My BF and I went to the gay pride celebrations in New York City last weekend. Toward the end of the pier dance a lot of people were turning the event into a “grope-a-nanza,” which was made easy by the jam-packed conditions. I was standing behind my BF and he was pressed tight against the butt of some boy. As the fireworks were going off, the guy that my BF was pushed up against reached around and started massaging my BF’s crotch. Focused on the fireworks, I didn’t notice right away. When I did, I asked, “What’s going on here?” My BF ignored me.
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On the way to the club, my BF and his friend took a tab of ecstasy each. Once we’re at the club, my BF suddenly French-kisses this guy. My BF doesn’t say a word. At this point they announce that they’re going to the bathroom. I wait at the top of the stairs. After waiting an inordinate amount of time, I go downstairs to keep them company. When I get there, I find the BF, his friend, and some other guy engaged in a French kiss/group hug/massage/grope. At 4 AM I decided to leave and headed for the door. On my way out I look down at the dance floor only to see that the French kiss/group hug/massage/grope has resumed.
–Getting Over Pride
I’d like to pass on some advice to Helpless Lacerated Heart (the chick competing with the computer for her programmer-geek boyfriend’s affections). I dated a programmer for ten years and wound up marrying him. Everything went to hell after we got married. I’d cook dinner and watch it get cold before he could tear himself away from his computer. And sex? I’d go into the computer room and try everything–touching, rubbing, begging–and his reply was always, “Maybe later.”
–Still a Geek
