Sunday afternoons during the summer mean warm long shadows as the Sun takes its sweet time to set. For me it means heading over to our local bear bar for Beer Bust. A long standing tradition of beers, beards, and buds. You can tell the beer bust is in high season by the metal cattle fencing surrounding the bar’s parking lot turned play space for the bears, otters, and other animal themed male homosexuals.
This really is the time to connect with old friends. I get to have a couple quality hours without the pressure of everyday life; it’s less about hanging out in a bar and more about hanging out with friends. Old and new.
This last Sunday I had the chance to spend time chatting with a good friend I met way back in 2004 when I first moved back to Denver. I consider him a long-time bud. We were given some time to catch up on our lives, flirt a little, and generally spend time enjoying each other’s company. Please don’t ask me his name. I can’t remember.
Moving from Dallas to Denver was pretty traumatic. Leaving the gay ghetto, they had to peel my fingers from the door jamb of my beloved gay gym. When settled in Denver the first thing I did was to sign up at Denver’s small gay club, Broadway Bodyworks. This helped the decompression to a city without a centralized gay neighborhood. Around this time was when I met ___. We started to match our workout times to get more gym hangout time. We have been great buds ever since. Well, all but that small part where he greets me with “Hey! Steve! How’s it going?” And I once again, have to stumble over saying hey…. handsome. It’s been 8 years, how frickin horrible is it that I can’t remember his name.
Yes, I have tried all the games of introducing him to other friends, yet it seems that his name never comes up. “This is my good friend________. We’ve known each other since ’04.”
Maybe I should ask him to friend me on Facebook?
This really is the time to connect with old friends. I get to have a couple quality hours without the pressure of everyday life; it’s less about hanging out in a bar and more about hanging out with friends. Old and new.
This last Sunday I had the chance to spend time chatting with a good friend I met way back in 2004 when I first moved back to Denver. I consider him a long-time bud. We were given some time to catch up on our lives, flirt a little, and generally spend time enjoying each other’s company. Please don’t ask me his name. I can’t remember.
Moving from Dallas to Denver was pretty traumatic. Leaving the gay ghetto, they had to peel my fingers from the door jamb of my beloved gay gym. When settled in Denver the first thing I did was to sign up at Denver’s small gay club, Broadway Bodyworks. This helped the decompression to a city without a centralized gay neighborhood. Around this time was when I met ___. We started to match our workout times to get more gym hangout time. We have been great buds ever since. Well, all but that small part where he greets me with “Hey! Steve! How’s it going?” And I once again, have to stumble over saying hey…. handsome. It’s been 8 years, how frickin horrible is it that I can’t remember his name.
Yes, I have tried all the games of introducing him to other friends, yet it seems that his name never comes up. “This is my good friend________. We’ve known each other since ’04.”
Maybe I should ask him to friend me on Facebook?
I hope you don't forget our names
ReplyDeleteIf you do that, he might ask why you didn't find him on FB and send the request.
ReplyDeleteHow about trying to get his phone #. you could say his was deleted or entered wrong. Have him call you.
Ask for a business card.
For YEARS - this guy and I exchange nods at the gym. He is adorable. ...and now it's too late to ask him his name. And no one else seems to know who I'm talking about.
ReplyDeleteI wonder if he's an imaginary friend.
Go with a friend. Tell the friend ahead of time that you are going to introduce him to this guy, and then have your friend say, "I'm Mike, and your name is...?"
ReplyDeleteProblem solved. :-)
This sort of thing happens to me with a frequency I'm afraid to admit. Too funny. I empathize.
ReplyDelete