I owe you all two weekends worth of comedy, drama, tragedy and tales from the couch.
Rest was not on the agenda last weekend. Thursday night cocktails spilled into a disappearing Friday, into an on-the-go Saturday and a sprint of a Sunday and here we were back at Monday again.
BC emailed Thursday and asked if I’d like to be added to his gay bingo reservation. At first, I figured I’d say no. Weekends with the nasty cold weather have become premium hibernation times. I’ve been in the sweatpants from Friday to Sunday for a few weeks now and almost said no just to keep up the trend. In the end, I caved. Who could resist bingo (in a synagogue no less) complete with drag queen performers and sassy hosts on the microphone?
We arrived extra early since they tend to sell out and we were on the waiting list. Luckily, BC had pulled some strings and we had our very own table waiting on us. I bought a $2 bingo dabber (neon orange- with “comfort grip”), some nachos and a chicken sandwich, and tried to read up on the obscure rules for the “special games” before the night got started. BC and I didn’t win, unless you count the fun we had watching an adorable gentleman in a sequined sweater dash about. And a certain drag queen I know happened to be the performer at intermission, so I got to see her rake in the dollar bills from the adoring crowd.
We decided that if we couldn’t win at bingo, we could drive out to the gay bar in the boonies and see what they had to offer for the evening, so an impromptu road trip commenced. Unfortunately, after a silly thirty minutes on the highway we arrived to find it closed on a Saturday night. Just an excuse for us to turn back around and hit up the city for a night of bar hopping.
After a few bourbons, the fiance’ got off work and BC and I rendezvouzed at the after hours dance place to meet him. And that is when things got a little sour. Apparently the cocktails gave BC a little liquid courage and he decided to mention how we only get together when he calls me. Which led to me explaining that I assumed he was busy with his other friends and him coming back with something about my always being with the fiance’ and one more bourbon and one thing led to another and we were a girl and her gay misty-eyed at the bar at the injustice of it all. We pulled it together enough to get home and do it somewhat civilly, but things still felt a little bruised.
You see, we’re WASP-y. BC and I have managed to avoid shouting, tears, and general fussy-ness for eight years because we are both master conflict avoiders when it comes to one another and always have been. We both come from the ignore it and it will go away school. So I knew he had really been bothered if he brought it up. Which made me feel even worse come Sunday because there’s almost no one in the world I want to hurt less than BC. I love the fiance’, but BC is my gay husband.
Sunday to cheer me up, the fiance’ rented another Zipcar (that actually worked perfectly-yay!). We zoomed around, went to the Wal-Mart and wandered around baffled by the amount of stuff out there to be had. We popped over to see the mother-in-law and play with the remaining baby bunnies that haven’t yet been adopted. We went to see The Spiderwick Chronicles. We got take-out and curled up on the couch together until bedtime. It was a lovely Sunday all around.
And now for this weekend….