Girlnextdooritis

Last night I was the polygamist wife and sister of Ice Cream Man and Sleepless. Tonight, I ended the evening snuggled up with three men on my couch. Granted, they are all gay, but I wouldn’t have it any other way. Maybe.

It’s been a while since I’ve hung out with both Tree and FatGirl, so we planned a movie night. They arrived hungry, thus, we decided to walk to a ‘nearby’ restaurant. After a quick photo shoot on the porch and a lot of complaining by FatGirl “Walk? Really? Can we take a cab home? I’ll never make it,” we started our walk.

As we passed the park, where FatGirl once pushed me so high on the swing that my legs started flailing around and he saw things he wished he had not, Tree quipped, “Oh look, it’s snatchshot park.” “Let’s not repeat that today,” I replied, knowing the circumstances would be the same. We continued walking and FatGirl begged to go through the private parking lot from which Sleepless, Ice Cream Man and I were recently chased out. “You complained about walking and now you want to be chased by a crazy man through a private parking lot?” Tree asked him. “Sounds fun,” FatGirl replied with a giggle.

We opted against ‘fun,’ arrived at the restaurant, and began contemplating the menu while waiting for Tree’s friend to join us. Our server approached, poured our wine and shared the daily specials. Apparently, while he was doing this, FatGirl had the same expression on his face as he did when he caught his reflection in Tree’s sunglasses – pure admiration. “Is there a problem?” Tree asked FatGirl. “Just checking out the scenery,” FatGirl responded to Tree while batting his eyes at the server. “Great. We won’t be seeing him again for a while,” Tree commented as the server blushed and quickly walked away. “At least we have the wine,” I replied and toasted them both.

Tree’s friend finally met up with us and, after dinner, we retreated to my place to watch a movie. We all cozied up on the couch with the comfy blanket atop us. The movie started and Tree’s friend began asking him questions, “What color are your eyes?” “Brown,” said FatGirl, “Blue,” I replied. “Hazel,” Tree responded and added, “You’re going to have to clarify to whom you are asking the questions because we are all pretty self-absorbed and, naturally, each assume you are talking to us.”

About thirty minutes into the movie, FatGirl had gone home, the other two were snoring, my eyes were still blue (and open) and I confirmed my Taylor Swift diagnosis: girlnextdooritis – where the guy (in this case, gay) is friends with you and that’s it. I wouldn’t have it any other way. Maybe.