Time To Get My Eyes Checked

The Folsom Street Fair was surprisingly tame. I was much more scandalized by the LoveFest on Saturday. Straight people parading nude down Market Street in afro wigs is somehow more shocking than 100,000 gay men invading the city in leather chaps.

My awesome white Lego shirt came to an untimely end last night. My shirt came off for the millionth time, only to land on a dirty wet floor. The walk of shame this morning was CLASSY. My hair was sticking up all over. My shirt was filthy. I looked like a homeless person, which I must admit had some benefits. People get the hell out of your way when you look like you could ask them for change at any given time.

I left the bar at 9pm last night. In the three hours I was there, I saw:
* Lesbians fingering each other
* The bartender's triple pierced cock
* The same bartender go down on multiple patrons
* Hot optometrist from LA beg me to let him go down on me in the middle of the bar
* The same hot optometrist having sex ten minutes later in the bathroom
* A handsome, slightly nerdy guy named Jimmy ineptly trying to flirt with me

I almost missed the last one. I blew him off twice, but he came back again later to try and get to talk to me. Thank god the man is persistent. After he ditched his friends to stay and talk to me, he pulled out the old "let's go to my place and snuggle and talk" line, which I fell for. Hell, I almost fell for that when a woman tried to take me home from the Zoo. What I don't think he counted on was me sticking to my prudey guns. After cuddling all night with Jimmy, he seemed to be more comfortable around me, which made for a pleasant ride to the Bart station.