Punch Drunk Shinanigans.

Have fallen for a new beau. His name is Carlos and he's drop dead grrjus! Met him at the Plaza las Armas two nights ago while I sat there sucking on an horchata. Walked by and eyes met two aware connections of mutual alert souls that clickclickclick - his eyes are glittering smile of beat saint, you dig? So, after hilarious chit-chat under the neon glare of the crimson cross a top the Guadalupe Cathedral we strolled over to Bar Buen Tiempo and got scorching drunk. At closing we stood outside the bar in the warm night of phosphorescent glow he asked if I lived near and I said, "Very near."

Back at my pad a little mutual kissing, groping and standard sixty-nining. Damn! The guy is so beautiful - dark brown hairless torso, well toned, shaved head and goatee with full lips and great smile and those eyes, those hypnotic kick you in the heart eyes! Carlos stays the night and next morning we munch on juevos rancheros at the corner cafe before he returns home to his abuela.

Last night I get dressed to the nines and tens to do a little disco dancing with the local faggitos when I enter a farmacia to buy a bottle of water. To my gleeful surprise, Carlos is in the shop and I notice he is checking out baby bottles. We greet with enthusiasm and I ask what's up with the baby bottles? He confides that not only he has a one year old son but a wifey to boot! I question his motives about last night and his simple answer is he digs both genders. Okay, I guess I can live with that because ten minutes later we are both back at my flat doing that which are crimes against nature. Afterwards Carlos showers and sadly states he's gotta return home to the wife and kid. With baby bottle and pampers in hand he leaves saying with the sweetest of kisses that he will visit on Sunday.

Well hell - it was still early and I returned alone to Buen Tiempo and the place was packed. Met an old boyfriend from times past and secretly was thrilled that he has become an obese wreck. I'm not bitter, though.

Unfortunately, the bars close at 11:30 here on accounta city ordnance 666 of the No Borrochos en el Calle Code, but the discos are open till whenever. I had become quite chatty with one of the barmaids named Rosie the two weeks spending my evenings drinking at the bar - great gal and fag hag to the core - she giddily explains that there was this joint called Noa in the Old Mercado and it is always jumping.

Rosie and I strolled through the dark walkways of trash littered cobblestone of the Old Mercado to Noa and she wasn't lying - the place was sizzling. Packed so that the fags spilled out onto the broken sidewalk. Young twinks in their Ambercrombie and Fitch drag, cowboys, gangsters, snarling lesbians, drunken staggering street kids and horrendous Amazonian drag queens packed corner to corner of the spacious hall. The music bopped and thumped as patrons swirled and dipped to musica ranchero. Rosie introduced me to her circle of friends - all aging queens of class and stature - and we stood at our table downing caguama after caguama. I was pleased to be reacquainted with two old buddies from my previous stay - Lalo and Arturo - and after the obvious what-ever-happened-to-so-and-so routine I was the social butterfly ping ponging back and forth between the two groups sputtering comedy and trivial antidotes.

But, alas the place closed for the night - all wished all a good night and I began my trek home. Passing quite drunkenly through Plaza las Armas I was hit up for a cigarette by a hot guy that claimed his name was Miguel standing in the shadows with his hiphop attire draped over skinny bowed frame - we yapped a few minutes when he upped the ante and flat out said he'd screw the bajeesus outta me for twenty dollars. Yeah, why not? Wouldn't you?

Hopped in a taxi - safer from the predatory eyes of police patrols - and sped to my flat. Miguel wasted no time - being the pro that he is - and my bed and I wheezed and popped as Miguel lunged and thrusted on top of me. Spewing his goo, this late night gigolo cleaned up took the twenty shook hands and was out the door.

I returned to the bathroom and as I washed the sweat off of my face at the sink I gaze at the visage staring back, hoping these hickeys will be gone by Sunday...