Supernatural Insanity

So, a couple weekends back, I had the honor of escort my friend, Frankie, out on his prebirthday-eve (two nights prior to his birthday). Anyway, we planned on having a couple drinks to kick of the celebration and then continue on the next day, since he had to work on his birthday.

Rocket Bar was our destination and I have to say, I didn't really know what to think of it. And I think I'm becoming even more bourgeois, because I was expecting valet somewhere on the premises since available parking was lacking. Plus, as we approached the building, we couldn't really figure out where the door was, as exterior lighting obviously was not a priority when they renovated this former oyster bar.

We eventually found the door. We walked in and were greeted by this somewhat attractive white, thin, tattooed (...and straight) doorman. This was one of the best parts of the evening because he carded both of us. It's the little things, you know?

Okay, both Frankie and I are very judgmental and can pick apart anyone and anything in a heart beat. That being said, our stroll through the first level of this bar was not pleasant. The lounge areas were crying out for furniture and whoever painted the interior of this place should be shot because quality clearly was not an issue.

Second of all, we knew there was a second level, but we had to ask around for directions to find the freakin' stairs. Finally heading up, Frankie and I grinned at one other after noticing we were both desperately avoiding contact with the hand rails.

At the second level, we noticed a relatively small "bar" to our left, an open lounge space to the right and a doorway to the patio straight ahead. So, we headed out because the inside was too much of a visual disappointment. On the patio we found some friends of Frankie's. We conversated for a bit, then we needed to fuel up on "alkyhall" (alcohol). So, we had to head back down to the main bar where we found the shirtless, hard bodied (mostly) bartenders dancing on the bar, like at Coyote Ugly.

I had to look away because although their faces weren't that great, their pants were falling low and their bodies were nice-looking. I have to be a good boy at all times, okay? Okay. We got to the bar and put in our drink orders as the MC of the night announced "All drinks are free for 10 minutes!" What a great bar this was turning out to be, right?!

Well, after we picked up our drinks, one of Frankie's exes walked up and they casually chatted for a bit. I just flat out do not like ANYONE Frankie has dated (over the passed 5 years) Well, there's one I don't hate. Jeff is cool. Anyway, while Frankie was talking with this idiot, I looked over to my right to find this tall, older, clearly horny white man wearing a well-fitting tee shirt that stated: "This is my brain" (with an arrow pointing upward); "This is my brain on beer"(with an arrow pointing downward - towards his cock).

Needless to say, I was offended simply by him standing near me wearing some shit like that. I am quality goods and will NOT engage in random acts of casual sexual activity! At this point, I realized something was different. Like drunk and horny man was gone and another "presence" had assumed his likeness. Suddenly, taking me home to fuck was no longer the topic of conversation.

He asked if I knew who he was, and looking into his eyes, I did. He was a spiritual messenger. FYI: I mentioned this to my friend, Ambs and she loved the fact "God spoke to me at a gay bar." I was in awe. I've always believed in divine intervention and things always happening for a reason, but I never... ever thought I would receive such a clear message from up above.

So, the messenger told me he could see that Frankie and I were close and that our relationship was good for the both of us. That our being in each other's life is such an awesome thing. I, of course, agreed simply because it's true. My relationship with Francisco (Frankie) is the healthiest one I've ever had. We're always honest with one another. We help each other out whenever necessary. We talk, text and voicemail almost everyday. All in all, we're good to each other.

Frankie's ex finally left and he attempted to join our divine conversation. Let's just say that sudden strange and fascinating events confuse my friend a little. So what seemed like a miraculous occurrence to me, was seen as a bullshit fest through Frankie's eyes. He tried to introduce himself to the messenger, but was shot down repeatedly. From my point of view, it seemed like Frankie was trying to rescue me from this drunk, horny(referencing the t-shirt) guy.

I knew what was going on, but Frankie did not. This clearly frustrated the messenger, so he left us with the obvious: "You two take care of one another. You're good for each other." It's like, if you didn't see it before, you should know it now. I am a little confused, though. I think we both know that we're good for each other. So, why did "he" have to say it? To make it clear that at some point, we'll... I don't know.

Frankie and I are damn good friends, and we'll probably be around for each other for a long while. It does feel strange when we go out together and people ask "Are y'all a couple?" Not so much because they asked the question, but more so because we're not a couple. Sure, we're a couple, like two people... one - two people. But still, others disagree; like my friend Dorian in Wollongong, Australia. In his last email, he wrote:

So supernatural beings plotting your love life...cool. So you and Frankie wink wink,nudge nudge. See, even possessed drunk people can see something's gonna happen there.

Ya know, when people start putting ideas in your head, the common sense you try to rely on suddenly hits the shitter and you're left helpless. I'm still a firm believer in "If it happen, it happens. If it doesn't, it doesn't" Either way, I'm not losing anything. We're gonna be around to support each other, no matter what.

Oh well!