Spencer and I had a date last night. I think that it went pretty well.
Rocky start. We were supposed to meet at 6:30, but then he had to postpone till 6:45, and then I couldn’t get out of work till late and said that I’d be there by 7 pm. Traffic was terrible, so I ran 5 blocks cross-town and over twenty blocks and met him at ten after. I just google mapped it; it was a mile and a half. I did that in rush-hour traffic in 20 min in makeup and nice dress and flip-flops. He was kinda sore about my being late. I understand he was concerned about being stood up–being stood up really sucks–but I said I’d be late and COME ON, the Studio is not exactly the IRS office. If Frau Farbissina is ten minutes late paying me, I have to wait till she reimburses my fee. Same with my students. What am I going to do? Report it to OSHA?
I have the vague suspicion that he doesn’t think that I respect him enough. I could be wrong about this, and I hope that I am.
Everything else was awesome!
He took me to a Japanese restaurant which was the equivalent, I guess, of a Japanese casual bar and we ate Japanese pub food! It was full of Asian people (mostly men) and a lovely professional barmaid with bangs.
|“Abandon All Compassion, Ye Who Enter Here.” Delicious Animals on Skewers|
Behold, the menu! There had to have been at least 30 different animals available for eating within its pages. The animals are grilled or fried or broiled or otherwise prepared. I have to hand it to the Japanese: they don’t fuck around with the animal eating. They will eat ANYTHING. Ignore that Shinto propaganda–they have no respect for animals.
I’m not bashing the Japanese . We torture animals too.
Delicious animals. I guess that in Japan, you can get exotic animals on sticks. yum yum yum
I intend to write more about Spenser tomorrow, and continue this narrative.
I asked him to stay over at my place next week.
I haven’t had a man overnight in my bed in a long time.