It's subjective, I suppose
One last memory from Pride this year. Our circut boy/go-go dancing/porn-star dating neighbor vowed to us that this year he was going to do the entire Pride weekend sober. "I'm just drinking and doing a little coke - I'm staying sober for a change."

And he was completely serious.

Sad but true
Last week, in a very sweet effort to do something special for my upcoming birthday in mid-July, my honey made reservations for 4 nights (the minimum stay duration they'd accept) in Provincetown at an Inn that we've stayed in often. For an outrageous sum of money, we were going to be able to get one of their worst rooms with two twin beds. I was horrified, and asked that we cancel the reservations and make other birthday plans. Not that I didn't love my wonderful boyfriend for trying to take me to one of my favorite places on the Earth, but I just couldn't justify spending that much money.

The fact is, Provincetown has become outrageously overpriced during the Summer months. Yet, people still flock there. The demographics are a little different than they used, though. Two years ago I remarked (in between vodka and tonics) that there was no one under thirty at the Boatslip T-Dance. "Why doesn't the younger gay crowd come to Provincetown anymore?" I asked Curt, to which he responded immediately and quite astutely, "Because they can't afford it". I was shocked that I was so dumb not to realize it myself, but he was right.

Sad, because when I first moved to Boston in my early twenties, I was able to afford to go to Provincetown several times a Summer. Summer and Provincetown were, in fact, synonymous for any Boston queer boy. It was where you went when you didn't know what else to do on a weekend. I spent every single birthday there - often for an entire week, then I'd go back again two weeks later. It's really frickin wacky that now, in my highest earning years so far in my life, I can't afford Provincetown in the Summer anymore. Or, maybe I can, and I'm just becoming more stingy with my money. Either way, it's just plain wacky.

So, wanting at least one "Summer" experience there this year, I'm looking at the weekend of June 22nd as a possibility. I'll celebrate my birthday a little early - just before the high-season rates kick in. Just in case I feel the need to get there when the boys are shirtless and the weather is still steamy, there is always the possibility of day trips via the high-speed ferry's from Boston later in the season. Spend the day, have some lunch, shop a little, do T-Dance, then After T-Dance, then head back on the ferry that night and sleep in the comfort of my own bed.

I'm so glad though, that there are other people who actually did plan ahead, have a great place to stay, and will be spending their July 4th week sunning and (I hope) sinning at the end of the cape. And the best part is - I'm going to get to see him!

Tired, slightly sunburned, and nauseous.
And so ends another Boston Gay Pride, so I must have really had a good time.

Saturday started at our place, with bagels and mimosas with some friends, neighbors, and friends of neighbors. We had been invited to two pre-parade party's, but not being able to decide which one to go to, we opted to just have our own. We went through 4 bottles of champagne before 11:30am, so it was quite an auspicious start to the day. Making our way to the parade route just as the Dykes on Bikes (always the group to lead off the action) were going by, we eventually settled into a spot with a good view on Tremont street on the less-densely populated side. Our vantage point was great for seeing the parade, but we didn't get nearly the goodies or candy that we have in previously years (we did all get some sporty plastic rings, though). I found the parade long and boring and lacking much inspiration. Even the floats were dull (you can't just put a speaker system and some bathing suit clad people on a flatbed truck and call it a float, kids. Well, okay, maybe you can).

Despite my bitching, I did have fun at the parade. We followed the Machine (dance club) float - which ended the parade - to Bay Village, where we stopped for their annual Street Fair. Hotdogs, kielbasa, Indian food and many vendors selling all kinds of crap. After that we were in need of a few libations, so off to Flashes we went. Not usually gay (but not totally straight, either) Flashes sits right in the middle of the Gay Pride action, and this year they not only wisely had a float in the parade but also pride rainbow inspired martini specials. One or two there and off we went to the Block Party which was, in all my years of doing Boston Pride's, the most densely crowded I'd ever seen it (in fact, the one word that best describes everything about this year's Pride celebration is "crowded"). The fun of the block party though, is walking around in the crowd seeing people you know and kissing men that you don't know for no other reason than because you're drunk and they're drunk and it's Pride.

