One of franksolich’s pet peeves happened last night, Saturday night into Sunday morning.
There’d been a party here, fourteen other people, seven of one and seven of the other. I don’t drink, and being deaf, I’m not fond of partying, but this place way out here is a great place to party, and as other people do me favors, I don’t mind allowing them to party here.
But it lasted s-o-o-o-o long that I finally went to bed right after midnight, when there were still seven out on the back porch, three guys and four chicks. I knew the guys and two of the women, and figured they’d be the last ones to leave.
About 2:00 a.m., I had to get up and empty the bladder. Since the house and back porch were now dark, I figured everybody’s gone, and after a quick trip to the bathroom, I decided to step out on the back porch to see if any mess had been left, for me to clean up in the morning, and to have a cigarette.
There was no mess; these people are always very good about cleaning up after themselves.
So I stood out there in the darkness, smoking and looking towards the river (no campers this weekend). It was a warm night; overcast, but temperatures in the mid-60s and very humid, making it seem hotter than that.
Suddenly the light on the back porch flicked on.
Oh damn, I thought.
It’s stupid to try to run and hide, because what’s been seen can’t be unseen. One just silently goes, “Oh, fu---,†and nonchalantly continues on as if nothing’s out of the ordinary.
Fortunately I’m no Fat Che, with a big belly sticking out and sagging down as if an apron, or no LynneSin primitive, with more water inside of me than’s in Chesapeake Bay. My avatar’s me, so one can see I’m just average, not grotesque.
So while I may startle in my night-time non-attire, having no bloat or sagging, I don’t disgust (at least that’s what I’ve been assured). And no ancient person, respectable woman, or child has ever seen me this way, because those sorts of people are in bed at home, not running around in the middle of the night.
It was the two chicks I didn’t know, standing at the door from the kitchen to the back porch. I’d thought them coarser than the normal run of womanhood in this area, and felt relieved they probably weren’t seeing anything they hadn’t already seen hundreds of times before.
But still, seeing me as I was, they might think I had intentions I most certainly didn’t have.
They’d left, but then came back because one of them had left her purse here.
It takes nerves of steel to deal with a stranger, in this case two of them, when one‘s utterly exposed. Aplomb and nonchalance also helps. Too, eye-contact that’s so strong, so intense, that sometimes I can even get away without the stranger realizing I’ve got no clothes on.
I needn’t have worried; both of them were sordidly drunk, and after finding the missing purse, while they saw me standing there and thanked me, they left never having noticed at all.
