The hopeful glimmer, that I don't want.

Over a week ago, I found myself at the mercy of our single local gay bar yet again. Not a full blown gay bar, but one where the same sex love makers happen to conglomerate.
** side note, best bar memory ever consists of a robust young woman on the dance floor surrounded by a group of men dancing. She then decided to fall upon all fours, crawl around the men, in and out of their legs like a misguided common barnyard animal... oh, how the laughter ensued.**

Anyway, while at such a place, I was enjoying conversation at a table when a fellow joined us. We started to talk more and more, finding multitudes in common the better we got to know each other. I had no indication of what was to come, as I was just excited to find a new friend, but yet nervous, as bar friends don't really pan out in my experience. At the end of the night, I got the linger hug. Now I know hugs, firmly believing one should get many a day, I know when one has lustful connotations to it. Going home giddy at the possibility that someone likes me, I started to ponder the idea for something more in my head with this guy.

We met up a few nights later, back the bar. Talk was slow at first, trying to find common ground again, but then we got the snowball a rollin. After a while, the time had come to (with enough liquid courage) dance. So, I pulled him to the floor, and before I know it, we are bumping into each other, hands are wandering, mouths getting close... and then... the kiss. I felt nothing. There was no spark. No desire. Nothing. Oh God do I look disinterested while kissing him? Do others notice that I'm not feeling anything? Ok. Try again. Fuck me, still nothing. I'm not used to this. Even if drunk I can at least pull from the horny strength to keep things going.

While I have seen him since, still no spark, but amazing to have as a friend. One month down, eleven to go. Still, back to hoping.