Probably because I haven’t written in forever, and mostly cause there was this whole entire thing about a redhead that I never even told you about.

Not really a thing, mind you. I mean, it definitely was a “thing” to me but you would probably look at it and decide in the grand scheme of things, it was hardly “thing” status.

Okay, so basically it is a crush, and as juvenile as that may sound for a grown ass man it’s probably the most accurate description. And really though, if you could just see him you would hardly blame me.

Freckles, god damn it, freckles! And the gorgeous baking of pies and fantastic appreciation of cupcakes complete with knowledge of where to get good ones in the city.

And tall like, “God dammit you are one tall motherfucker”. The kind of tall you want to climb and scale like a mountain. The kind of sexy you want to slap a saddle on.

I did my best to let him know I liked him by utilizing some of my signature moves:

keeping lips moisturized
random touching of him, but not inappropriately
volunteer work (i.e. help set up his TiVo or wireless network)
baking of cupcakes
outfit journal to keep from doing repeats
first consideration for my plus one at concerts
eye winks
sharing of drugs
getting him drunk as much as possible
etc.

But alas, we’ve been treading the same lukewarm water. And while definitely not hostile, and sometimes even flirty, it never really reaches the boiling point. It never really gets to the “OH MY GOD YOU NEED TO GET INSIDE ME IMMEDIATELY” point of unbridled passion. The kind where all you can focus on is getting naked.

But far be it from me to avert my attention from an uninterested man. Would you even recognize me if I turned into the type that simply leaves well enough alone? The sort that sees a mistake coming a mile away?

So anyway Backstory Complete. I didn’t mean to get all VH1 Behind the Music on you, but I figured a quick catch-up was in order. SOOOOOOO…

This Saturday was the holiday party out in Barrington, over at the Rock Star Chef and his boyfriends’ house.

Which is totally another story unto itself that I can’t get into now

And Miss Valium does her fag hag duty and manages to get FRECKLES driving in the same car as us, ensuring that we walk into a busy party with him, and essentially guaranteeing he’d be at my side for the first hour or so, until a few drinks were had and party nerves had settled. Which totally works by the way.

We spent time outside, around a fire pit, enjoying the unseasonably 55 degree weather. He spills the beans about serving two days in prison. I sneak puffs off his cigarettes when noone is looking. I share all my coke with him which really gets him wound up. We walk the back deck like a runway making the guests laugh from behind windows. We agree that the string arrangement that opens Siouxsie’s “Hong Kong Garden” in the movie Marie Antoinette is magic. And for a few minutes or so, everything is perfect. I am the perfect combination of uninhibited drunk and high. He laughs and looks right into my eyes. On the stoop, our ankles touched. A cigarette takes too long to pass between our fingers.

And here’s where it should have happened. You’re with me, right? You felt the momentum build, no? Surely he was going to kiss me. I mean for the love of GOD kiss me … Christmas, firepit, stars, drunk WHAT MORE DO YOU NEED?

But no. No kiss.

Instead he turns his attention to some undesirable something or other. Something fattish and shortish wearing glasses. A beard that possible was speckled with food bits. Something that probably spent its entire adolescence rolling a six sided die.

And I ask you people? How could I even compare with that … that … thing? That fashion disaster with ungroomed facial hair? I should have learned then. I should have realized. I should have let it go, counted my losses.

Of course what I did instead was demand to nearly everyone else in attendance that their conversation had to be stopped IMMEDIATELY. That if anyone valued my friendship they would get to work on prying Freckles away from this weird little Peter Jackson looking person and pretty much acted like a giant baby about it until I had ruined everything and it was time to go home, safely passed out in someone’s backseat.

So, when do you think I should call him again??????