981 Boston

Monday, November 20, 2006

Well, not really Boston, thank goodness, the Boston Men5a R3gional Gath3ring last weekend was in Braintr3e, MA. I didn't have to go through Boston at all. (Note how I've cleverly disguised the words above - I'd prefer that others who were there didn't Google them and find this journal. It happened with a few other events I've commented on lately, local people have found me, and I'm going to have to either start censoring myself, or disguise the topics, and I don't want to censor me.)

As of Thursday evening, I still wasn't sure I wanted to go. I've been unhappy lately, feeling old and haggy and saggy and fat, and wanting to just go back into hibernation. The only reason I hit the road Friday morning was that I hadn't canceled the hotel reservation in time to avoid a charge, so I may as well go.

It was the best thing I could have done. The weekend was good for me.

I had heard that the Boston gath3ring was a good one, and it was. Not for the speakers and programs, the national gath3rings do that better, and not for the food, the northern New Jersey regional gath3ring did that better, but for the PEOPLE, and the fun.

Since I came out of mourning last summer, I have been to two regionals (usually 100-200 people) and two nationals (900-2000 people). I was joined at the hip with Roman at the regionals, so I didn't socialize much. At the nationals, New Orleans last year and Disney/Orlando this year, the hospitality rooms were huge, and they had a very strange atmosphere. There'd be people sitting at tables talking, and if you joined a table, they'd stare through you. It was very hard to make eye contact with anyone, let alone "break into" a group. Someone commented at the New Orleans gathering that it was as if the vastness of the room shell-shocked people, made them close ranks with familiar faces to keep out the cold. (Ok, it was I who said that, but others agreed with me.)

I knew this gathering would be different the minute I walked into the hospitality room. The room was about the size of my living room, dining room, and kitchen combined, divided into two levels. The upper level had maybe four large round tables that could seat 10, and four tables on the lower level, with a small dance floor. Up a few steps to the side was a kitchen/bar.

People were sitting at the tables spread with M&Ms, nuts, cookies, and chips, just like always, everywhere, except that most of them looked up and smiled at people walking in. I hadn't made it halfway across the floor when at least five people introduced themselves and asked where I was from.

I talked to a lot of people. I felt included, appreciated, accepted. They fed us all the meals except Saturday dinner - for that you could buy a ticket for a group dinner at a local Chinese buffet, or go somewhere on your own. I bought a ticket, and (for once) it was easy to join a group car pooling to the restaurant without feeling like I was intruding at all.

I was very happy.

I didn't feel saggy, baggy, fat, or old. In fact, I got hit on by three different guys, even without dots**, and I practiced flirting myself with another - a guy I wanted to drag away the moment I saw him (yeah, lust at first sight). I had recently cut my hair shorter around my face, and somehow that weekend it finally hit its stride, the natural curl took over, and it looked fantastic.

Queen Mum, you'll be happy to know that the man who pursued me most persistently was --- ta ra! --- in his early 40s. Very early. 42, I think. He and I had conversed one evening in the whirlpool at the Orlando gath3ring. He has actually seen my legs and is still interested? (Hmmm. He had also seen me sit on a whirlpool jet and go into a trance.)

By damn, I can still attract healthy nice-looking intelligent men. Given the way things had been going recently, I had been thinking those days were over.

Details in the next entry.

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**Dots

At gath3rings you wear a badge, usually a plastic or canvas envelope on a cord, hanging down your front, handy for holding things like room keys, schedules, and meal tickets, with your name on the front. Then you can decorate it with sticky dots.

Mensans are huggers. They had to come up with the dot scheme to prevent screaming and slapping in elevators.
Geen dot - Hug Me.
Yellow dot - Ask Before Hugging.
Red dot - Respect My Personal Space. No Hugging.
Blue dot - Single.
Two blue dots - Single and Looking.
Three blue dots - Single and Willing.
Four or more blue dots - Desperate.

There were orange dots on the table, too, just because they came in the package with the others. EVERYBODY asked what the orange dots meant. (If I had been behind the registration table, I wouldn't have put them out.) There were two French Canadian men there, and we tried to tell them orange meant into gay S&M, but then we noticed some people had happily stuck them all over their badges, so....

I don't use the dots. Well, I did when I went to the NJ gath3ring, I stuck a blue one on, but that was because I was there with Roman, and I was angry with his running hot and cold, and wanted to make a point.

So people (men) would gallumph up to me, arms outspread, pause, study my badge, and say, in confusion, "You don't have any dots. What does that mean?" I'd say "Oh, I'm such a tease", and smile sweetly, and ask where they're from, and usually the gallumpher would forget that he didn't get a hug.

Actually, it means I prefer to initiate any hugs, and yellow doesn't work because I don't like to say no to some and yes to others. This way I never have to actually say no, and nobody's feeling are hurt. Being very small, I seem to be a target for bears with enormous soft bellies. They like to engulf me. Smother me.

Self defense, folks.