a man in a dress.... "Avoid boys in their 20's. I mean, you can Fuck 'em. But don't let 'em anywhere near your heart."
Where was this drag queen 2 years ago before I met Scooter?
I also noticed Bert has a rapport with the doorman of their building. And I think it's a good sign of character when someone speaks with respect and familiarity to someone who works where they live. I had a bit of a lengthy conversation with the doorman while we waited for 2 friends of the drag queens to see them as a complete troupe.
The doorman is an expatriated soldier from Afghanistan who fought for the "bad guys" for 9 years and gave it up to escape war altogether. He's been in Canada for 2 and a half months and can't believe his own luck that he's working in an apartment lobby in downtown Toronto.
That makes me smile too. We never know how good we've got it, til we meet someone who's grateful to do a job most of us would consider "beneath" our aspirations.
"Ginger" and "Bert" had originally asked me up to go in their hot tub, but I opted just to bundle-up and talk to them while they indulged in a dip. Bert's had one helluva life over the past 3 years. My heart went out to him. We really connected.
Post hot tub, we went back to their apartment and watched "House of Wax" on TV. An appropriate movie for Halloween night on many campy, gory levels. Bert had been commenting about my pants all night, so I let him try them on. Yes, I stood in my underwear in the living room of 2 practical strangers while one of them cooed over how nice my leather pants felt. Isn't being gay, free-spirited?
Song of the day... you might not like this one. New Dragonette. It's called "Animale" and I'd say it's risky business. Certainly not the propulsive, radio-friendly stuff they're known for. But I love the "datsik dubstep" remix. It's unusual. Makes me wanna grind. : ) No lyrics I could find. But I love the lines "Scratch at the door, your name is not on the list, go on n' show 'em your fangs, what kind of jungle is this?"