Manny came over last night. He's dumped all of his other boyfriends and now it is back to me. Damn! That wasn't the plan. Go find someone else, will ya, it would make everything much easier. Let me get on with my life. I need to start screwing around, he hates that... even if he does. Go figure.
He even used the "L" word, twice. Eek! Danger, danger Will Robinson!
We went to the supermarket together. We had on matching lambswool lined jackets, just by chance. I didn't realise until he was heading up one of the isles towards me. We must have looked like a couple of stereotypical poofters. (my spell checker wants to change poofters to puppeteers - has someone from blogger been watching us have sex?) I hate that. Not sure why? Something about not fitting in and hiding the truth from the world for all those years when I was young, I guess. You know, some childhood psycho trauma, no doubt.
Good thing I live in one of the gayest suburbs in town... so naturally, my supermarket is also one of the gayest.
Anyway, I'm off to Bolago - the call has come in. With every other telecommunication device I've got, this morning. My two phones and emails have been running hot from all over the country.
So much for a quiet Saturday morning... a bit of weed, a gentle relax. I was heading back to bed. Bugger!
Shit! I've got 3/4 of an hour to shower, get my shit together and leave the house. Crap! Wish me luck.
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