The shenanigans were to take place at my house. I was a bit nervous for some dumb reason (because I wanted everything to be great) and then, of course, was running late.
The Drummer arrived first per my instructions. I knew I’d need to get my hands on him before others arrived. When he walked in I was so very glad to see him. It had been 3 whole days! Now we had talked on the phone somewhere around 8 hours over those three days but still…. I just kissed his face off. He kissed me right back. I worked on dinner and asked him to make Old-Fashioned’s for us. He’s very good at it. He now has this job.
The gay bestie arrived. We drank Old-Fashioned’s and talked. I had not seen him since our trip to Colorado. This is unacceptable and must never happen again. That is over a month. God it was good to see him and hug his neck. He and The Drummer got along swimmingly.
I made chicken pesto pasta, asparagus, and garlic bread. The Wine Therapy Badass arrived with salad, wine and carrot cake. Yummm.
As the four of us sat at the table drinking, talking, laughing I realized that I had become close to these amazing people all in the last year. I didn’t know any of them before the Year of Sluttery. I met the gay bestie in my first grad school class last June. We became besties last fall. I met Wine Therapy Badass from a Verdant Wolf Woman this spring. And The Drummer… three weeks. (We missed you V. Wolf Woman. Get better.)
Even though I had been nervous everything turned out fine, better than fine, it was grand. The food was good, the wine was excellent and the company was perfect. This is something I’ve wanted my whole life, to host friends for dinners, drinks, dancing, games and general shenanigans.
I’ve never had it.
The Hillbilly was so strange around company and also just didn’t want people around and also I didn’t feel comfortable having people drop by.
Hoppy was the same way, very private. Shit I lived a mile from my growing up best friend and I don’t think we ever had her over. It was also me. I always felt everything had to be perfect, perfectly clean house, perfect food, blah blah blah. I felt people would judge. And it’s highly possible they would have.
When I moved to the loft last year I wanted to start the whole having friends over thing but parking downtown is a total bitch and after inviting some people to hang several times and getting not even a response I gave up. (Funny enough the menz always found parking.)
But gay bestie came along and so began our tradition of meeting at my place for pre-drinks and dancing, going out for drinks and dancing and then Ubering or walking back to my place where he crashed on the couch (I always put a glass of water and Tylenol on the coffee table near his passed out self), then I’d make breakfast for us the next morning before he took off. I always felt so comfortable with him, never worried he’d judge me whatsoever.
The Wine Therapy Badass and The Drummer are not judge-y either. At all. Which I realized as we sat there. I’d been nervous for no reason. I’ll try not to do it again. Gracious I know I haven’t known these people very long but it was like coming home, well to a home where you are accepted fully.
When COVID is over watch out bitches.
I want to have dance parties in the yard, front porch wine drinking, theme cocktail parties, holiday celebrations, board game nights and so forth. (Lizzzzzzz if you are reading we will have fun with dressing up!)
At age 55 I feel like I’m on the cusp of creating a life I’ve always wanted.
What the fuck lol. Talk about a late bloomer….
Photo by fauxels on Pexels.com