It’s Wednesday and it’s usually the day that is the hump, but for me, it feels like I’ve been humped. And it’s not a good feeling. I suppose it all started last night, coming home after 3 Heinekens with well dressed suit and tie wearing gay men in a lounge in Chelsea. These guys were nice, no funny business or groping, just a social thing. They looked good and they in turn told me that I looked good. Yes, those compliments carried me home. Karma paid off in the way that the train appeared at the station soon after I showed up on the platform and there was a bus waiting for me at the bus terminal.

I came home to find Bill who was close to flat lining a zombie sitting in front of the TV. He had tried to sleep and got an hour or two but woke up and couldn’t get back. Now, I was buzzed when I came home and Bill remarked how good I looked. I replied, ‘I know. I’ve been hearing it all night.’ Then I proceeded to tell him about what I had done and where I had been and I wasn’t rubbing it in his face, but I have a sneaky suspicion that he took it as that. I tried to make things better by telling him that the underwear I washed for him was on the keyboards.

Being a zombie, he grunted and kissed me good night before shuffling off to bed again. I sat and wrote. Didn’t really think about how he might have taken my going out and having a good time. He does his thing and I do mine. I’m sure he envisioned the bacchanal that used to happen at the men in suits parties we used to attend and where we had met. It wasn’t. Everyone kept their clothes on and their members tucked away. I didn’t see any erections and I wasn’t looking for them either. Soon enough, I too went to sleep.

Woke up ok this morning, Bill was off and running and I did my shower and breakfast routine reveling in the glamor of it all. I finished up and started walking to the bus stop. The bus pulled up when I was across the street from the stop but couldn’t cross in time due to the unusual amount of traffic on the street. It was unusual since there is hardly any at 7:30 in the morning. The bus pulled away and I waited for the next one due a few minutes later.

I got to the office on time and started things up. Since there’s a new program on all the computers things are a bit askew. I’m supposed to know when people come in for an interview but I haven’t lately. That’s generally ok except for one applicant. She comes in and I give her the rundown, sign in here, fill out these forms, here’s where you can hang up your coat etc. She goes, Oh I’ll keep it on, I have so many things in my pockets. Whatevs.

I give her the paperwork when she goes, ‘Oh I just hate filling out forms, don’t you?’ ‘Uh, no. It doesn’t bother me.’ ‘You don’t have to be so rude.’ Rude? I said this at 3:00, I was tired, not rude. I said it in such a lackadaisical way too. I figure this chick is a nut job. I excuse myself and tell the guy she’s supposed to meet that this one is crazy. It’s one of my jobs to suss people out and this one was in the red. He met with her and after she left he goes, she was nice. Another counselor mentioned that the nut job must have been ok, she smiled at the counselor.

Oh, ok. It must be me then. I know it wasn’t me. They will send this nut out on an interview and she’ll be rude to the next receptionist. I have to get out of this place. I think Annemarie was right. Once again.

Tuesday. An alright day. Nothing special. Bill was at his folks once again, his dad needing to go to some physical therapy at the Veteran’s Administration hospital once again. I just hung out at home solo, Juan at school, and watched a documentary on Eleanor Roosevelt on PBS. It was good, but not good enough to hold my attention after 11:00. I knew how it ended anyway. She seemed great and so many idiots hated her for doing the things that she did. She was no Hillary Clinton I’ll tell you, though the animosity towards Eleanor is probably on par with Hillary phobia.

No jazz in this apartment last night which of course led to some rather intense dreams. I won’t get into it, but they aren’t the relaxing type of dreaming. Usually punctuated by me sitting upright in bed saying, ‘What the fuck was that?” That happened a few times last night. I woke up at 5:00, then 5:30, then 6:00. I wasn’t distressed since I knew all I would have to do is close my eyes again and I’d be back asleep. That worked until 6:30, when I knew I really had to get out of bed and start my day. That meant making my own coffee since Bill wasn’t around to do it.

That was no problem since I have been making my own coffee since I was 10 years old. And it wasn’t Martinson’s coffee. I used Goya Espresso coffee. Rocket fuel. I’ve been using that for years ever since I lost my jumper cables. I walked up to Washington Street after doing the routine, coffee, cereal, showering. I wore my black Sean John suit since I had plans after work and I wanted to look relatively good. White French cuff shirt, silver Pierre Cardin tie. I did look good. Almost bangin’.

Work was boring once again. And no fish were biting on the resume lines I threw out the past couple of days. Everyone in the office continued wrestling with the new program that all the databases had migrated to. I hadn’t been involved with that so I just surfed the net all day which was relatively fun for the first hour, but there are only so many things you can look up in wikipedia, and reading the International Herald Tribune can wear you down sometimes. SFGate was ok too. I listened to River Deep Mountain High by Ike and Tina Turner and three Todd Rundgren songs among others.

After work I walked down to Chelsea, puffing on a Padron. I was headed to G Lounge in Chelsea. An online friend, Tim has been after me to attend a gathering of men in suits and ties, hence my wanting to look as good as possible. I wandered around Chelsea not wanting to be the first one there. I wasn’t when I walked in at 7:10. I met some guys that I had chatted with years ago and it was nice to meet them and it seemed they were glad to meet me. But after three Heinekens it was time to go after an hour. I had to come home and write this.

The company was nice but of course the music sucked. Oh that house music. How I hate it so. Now I’m home, Bill is in bed at 9:30 since he sleeps on a sofa bed and didn’t really sleep last night, but he was having difficulty sleeping tonight. I plan to go back to Tim’s gathering again. It was fun to be socializing. I have learned though that as much as I enjoy seeing a guy dressed in a suit and tie, it really doesn’t do anything for me otherwise.