Monday, October 17, 2005
Living with Monkey in Žižkov
Our new landlord thinks we are the weirdest couple he’s ever seen. Which brings to mind a problem: I never meet men because gay best friends are always mistaken for boyfriends. Okay, “never” is obviously an exaggeration, but here are two examples.
1. Alan’s 30th birthday party in London. The party was during the week and Jono had to work late. At one point during the evening I was talking to an interesting (and interested) man at the bar when Alan approached me to ask about Jono.
“Max, where’s Jono?”
The attractive man raised an eyebrow, because clearly I was being asked about a boyfriend or husband. I wanted to deny any knowledge of any Jono, but alas, I could not.
“He called 10 minutes ago that he had just ordered a cab and he should be here in another 10.”
My knowledge was much too precise for a casual acquaintance so interesting and attractive man was then positive that Jono was my boyfriend/husband/whatever and there went any chance of a date or a shag.
2. Saturday night. I was out with AG. We were sitting at the bar and there was a man at the other end of the bar whom I had never seen before. I thought he might be interesting and we had already made eye contact several times but had not yet spoken. My back was to the door. Suddenly AG’s face lit up so I knew Monkey had to have just walked in. Sure enough, he came up behind me, put his arms around me, touched my boob and kissed my ear (or some similar combination of actions). Stranger at end of bar assumed “boyfriend” and actual verbal contact was never made. Another lost opportunity.
So now Monkey and I are living together. It is temporary while his new flat is being reconstructed. Monkey says 2 weeks, the landlord says up to 2 months, Max says this is Prague and you never fucking know.