The Tequila Fairy did visit

Beloved and I went pubbing (y’know, you really can’t use that instead of clubbing. But I r using it because I like it) last night because my now-out friend wants to introduce us to his new boyfriend (who we already know, but since he’s now Out it’s him actually going out with friends as a couple as opposed to going out with friends and that means a whole lot to him). And because we’re turning into a hermit couple who only seem to spend time with each other and never get out of the house and eventually we will acquire a huge horde of cats.

That’s probably my fault more than anything. I do tend to get into my comfortable ruts – and I have to be physically dragged out the door to make me go anywhere. Besides, I can relax better at home. Badness does not come here unless I allow it – well, except that which Beloved creates. I enjoy myself when i do go out – but I need to be dragged kicking and screaming and spend the first 30 minutes grumbling. Because I’m a happy joyful soul and the life of the party, y’know.

So we grumbled our way to pub no.1, my favourite pub because it has the right combination of being quiet enough that you can think and talk but not so quiet and private that you don’t feel you’re in your own little world. It’s a pub where you can have a private conversation AND if you see a friend/acquaintance drop in on them for a few minutes without feeling like you’re encroaching. It’s a good place.

Well, normally it is. Tonight, however, there was a Hen Night in. A heterosexual Hen Night – looking every which way and completely oblivious to the frosty stares all around.

I played nice… until one of the ladies staggered up to a neighbouring table, sat down in a gay man’s lap (much to his surprise) and yelled “I bet I could turn you!”  At which point we left to find a fresh venue. There are limits. I hate it when the tourists ruin our spaces.

But we moved on to where the booze was more expensive and the atmosphere a little noisier. But there were many many drinks. mixy type drinks. Sticky, sweet mixy typer drinks and drinks that are served in teeeeny teeeny glasses, many of them on a tray in rows of pretty pretty colours. Pretty little shot drinks, I gave them a good home.

Friend is 1,000 times a happier person out of the closet. He could never do this before, he wouldn’t even go to a gay bar as part of a couple. He’d only ever go with gay friends to give him a cover – I remember the times he’s desperately pushed us to go out so he can follow us and have a cover for him to enter gay spaces. He always tried to play tourist in places that would be his safe spaces – and it’s so good to see him relaxed and a part of them at last. It’s wonderful to see him BE gay without constantly trying to hide and deflect – which he did even with ex-boyfriends. They’re a cute couple as well Perhaps a little more couply than most but for the first time in his life he’s letting himself BE a couple

It’s nice to see him free in his own skin, comfortable where he is without always looking over his shoulder, I hope he can keep that. And play cutesey couple with his new cute boyfriend

Sparky and the sticky drinks approve. Or they did. But they’re gone now

Alas poor sticky drinks. We mourn your passing. But they’ve gone to a better place.

But I think they may be lonely

I shall have to arrange company for them.

Sparky may be slightly ill this morning. Must have been something I ate. Beloved is noisy today. I’m afraid I may axe murder him. Quietly.

A point on American DADT

Did you realise that soldiers from countries that allow gay service-members (which is a very large number) are reluctant or outright refusing  to serve alongside the US because they fear your bigotry?

Do you see what you’re doing? Your army, your soldiers, are getting an international reputation as unreasoning bigots that is so severe that armies that have serving gay members (and have had for years to no detrimental effect!) have had units refuse to deploy alongside yours.

They do it because they feel they have to protect themselves against the discrimination and bigotry of their allies.

You worry about how this will harm the troops. But here you have missions becoming difficult because they cannot work with their allies. Here you have your troops smeared as bigots and irrational haters. Your troops are viewed with anger and fear by your allies because you have forced them to live in a culture of bigotry.

Is this what you think of your troops? Do you think they are so much more bigoted and hateful than their counterparts in Canada, the UK, New Zealand, the Netherlands and gods alone how many other countries (and, guess what? The countries that ban gay soldiers are not exactly the ones you want to be associated with when it comes to human rights and tolerance) that they simply cannot accept gays? Do you have that little respect for your own soldiers? Do you really think they are so much worse than just about every western military?

Do you think their bigotry is that much worse than it is important to pander to their hatred? Do you think your soldiers are so incurably bigoted that it is worth making working with allies increasingly more difficult?

It seems to me that they don’t respect their troops much at all.

Our bathroom is haunted, apparently

So, we’re sat here doing our own thing, my catching up on the ever teetering piles of work and Beloved trying to fix the loft ladders (again) when… the bath tap started running.

Curious we wander on through and see, yes, the bath tap was running full out without anyone being in the room…

Beloved: oookay, let’s go out tonight *heads for stairs*

Sparky: We went out last night, I thought we were having a night in?

Beloved: With the poltergeist? I vote no. I’ve seen this film

Sparky: What? The ghostly bather? Beware the haunted soap? The spooky bathfoam is coming to get you!

Beloved: I know how this ends, there will be bleeding walls and us all dead by morning!

Sparky: There better NOT be bleeding walls, we’ve just decorated the dining room! You hear me ghostie? You want to make walls bleed you can go out to the garage and do it.

Beloved: Haunted bathroom! Hello!

Sparky: Yes, gods preserve us from overly hygenic ghosts. Maybe it’s just a hint, I mean you have been in the garden, have you even showered today?

Beloved: It’ll eat YOU first then, since you’re the clean one

Sparky: At least that would prove we’re being haunted by a ghost of impeccable taste

Beloved:  You’re dooming us both! I’m going to prepare a survival kit. Do we have any holy water?

Sparky: Isn’t that for vampires?

Beloved: OK, do we have a catholic priest lurking about the house?

Sparky: Dear gods, I hope not.

Beloved: Fine, what IS good for ghosts?

Sparky: Salt, exorcisms. And sexy Winchester brothers.

Beloved: Do we have any of them?

Sparky: If we do you haven’t been sharing.

Beloved: Damn. I claim Ackles!

Sparky: Oh hell no

Now, personally, I’m vaguely more concerned about the plumbing than ghost hunting. I am doomed to be the practical one. I also predict that if he keeps this up it will go from being silly and cute to infectious and spooky when the sun actually goes down. Then it will probably be another Embarrassing Incident.