texting cover-up

where to begin. since my last post, things have taken a turn for the...very interesting.

potential gay boy (aka "prince charming" as dubbed by my friend) and I had been texting since we met up last week. we didn't have any set plans about when to meet up next, but we were keeping the momentum going. Saturday night rolls around, and I end up at a random house party with a few friends, hosted by some dude we just met at Bootie SF a week prior. well what a small city SF really is, because there we run in to not one, but two guys I have previously made out with, including prince charming, who had been so aloof about his weekend plans. and that's where things got weird...as in, way too normal. he was talking to me and my friends, I was talking to him and his friends, but there was zero evidence that any kiss had happened 2 days before.

FINALLY, we were alone in the kitchen. here was our chance to break the normalcy, away from our friends, away from prying eyes. our bodies close...so close that I could feel the heat of our impending kiss.....when he exclaimed: "why don't we go find your roommate?"

wait. what? 

and that's when I realized. the kiss was nothing more than a drunken mistake. one that made him awkward and ashamed. maintaining 2-3 texts a day was a way to keep things normal between us without admitting that the kiss was never supposed to happen. ouch. I'll guess I'll just tell myself that he actually is gay*.

fast forward to Sunday, St. Patrick's day. what do you get when you mix bottomless mimosas, bloody marys, beer, whiskey, and irish car bombs into one 5'2" body? an amazing, drunken Irish holiday. my girlfriend and I made our way from the mission to polk, where we met two interesting (maybe?), cute (I think...) dudes. my guy was a cop (I've never had a cop before!), and he was super sweet, showering me with compliments and telling me that we would go on dates. in my drunken stupor, I kissed him and told him I was happy.

and now, in my sober weekday state, I'm the one maintaining 2-3 texts a day, to keep things normal between us, without admitting that all those kisses were never supposed to happen. this last text though, I haven't yet had the heart to answer... it says: "let's meet up this weekend. Friday or Saturday?"

OH THE IRONY.

*none of my gay sources could confirm this, unfortunately.