Last night, I went to the Broken Fingaz block party at Masada St. Here’s the poster:
It was alot of fun. I met Shaniqua and a friend of hers there, and we ended up meeting two new friends, Beret and GossipGirl. Some of the pack and extension were there. I also saw some people I hadn’t seen in awhile.
…and for the first time in 15 years, I had disappointed/jealous guy and woefully distracted player issues, and was offered unlimited free beer.
At some point, Shaniqua and her friend wanted to go get some beer. In their rush, they missed noticing that a guy I’d met a few years ago stopped me and gave me a hug. While girls around him were circling like so many sharks, and occasionally flirting, he somehow held me in focus, thanked me for teaching him how to make cheese back then, and offered me beer…as much as I want. He was running the stand with a friend of his. His friend was cool with it too.
So we’re talking, and he’s doing the natural protective-territorial body language-touching thing, and apparently one of his bitches got a little jealous, and imposed. He shoots me a look (exasperated eyeroll) because by now he knows I’m pretty fluent in Manian. So I grinned, chuckled, and stepped back to watch the show. One by one, and often not very patiently, each of his bitches in the vicinity did their attention whoring thing.
I drank my beer, and returned to my friends. He caught up with me later, but then had to go back and man the stand. It was certainly interesting.
Later, dancing near Shaniqua, Jules, and I, was a familiar face. So I asked him if he was who I thought he was, this AWESOME jazz guitarrist I’d seen playing at Cafe Netto some years ago. I stumbled over some Hebrew to try to express to him how great he was, and how happy I was to finally see him again, and he blushed and stumbled over some English…and then out of nowhere comes Diva, a very flamboyant, old school Gay friend of mine, piss drunk and nearly falling over.
So I had to be a gentle(wo)man, and gave the guitarrist an apologetic look, half dancing with Diva, and half trying to hold him up. I realized from the unmasked disappointment and pouting, that my relationship with Diva was being misinterpreted.
…but being me, I cared more about making sure my friend was okay. So Diva was the priority. I managed to convince him to let me walk him to the Carmelit station.
After the party was over, Shaniqua and I went with the new friends to a felafel and grill in hadar. Then we came home in a taxi, and the driver who happens to be from New Jersey flirted with me a bit. So all in all, it was a strange but good night. Apparently, the weight loss has made me less invisible.
I’m not going into a former fatty sluttery phase though. I’m way too old for that. I’ll just enjoy the attention, and muse to myself about people’s superficiality.