As it was Thursday night, beautiful out, and as a reward for gym efforts, I ventured to the queer bar. This night, however, would be different.

My usual stint involves a drink and 10 minutes at each bar -- or whichever is finished first. This particular evening, while 2/3 through the Saphire martini (made in a short glass, no olives, as not to subtract from my 'guy next door', t-shirt and jeans image) I was approached by a loud, slightly weathered, too-old-to-be-at-a-bar-on-a-Thursday-night blonde haired woman with a shy man-friend. I had seen this technique before... it's frequently employed by shy gay guys with their hags... the she'll-break-the-ice-first-because-there's-no-threat-from-a-straight-girl maneuver.

I purposely wasn't checkin' out the guy, trying to maintain my disinterest in case of awkwardness... but when I finally did... and was formally introduced... there was a pleasant surprise. He was attractive... ruggedly so (mmm) ... and masculine.

Chatty (and Spacey) Kathi (most definitely spelled with an i) was wearin' me out... NON-STOP ranting and mindless chatter. For someone trying to set up a friend, she was doing a measly job. Next thing I know, CK and The Rugged are inviting me back to his place to hang out for awhile. Normally I would've bolted... but a little adventure sounded fun. Momentarily I considered the possibility I'd be the victim of some kidnapping or murder plot, then I realized I had no money, so the joke would be on them. We had hardly made it out the door when CK fired up the 'ole pie hole to sing the praises of The Rugged's condo, and that we'd be riding there in a shiney new corvette. Had it been The Rugged making these boasts, I'd have departed immediately. But he remained almost creepily quiet while we proceeded.

CK sat in my lap, as Corvettes aren't quite as spacious as a mini-van, or say church bus. Generally, Corvettes remind me of sleaze and age, but with the wind in my scalp, and a blonde in my lap, I couldn't help but chuckle at this unlikely scenario.

We arrived at a large high-rise in the heart of Turtle Creek (reads: $$$$$$). We proceeded to the near top floor, and entered. An immaculately decorated apartment, with pieces of art most certainly aquired personally from other parts of the world. Not a large place, but a comfortable two bedroom. The best part, and likely a good 50k of the condo's price tag, was the view. We wandered onto the spacious balcony, all three of us, CK maintaining her babble at the speed of an auctioneer, and took in the sights. I had recently heard George Michael was living in Dallas with his partner, specifically in that area, so I inquired. The Rugged casually acknowledged and then pointed to the penthouse of another nearby highrise. "That's his. The left side of that top black part." I was thrilled with this information, though unsure why. "I don't think he's here much... there are never any lights on, except lately I've seen a few here and there", he said.

The Catch
Later, back inside, CK pulled out a little blue baggie... with white powder in it. Amazingly, in all my years as a gay man, I've never actually seen someone do coke. The drug crowd isn't mine, nor do I want it to be, so I was feeling pretty gross and uncomfortable. Suddenly it became clear to me that CK's weirdness was much more than alcohol-induced.

While we swapped 'new-in-Dallas' stories, The Rugged revealed that this place and these things aren't his, but those of his friend. His friend is quite the millionaire, with dealings of real-estate in Fort Lauderdale and Dallas. Upon this revelation, it hit me that I'd actually met The Rugged once before! He and his wealthy buddy approached me at After Dark one night. Tiny world.

I drove Coked-up Kandi- er, Kathi home in her jeep while The Rugged followed (however this time in his personal vehicle... a big truck (mmm again)). The Rugged and I returned to the De-Lux Apartment in the sky-hi-hi and enjoyed another drink and uninterrupted conversation. While he was in the restroom, I slipped out to the balcony to snap a shot of Mr. Michael's penthouse.

I'm so paparazzi in training.

I called it a night shortly thereafter, and was instructed to call him this weekend. What's the rule on that? Should I call tonight? Tomorrow? At all?