Bad Apologies

...asks AppleCore, whom I occasionally give a play-by-play of especially sticky situations as they are unfolding. Thank god for T9!

Back up to this morning, when I awoke in the nude embrace of my Man of Significant Importance. He certainly had better be, because I was in Reston, or as I like to call it: the death of modern civilization. [You'll eventually be able to trace the downfall of our society not to war or global warming or a dirty bomb, but to when Reston Town Center opened, but that's another entry.]

At any rate, we're out there because MOSI is dog/house sitting for his father's cousin, a middle aged woman with a well-kept home, a penchant for golf, and W'04 bumper stickers on her Lexus. Just at the point that we're contemplating frolicking or more sleeping, the doorbell rings and then in walks the cousin, who has apparently taken an earlier red-eye back from California.

SHIT! It seems that having guests over was not discussed... kind of like the way being gay wasn't discussed. Finding a man in her guestbed with her young cousin is probably not what she would have appreciated. One of the first thing she said, in fact, was that she wasn't sure if he'd be at home or at church at that hour. What he was doing was a far cry from church. So MOSI springs up to throw on pants, and I hide naked in the closet. Realizing that naked man in the closet might be even more traumatizing, I silently get dressed as MOSI chats it up with the happy homeowner.

While I hung out in the closet, MOSI bought us time talking with her, then slowly beginning to pack up our things--and hiding that which would indicate that her guestroom was debauched in her absence.

Thankfully, through it all I had my cellphone (on silent) and AppleCore mildly amused be my predicament but also offering logistical support via text if I needed saving. MOSI even missed the chance to be a bit of a jerk and have his cousin walk the dog; so he left the house with me secretly hoping to hear the sound of a bathroom door close--and contemplating whether she might have firearms. At one point while he was packing she even came in the room, surprised to see all of his stuff.

When all hope seemed lost--or at least that I might have to hang out until the lady left for the theater several hours later--she took her leave from MOSI's company for a quick shower. Thank gawd. After an hour and a half of being crammed in the closet we slid downstairs and out to the car, where everything had already been stashed.

A very grateful MOSI even drove me home, rather than dump me at the Metro. All is forgiven.

As AppleCore put it: "...and with that one more gay man successfully came out of the closet."

// posted by bad apologies @ 4:06 PM