This weekend would have been Pride Weekend here. But it was shifted into July this year. Probably due to pandemic and timing, etc. But to most gays in the city, this still felt like Pride weekend- even though it wasn’t.
I did the Eagle on Friday after work. It was my first weekend in town for awhile so I wanted to make the most of it. Friday was busy at the bar and I saw tons of folks, which was nice. The not nice part was when I was kind of invited to join some people for dinner, and then they left without me.
I thought I was over letting things like that affect me, but it did. It just sort of sucks being excluded, you know? But hey. In the grand scheme of things, no big whoop.
Saturday was truck maintenance, clothes shopping, the gym, and book club. Book club was different as we went to a restaurant instead of meeting at a member’s house. It was a good time (even if I didn’t finish the book).
Since Saturday was a gloomy and rainy day, I didn’t get in a bike ride. So I went on Sunday instead. I took the Nago out for a 34 mile ride around the city, averaging 18 mph. Not bad for an old geezer. Then I decided to hit the Eagle again.
The Eagle was ok on Sunday. It wasn’t very busy early on, which left me feeling disappointed. But it picked up, and once again I saw some faces I hadn’t seen in over a year.
But, as Pride weekends and Sunday’s are wont to do, I started feeling a bit maudlin. So many people out with groups of friends or their boyfriends/husbands while I was out with “by myself”. Looking around I always get a bit jealous. And depressed.
I rode my bike home and on the way I blew my back tire so I had to walk the last bit. Seemed a bit too “on the nose” given how I was feeling at the time.
So naturally today I’m tired and in a bit of a funk.