I love you most on sundays

On the trolley home tonight I saw two male lovers embracing and when the taller one placed his hand over the back of the neck of the other in a protective and deeply loving way, I thought of you and of our last Sunday, and that's when I realized that I love you most on Sundays.

Sunday afternoon we sat outside a bar at the crowded picnic tables with a pitcher of beer in the company of whom I like to refer to as our New Friends, and I hated it. When we got there I so badly wanted to sit with the friend we ran into up at the bar but there was no room at their table for us, or at the New Friends table for them. You thought for sure it was our good friend Niles who text messaged you to meet him there in the first place and then we couldn't understand why he didn't show up and why he wasn't answering his phone all day. Then it turned out that the guy we ran into at the bar was the one who text-messaged you and we didn't even hang out with him! I digress.


I just wanted to flee and run home with you to Birdie. So we left, and I took your hand and ran through the people, skipping in my anticipation and excitement that you consented so quickly. You knew it was deeply boring too perhaps? On our slow walk home we both suddenly and simultaneously had to hit the restroom due to the pitcher of Stella we just drank, so you suggested using the one at the bar across the sreet form where we happened to be standing at the time. "Yippee! They have a foosball table!" said me and I grabbed your hand and darted us directly into and across the middle of the street. It took me a minute to warm up on the table but I kicked your ass again and again.

Then we left and wandered off to a clothing store where the beautiful gay men offered us champagne. We looked at each other and giggled and then turned to them and said "why not!" They brought us each a glass and then we went into a dressing room together so I could try on a $103 t-shirt. It didn't have a price on it so when I found out the ridiculous cost I placed it back on the rack immediately and you sung tipsily "teehee, I'll buy that for you Baby, I'm a bit tipsy so I'd take advantage of me if I were you".


Then we strolled in and out of whatever stores we passed: a hardware store, a beauty store, a leather fetish store (you told me to go in and ask if they sold banjo straps and when I did the man made me ask him three times before he yelped "Oh my goodness Dear, we certainly do NOT!" You just stood outside watching with a shit-eating grin on your face and I ran out and punched your arm and shouted "Why did you tell me to ask him Baby! They sell sex stuff in there, not music accessories!"). I think you did it to get back at me for wanting to buy a black leather fetishy looking strap for Birdie (that you happened to hate) just the day before. I know you, that was your passive way of telling me what the strap looked like to you without in fact having to say a word to me, because you didn't - you just scowled at it when I showed it to you Saturday, and every time I brought it up again after that.


We finally made it to our hood and we had to use the restroom again so we stopped into another bar and sat and had a drink. It felt like we were kids left home alone for the first time, just going with the moment...We laughed our asses off and due to the alcohol I told you a few details regarding me I never shared with you before and it just made you sit closer to me pressing my hand in yours.

Sunday night I always get anxiety and now I know it's because I always have so much fun with you no matter what mundane activity we do. Over the weekend I fill up on you and get used to you all over again. Then by Sunday, when I become painfully attached, the cursed Monday rolls around and severs me from you, and as a means to protect myself I slip away back into my own mind and separate life.