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I had the hottest non-date of my life today: the Siberian Siren. If you'll recall, I met the SS way back in February at Bang for the Buck when I encountered an absolutely stunning little femme who proved to be, yes, queer and nice enough, but taken.
From the Dept. of Small World: the SS's girlfriend L works at one of my favorite places, Re-bar. That's why L recognized me at her DJ gig at ETG the night before Pride, thereby freaking me out because I couldn't remember her name (I didn't even know it until the SS told me a few minutes later.) and how I recognized her.
Naturally, the SS was there too, looking lovely on the dance floor. This time I tracked down L and then the SS using Zuckerberg's Data Mine, sent the SS a message, didn't hear back, and uncharacteristically forgot about it.
Until the SS responded two weeks ago on the first day of my new job. We made plans for coffee today, which morphed into brunch at Glo's when minor calamities befell the SS. While waiting the 45 minutes (!) for Glo's mighty fine food, we hit Mishu and got our femme on, but good.* When it was time for me to go, the SS lamented that she didn't have anyone to shop with. "Well, now you do," I said. I meant it. We have even more in common than I thought earlier. It's not that bad that she's not into me.
And yes, she looks as good on a Saturday morning as she does when she's going out at night. I felt distinctly under-accessorized, but I'm glad I at least made an effort; I couldn't have lived with myself otherwise.
I spent so much time with the SS that I couldn't get to the one branch of my bank in Seattle before they closed. I ran from the bus stop, and that's probably how the check that Nibs wrote from the other account got dislodged from the outer pocket of my bag. (Yeah, I should have put it in my wallet. Shush.) If I'm lucky, that check is still blowing around South Lake Union, and no one will ever try to cash it. Nibs is justifiably peeved.
Hey, I needed some nice, work-appropriate tops. And goths, you should see what's upstairs at the back!
From the Dept. of Small World: the SS's girlfriend L works at one of my favorite places, Re-bar. That's why L recognized me at her DJ gig at ETG the night before Pride, thereby freaking me out because I couldn't remember her name (I didn't even know it until the SS told me a few minutes later.) and how I recognized her.
Naturally, the SS was there too, looking lovely on the dance floor. This time I tracked down L and then the SS using Zuckerberg's Data Mine, sent the SS a message, didn't hear back, and uncharacteristically forgot about it.
Until the SS responded two weeks ago on the first day of my new job. We made plans for coffee today, which morphed into brunch at Glo's when minor calamities befell the SS. While waiting the 45 minutes (!) for Glo's mighty fine food, we hit Mishu and got our femme on, but good.* When it was time for me to go, the SS lamented that she didn't have anyone to shop with. "Well, now you do," I said. I meant it. We have even more in common than I thought earlier. It's not that bad that she's not into me.
And yes, she looks as good on a Saturday morning as she does when she's going out at night. I felt distinctly under-accessorized, but I'm glad I at least made an effort; I couldn't have lived with myself otherwise.
I spent so much time with the SS that I couldn't get to the one branch of my bank in Seattle before they closed. I ran from the bus stop, and that's probably how the check that Nibs wrote from the other account got dislodged from the outer pocket of my bag. (Yeah, I should have put it in my wallet. Shush.) If I'm lucky, that check is still blowing around South Lake Union, and no one will ever try to cash it. Nibs is justifiably peeved.
Hey, I needed some nice, work-appropriate tops. And goths, you should see what's upstairs at the back!
