I am a fat vampire!

I must have a good reason, you might be saying, for yesterday (written earlier) allowing myself to be poked up the ass with a sharp stick. Paying to be poked up the ass with a sharp stick. Indeed I do. Indeed I do. Halloween night, I was at a party, early. Everything I do with Will has to be done early. It is from years of being first in line at estate sales I guess. On Wednesdays we are the earliest to rise. We are sitting in his truck in the parking lot where the containers are unloaded before the place is unlocked. We watch each of the other dealers arrive. There are two elderly men in a Volkswagen van, in the back is carried an elderly Eskimo woman. She never leaves the van. Many come with their dogs in their trucks or vans. They all like Will, and his pit bull Sadie. They wave companionably. We do not get an advantage being first because we draw numbers from a hat with all of these dealers and we must buy in turn from the container. Why we are early I never will know.
We are always the first to get in the dance club, when only one or two solitary loons are just touching the surface of the dance floor in their ungainly flight. And we were the first at the party Halloween night. It wasn't clearly explained to me before we arrived but the party was principally for the gay volleyball team, which Will has lately joined.There was supposed to be a boy there that Will was interested in. I asked Will if I would know which one it would be. "Do you know what fetal alcohol syndrome looks like?" he asked. I don't.
Thevolleyball team could be interesting, I say to myself, picturing the lean, long-limbed athletic collegiate boy, a little horse-faced, but capable of cracking walnuts against his biceps. We ring the doorbell The host answers. He is a young man, six-foot, chubby, and flamboyantly made up as a vampire. His soft shirtless torso is open to the elements as his cape and some shorts (over hose I believe) are the greater part of his costume. He keeps in the false fangs when guests arrive. He requires them to absorbe the ensemble. Then he takes the plastic teeth out and complains about their size. He speaks with the inflections of Paris Hilton and Nicole Richie. Petulant, unsatisfiable valley girl. Whenever he passes one of the many full length mirrors in his apartment he says: 'Oh my God! I don't look good. I'm a fat vampire. Oh my God! I'm fat! I shouldn't have been a vampire. I'm too fat. I just look like a fat vampire." He wanted to be reassured. I don't remember anyone contradicting him. The guests began arriving, the fetal alcohol syndrome boy first, fairly handsome, as a half-shark devoured swimmer. Then came a small effeminate Asian boy dressed as a acat. Then came another small effeminate Asian boy dressed as a cat. Then a bat which was indistinguishable from a cat. Then a sort of bat-cat winged demon. Then a cat. All in black, with furry berrette ears, or fangs, shirtless or in diaphanous blouses, all Asian, all young, muscleless, and effeminate.
There was a sort of gregarious, affable older couple there. One past fifty with attenuated arms and a barrel like chest, sunken cheeks, ruddy... dresssed as a Crusader, in chain mail and his lean muscular boyf., 30ish , painted red with horns, more the volleyball type I had anticipated, but yoked to the geezer. They had met on the Internet. One had moved across the country to be with the other. There was another couple, in wrestling singlets, unfortunately. The rest of the party was unattached... to a mate, an identity, or an ethos.
Bill and I were not in costume. "Um....I like your shirt. I mean it's cool.... I like it," one cat or bat said, "but it's not a costume."
We moved, in cars, to a party on Beacon Hill, hosted by 3 gay roommates.
It was densely packed with hundreds of gay men, all flamboyantly costumed, most eschewing drag. THere were some attractive guys. I talked to another uncostumed kid, the sullen half of what looked like an unsuccessful date. Will pursued several small Asian men.
We left for the Cuff. I waited in line for a drink from the sole bartender that recalls me fondly, Charles. In front of me, two ahead, was the most amazing behind, bottom, what can I call it? Ass. Butt? What does it justice? Glutes? Glutes. That seems grown-up. Glutes in low riding stretch pants. I couldn't see much of the rest of the guy, but I made Will come look at them. We stared, speechless. Eventually the guy turned around. He was wearing Lawrence of Arabia motorcycle goggles.
He was handsome.Muscular. I thought he must be talent flown in from L.A. A stripper maybe. He looked too sophisticated for backwater Seattle. Too groomed. And was so... proportionate.
Later I dragged Will to where I spotted the guy standing so we could gape some more.
"You're handsome."
Will didn't respond. What the hell. Oh. The guy was talking to me. We danced.
Arn was my age plus some, but not much. I kept thinking that it was about to be over. He'd thank me and that would be it. But its been 3 months now. He is a veterinarian. He chews with his mouth closed. He is unaffectedly masculine. He reads assiduously. He is politically liberal. What more could I ask? Negative? Yep. We were tested simultaneously. We can be condomless. He was particular about having everything tested for. Thus the stick. Thus the stick up the ass. Thus I am asked to balance my weight on my face, put my hands behind me and hold my cheeks apart and not flinch.
I am a born flincher.