I came home late. I went out with friends and spent the evening celebrating the end of an apartment and the beginning of a birthday, with several gay men continually feeling up my corset-bound waist.
Heyyy! You’re here! Oh my god you’re overdressed!
Ya. But a lovely time! I was going to join them at a club (for the record, I’ve never been clubbing). We marched two by two tipsily to the bar, adding a shiny pink and metallic sash to the chest of the birthday boy and thus labeling him “Brides Maid”. The bar had a thick line up. A tantalizing slice of window was not covered with blacking, and the yellow and pink flashing lights bounced off the bodies onto the street. It was a strobe effect, and remarkably inaudible, as if we were deaf.
For all that I was overdressed for my group, the carefully cultured casual look that the men around me sported made me feel unprepared. I am a simpleton in fashion. They wore bizarre shorts and tank tops with cuts that I never see in the daylight, alternately tight and loose – on the same body. Sandals are apparently in.
I had my bike. With that and the corset I stood out like a hobo at a networking wine and cheese. It’s not like I was the only lady, but I was the only one getting looks like I was Ugly Betty. It was the same kind of look they all gave the length of the line: scorn and bravado. Oh well.
1am hit before we could go in, and I said goodbye to bike home. Not in the corset. I changed on the street. Nudity at 1am!
I couldn’t sleep well. I dreamt that Patrick’s opa (grandfather) was falling into a swimming pool. My family and I were swimming in it, diving up and down like dolphins. It was a multidimensional swimming pool. It not only lacked increasing pressure as you got deeper, it also existed in multiple dimensions, so you could switch between them as if you were walking between rooms using a TV remote. One moment you’re in one by yourself, next moment back with everyone else. It must have been three stories high, and lacked any boundaries that actually kept the water from spilling into the cavernous underground tower that housed the pool. But Opa was sitting by the pool and he fell in and I woke up.
I went to the grocery store after Sunday morning choir – I wanted to make Patrick his favourite soup, carrot-ginger, as a welcome home treat. Instead I fell asleep on the bed, completely zonked.