Bob has to work today, and later he's going to watch his brother play in some kind of sports match, so I'm on my own until 10:00 pm.
Fortunately, the Straight World loves its special events: there are about 15 things going on today.
I figure I'll go to some, and choose a twink from the dozen or so who will no doubt be approaching me with invitations and phone numbers, and bring him home to Bob as a surprise "share." Lately I really enjoy the sight of Bob and another guy kissing.
I can't resist a book sale. You have to sift through a lot of bodice-ripper mysteries and "chicken soup for the soul" books, but you can still come up with some interesting finds, like Kafka's The Trial and Mysterious Wales.
The only book-buyer under 100 is a blond guy pushing a baby carriage. I always find young dads attractive. Not much in the face department, but hot veiny hands and a slight bicep bulge. He'd be fun to unwrap.
He gives me a suspicious glance.
11:00: Art Fair
About a dozen tents on a blocked-off street, with vendors selling arts and crafts. Live music. There's a buffed college aged guy in a Superman t-shirt at a tent selling ceramic pots.
"Are you the potter?" I ask.
"No, it's my Dad. He can't be here until later."
He doesn't cruise.
I buy a pot from him anyway, and make hand-to-hand contact as I pay.
Nothing.
1:00 pm: Gym
The YMCA is usually a bust; I typically get cruised only by little kids. Sure enough, a kid who looks around ten keeps staring at me and following me around.
There are two twink brothers working out. Hispanic, which is unusual on the Plains. I try to make eye contact. The older brother ignores me; the younger gives me a suspicious glance.
3:00 Department Picnic
I have to attend, even though I detest eating outside, and I dislike meeting the bored spouses and constantly-texting kids of the other faculty members.
5:00: Bier on the Boulevard
The local Octoberfest, with oompah-music and a lot of fat guys drinking beer. A little bit of beefcake: a buffed, shirtless guy walking his dog and two twinks on skateboards. They ignore me.
7:00 pm: Art Exhibition
Juried art exhibition with 100 works by local artists, awards for 20 finalists.
My ex-boyfriend Dustin is there; I spend the next hour trying to be polite without latching onto him.
I talk to another guy that I know from an antique shop in town.
One of the prize winners is short and very muscular, with a severe military haircut and a scruffy beard. He says that he didn't even know he was entered until last week: his sister entered the piece for him, and gave it a title.
Sister, not girlfriend? Must be gay.
A little flirting, but no hookup, and no phone number for later.
Today has been fun, but frustrating. I really wanted to impress Bob by bringing home a surprise "share."
Besides, being a twink magnet is a point of pride for me. I can walk into any bar, any restaurant, the doctor's office, the subway, and get approached by someone under age 30.
What happened? Am I getting too old?
I haven't had any dinner, so I drop into the gay-friendly coffee house for a grilled chicken sandwich to go. It's deserted, with only one guy ahead of me: a hippie, tall, gaunt, with frizzy hair, a frizzy beard, a big nose, and tattooed hands, swaying a little as he asks the difference between a small and a large. Smells of marijuana. Not at all my type.
After I put in my order, I smile at him and ask "Having a nice evening?"
"Just got off work. Got to grab a veggie burger then go home and crash -- you know, smoke a bowl, watch Netflix."
"You ever see that show Ozark?" I ask. "It's pretty cool. It stars Jason Bateman. I dated his ex-boyfriend back in L.A."
"Really? Bateman's gay?"
"Oh, please, I lived in L.A. for 13 years. I have stories..."
11:00 pm: The rest of the story, with nude photos and sexual situations, is on Tales of West Hollywood.