it happened again. i was having brunch alone, minding my own business. all the gays are in fire island every other weekend now and this had promised to be a quiet weekend with them gone. i sit down, order a pulled pork sandwich special. the guy next to me was all, "oh, i wanted to order that but i should be good so i got the nicoise salad instead but i'm going to live vicariously through you." the sandwich was awesome. we keep chatting. he's a gay who works at macy's, his friend met up with us and we continued to drink. his boyfriend joined us, more drinking ensued. before i knew it i'd been recruited to go shopping with them and then also invited to dinner with one of their girlfriends. i made a phone call and we were put in the garden at locanda verde (i can't stay away, i know) and had a ridiculously debaucherous dinner. many bottles of wine, many apps and pastas and every single dessert on the menu. and more wine. we were sat outside so it was nice and quiet and perfect for story-telling and drunken bonding. our server was hilarious and didn't hate us, even though we were loud and silly. i didn't feel drunk until i was in the cab home and then had to start doing that split-second planning about how to vomit while in the cab. at what point would i ask him to pull over. would i open the door or throw up out the window? just utterly nauseous.
anyhow: new friends! yay.
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