Saturday, September 02, 2006

Notes from the Cafe

The other day, I had a customer who'd clearly had so many face lifts, that she could barely smile. She also had huge, inflated lips. Her skin was incredibly smooth, but the bad surgery and the rest of her body gave her away. She was fighting aging with everything she had. It was depressing.

Today a middle-aged woman ordered an iced tea and had the biggest, firmest, fakest boobs I think I've ever seen. But she tipped me a dollar just for pouring an iced tea.

The trainers here are hot.

Hot trainers are assholes.

You have to walk past the big, open shower space in the bathroom to get to the urinals or stalls, and there are always flabby old men in there showering with their big balls and saggy butts. But hey, I guess we all get old.

The manager's boyfriend seems to think that just because he's gay, and I'm gay, that it's okay to make horribly inappropriate sexual remarks to me that I don't appreciate. This is something I've discovered about middle-aged gay men. I don't know what it is, but so many of them that I've met seem totally okay making the most digusting sexual inferences to me, directly, about being fisted, or covered in cum, or some other such undesirable things. It's very weird.

The TV in the cafe is on, with the UT game BLARING right now, and I'm so irritated.

I'm very tired and very bored.

I have a date next week. That I'm actually excited about. It feels good to actually want to be going on a date. Even if nothing comes of it, to be feeling like I want to be putting myself out there again, after almost a year and half, is a nice feeling.

My loneliness is palpable.

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