Isn't it funny how just when you announce you are out of creative steam a new geyser erupts? And all it took was me getting off my duff and staying out on a Friday past 9pm.
As you know, I am a fan of our grassroots gay scene downtown. One gay night I love is the bi-weekly Fierce Hot Mess dance party at Oslo. Now as much as I love it, I've been actually pretty remiss in attending over this winter season. It seems every time I plan to attend I go home to disco nap and wake up at 3am. Or else I have other plans that don't entail downtown. Or I am clinically depressed and can't leave the house.
Last night I finally had enough momentum going at 11 o'clock to hit FHM. Unfortunately it seemed to be an off night, so while I saw a lot of people I knew, there wasn't the usual party scene going on. Sometimes I wonder if being bi-weekly causes events in general to suffer a bit, cuz when you are thinking of skipping you can always say, "well, I'll go in two weeks." But when it's monthly, you need to get up and get your dance on or you've got a long wait. I dunno, I'm clearly no expert on promoting.
Anyway, I had some fun people to hang out with and I met some new folks so it was good for me. We danced a little bit, hung out, and then decided to head over to D'Mongo's a block over in Capitol Park.
D'Mongo's turned out to be hopping, with a nice saucy gay presence (that wasn't entirely our group). That place is just really so cool, everytime I go is a good time. Anyway, I ended up chatting with this cute boy I'd met at Oslo and we were talking about this and that, and it turned out we went to the same high school. So of course he asked what year I graduated. I told him and there was a pause, and then he said, "That's the year I was born."
Wellll, yeah so that was funny. We did have a fun chat though and now we might be text buddies and that's always a good time. But I put a blurb about it as my facebook status and was accused of being a cougar. A spirited debate ensued about what you call a man-cougar.
A "mougar"? Kinda creepy sounding.
Then my friend Christy came up with "manther." Much better than mougar. And WAY better than Saturday Night Live's offering "cougay." Manther is solid gold.
And apparently I am one, or at least was that night. I can't help it, boys like the moostash (emphasis on the second syllable, natch).
It was great just to bust out of my rut, though. This winter has been rough, and I only wish I had busted out sooner.