The Unitarian Church hosts regular "circle suppers," where eight or so people assigned "at random" meet at someone's house for a potluck. It's not really random: I am usually assigned to a group consisting of mostly gay people.
But the other night my group consisted of four heterosexual couples and me.
Still, I was rather looking forward to it, since last time I went to a completely straight party, I met a cute college boy, the host's son, and we dated for about six months. I've had good luck meeting guys so far in 2017. Could lightning strike twice?
No. The couples were all "my age" (chronologically, anyway), which means that their kids had all "got married and moved away."
Well, maybe the food would be good.
No. Craggy, tasteless chicken enchiladas, green beans with a weird minty tang, a macaroni salad loaded with mayonnaise, and two kinds of cheesecake. Plus a lot of alcohol.
Beefcake? Half the fun of gay parties is cruising the new guys.
No. I'm fine with older men, but they should know their way around a gym. Three of the heteros were sagging, wrinkled, and speckled, "my age" but about 100 in gay years. The fourth was obese, with ham-hands and medic id bracelets and complaints of sciatica.
An enormous penis would make up for any number of physique imperfections, but of course at a straight party men don't typically get naked.
Well, maybe the conversation would be ok. At gay parties, we start with conversations about gay subtexts or actual gay characters in books, movies, and tv programs.
"Has anyone seen Sleepless yet? I hear it has a kidnapped son, instead of the usual kidnapped daughter."They talk about quarterhorses, the use of Amazon Kindle way up in the mountains where there's no electricity, scuba diving in the Caribbean, and how you would like to die (the consensus was: instantaneously while on the way home from a nice dinner with your husband or wife).
The full post, with nude photos, is on Tales of West Hollywood.