Let's Go Dancing

It was a short week. It just flew by until today, which seemed like three days in itself. I didn't have much to do, I should have just taken the afternoon off, but by the time I realised it was 4.30 and there did seem to be much point.

But now it's over, so what do I care.

"Let's go dancing," said Daniel. "You and me."

Friday night is my night out of choice, now. That way I have two days to recover and not just one. If I go out on Friday night, when I come-to it is Sunday morning. If I go out Saturday night, the next thing I seem to know is that it is Monday morning.

"Okay," I said. "Where?"

"Take me to a gay bar," said Daniel. "You wanna pick up?"

"No, not really." 

"It kind of spoils the whole thing."

"What are you going to do?"

"Isn't a gay bar the best place to pick up girls."

"I'm thinking that is an urban myth."

"I've always wanted to test it out."

"Okay then, I'll take you to a gay bar."

So, Daniel is pretty popular when he goes to a gay bar. I think it's because he goes so seldom, and he's view as fresh meat, and he's big, and blond and good looking, even if I say so myself about my own bro. 

So, all he got was hit on by gay boys, some very confident gay boys at that. (Read false confidence from taking something) There were no girls in sight, just guys.

Still, I love Daniel and he and I danced together like we were boyfriends, which fended off those wanting to take a crack, for the most part. We always have a good time when we are together.

I admitted to one guy when I was at the bar getting drinks, that no Daniel wasn't my boyfriend and, in fact, he was my brother.

"Good genes in your family," he said.

"Thanks," I said.

"That may, in fact, turn me on even more," he slurred.

I laughed. "Well, thanks again."

Waking up Sunday morning, it doesn't, really, matter how you feel, you've got 24 hours to pull it together.