Danny woke me up with a call at 10 AM! Christ, I’ve known the guy for, like, 15 years or something, you’d think he’d know better than to call me that early. Having not seen him in over four years, I pretended to already be awake. We decided to not decide what to do but that he and John would pick me up at 11.
It was great to see him again after so long and I’m really glad we’re still friends after all this time. He looked great despite a touch of the lipodystrophy. I think he’s kind of self-conscious about it but, as I said to him, the alternative is even less pretty. I love him and I’m especially happy that he’s sharing his life with someone he loves. That’s not what I’m looking for and any potential partners of mine should be relieved about that, trust me.
Delicious breakfast at Jimmy’s Egg, a local chainette of breakfast/lunch joints. Then a quick trip to Old Navy to buy my favorite Mechanic’s Jacket in this year’s dark grey ($10 off!!), and a visit to Danny and John’s house to meet the dogs and the cat, who nearly coughed up a hairball on my hand. I didn’t take it personally.
We went to see The Incredibles. It was really fun! After a deadly dull first half hour it finally became an exciting, satisfying action movie. I don’t buy the criticism that it’s a conservative, family-values screed, by the way. That’s a preposterous idea. These characters are obviously unhappy being domesticated. Please.
Anyway, a short nap and then, hopefully, some more play.
Less than an hour after I checked in, I looked up from “Under the Banner of Heaven” to see this guy looking into my room, asking if he could come in. I wish this crappy camera-phone pic did him justice; he’s really sexy. After he made himself comfortable he said “I bet you think I'm a hustler.” I didn’t but he was, of course. After I told him that I wasn't going to pay him for sex, he said, “But I‘ll do anything for $20!’” Oh, what the hell? Who am I to deny a crackhead his fix? Besides, we all pay for sex somehow.
I just checked into the Habana Inn, Oklahoma City, OK. In case you haven’t been paying attention, the Habana is a gay “resort,” in other words, a sex club masquerading as a motel. I’m here to visit friends, maybe work and, mostly, plow some Great Plains ass.