River Love

Guerneville reminded me a lot of Summer Camp. You meet nice guys you never see again. You lay in the sun while being an ass with your friends. Of course, I never drank 12 hours a day while at Summer Camp. And I didn't make any crappy wallets in Guerneville.

The River

This weekend I'm popping my Guerneville cherry with a bunch of the boys. Guerneville is San Francisco's answer to Fire Island. This will be my first time out of the city since I moved back in September.

It's usually warmer up there, so my inner attention whore bought a hot little swim suit.

Only in SoMa

I met a couple from England this week at the Eagle Beer Bust. They were interesting and a ton of fun. And by "interesting", I mean one had a tattoo of a Tom of Finland fisting and watersports scene on his back. And by "a ton of fun", I mean, we hung out and talked at the bar, not I took them home. Although with tattoos like that, I'm sure they are anything but dull.

For the record, I'm vanilla as all get out. I firmly believe in monogamy and the missionary position.

City Clinic

It's been far too long since I've gone in for an HIV test, so I stopped by City Clinic for the full package of tests. The irony is, the place is FULL of hot guys. Hot guys who most likely have a milky discharge, but I digress.

After they draw blood and swab your nether regions, it takes about two weeks for the results. With the exception of the HIV results, you can get your results online. You have to go back in two weeks to get the HIV result.

I showed up for my results appointment. I know I'm not super at risk (other than the gay sex thing in general), but still, it makes me nervous. So I'm in a very good mood, negative result in hand, as I bop out the door of the clinic. That's when I realized my fly was down.

The whole time.

Classy.

I guess that explains why the guy giving me results was looking at me funny.