Am I completely crazy for being offended when I meet an out-of-towner and chat and hang out for 5 hours, in no way really looking to hook up – but the possibility was there – only to have him ditch me at Rawhide to go “pee”. I knew full well that, as a first timer, he had been delighted to find out what really happens in the “women’s” bathroom there. He returned 15 minutes later and made a joke about how he couldn’t pee with all those people “around him” and I joked in return. He said he was going to try again to pee, and again entered the darkness. After I finished my diet coke I walked back to pee myself and the room with the urinal was completely empty. I went back to the bartender and ordered another water. Another 20 minutes later I was done drinking and I saw him leave the “women’s bathroom” and stand in the back room – where people wait around and cruise for sex.. he had figured that out.

I walked up to him on my way out and told him I thought he was rude for leaving me to get a blowjob.

Am I insane to think that 5 hours of really fun conversation deems more than a “I’m going to the bathroom” dismissal?

I dunno. Common decency is becoming less and less common. A simple “I had fun, I think I’m gonna go in the back for a while. I hope to see you tomorrrow” would have been nice.

Maybe it’s just a soft spot for me.

To whom it may concern,

You are an asshole.

Sincerely,
Vincent Macaluso

Yes, you knew it was coming.

I ate way too much much sushi at the Wasabi with my friends and drank way too much free birthday vodka at the bars by myself.

I almost called 911 to report a murder: someone had killed Thursday night. The French Quarter was a ghost town last night.

Of the few people that were out, there was two other people at The Pub celebrating birthdays. i.e. bitches trying to steal my thunder.

The more I go out the more reasons I come up with to jump this miserable ship of a city. It’s the same 100 pretentious Abercrombie and Bitch/Hollister wearing, twink starved suburbanites rotated around from night to night. The other bars are mostly hook-ups and leather types – fun for a while but eventually I want something more than dirty sheets and a ride home. The few times a hook-up lasts till the next morning remind me how much more I like sleeping with someone than “sleeping with someone.”

On the way home I listened to the 9 voicemails I received today; mostly happy birthday messages from family and friends.

It’s 40 minutes later and I just realised who didn’t leave one. I’m not surprised but I’m a little disappointed.