Speaking of kissing strangers, the Boyfriend had a 10 minute make-out/groping session with a tall, beautiful Dominican guy that we'd seen earlier in the week at the Pridelights tree lighting ceremony (think big conifer tree in the middle of Boston's South End covered in pink lights for Pride). He'd apparently noticed us too (well, at least Curt). Although I wasn't bothered in the least by the show they were putting on (I was actually getting turned on - kinky boy that I am), it was uncomfortable for our friends around us. I find that kind of ironic, I'm fine but the people we're with are uncomfortable. The only thing I didn't like is that I wasn't being acknowledged at all. Now, I don't mind someone kissing and groping my boyfriend, but you've got to at least say hello to me at some point, you know? Anyway, when it was all over Curt apologized to everyone but confessed he just couldn't stop himself (can't blame him there). As for my feelings of being snubbed, it was all smoothed over on Sunday (more on that below).

After getting drunk and tipsy at the Parade, we headed to the Eagle. Now, I must confess, I can't remember much of the Eagle. I don't think we were there for long. The next thing I knew, we were back at our place with friends Eve and Merritt, and I'm saying to Eve, "Honey, you're drunk off your ass, do you want a cab?" and Curt's saying to Merritt, "Merritt, you're drunk off your ass, do you want to order a pizza?" Eve safely in a cab, and Curt and Merritt waiting on the pizza and drinking beers, I hear the stum, strum, strum of our upstairs straight neighbor playing guitar. With absolutely no inhibition, up the stairs I go with a bag of straight porn I'd been saving for him. Somehow (I don't really recollect how this happened) we ended up sitting on his couch watching one of the tapes together. Nothing - repeat - NOTHING happened other than sitting on his couch watching porn and him commenting on what he gets turned on by. He was pretty damn comfortable with the scenario, though, so this may eventually lead to something more interesting (oh yes I am a twisted little monkey). Knowing Curt and Merritt were waiting for me downstairs however, I excused myself after about a half hour and left him to his new bag of porn. I would have probably stayed the whole night sitting there watching porn with him if I'd had the opportunity. He was certainly not acting uncomfortable and I was happy as a pig in shit. Ah well.

The pizza having come and pretty much been entirely consummed by the time I got back downstairs, Merritt left and Curt and I fell into bed and drifted off/passed out - visions of straight neighbors jacking off in my head.

Yesterday morning I woke up at 7am dying of thirst. I got up, gulped two glasses of water, demanded Curt scratch my back, then went back to bed until 11am. Having not eaten solid food since the Bay Village Street Fair on Saturday, I was starving when I finally came around, and off we went to The Cheesecake Factory for their breakfast burrito and iced tea (they have the best iced tea in the whole world). Stopped at the Sunglass Hut for a new pair of Oakley sunglasses, and later made our way to Stuart street for the other Pride street fair. Not as crowded as the one the day before, this one had cute boys with very little clothing on and a fairly good DJ. I even got Curt to dance a little, which doesn't happen often. Ran into many more people we knew and was very happy when the tall, beautiful Dominican guy sees us and struts (yes, struts) over and plants a big wet one on me first. Okay, the events of the block party the day before are all forgiven. He's horny and it's clear he'd go home with us, but he's with friends and we're meeting Rob and Wendy for dinner - so any possibility of a hook-up is out of the question. Oh well, the seeds have been planted for some other day (or night).

At 6pm, after many awful Bud Light's and hours of socializing and oogling half-nekkid boys, off to Baja we go to meet Rob and Wendy for margarita's and then dinner at Maggiano's.

Stuffed and exhausted, we finally headed home at 9pm. Walking through the South End, the streets, bars and restaraunts were still busy with boys still celebrating. I point out to Curt that the action will continue at Avalon that night, but we're both too pooped to party any more. Pride 2002 is officially over - thank God!