I spent the day with Ann St. Vincent on Sunday. You know you guys are jealous. And you should be.
Before we met, I’d had this image of her in my head. Something like a cross between Anne Bancroft in Mrs Robinson, but blonde and blue eyed, but with the hairstyle of Tippi Hedren in The Birds. I don’t know why I was imagining her as some woman from the 60s. She is barely older than myself.
I tried not to build her up too much in my mind before I met her. After reading her blog it is almost impossible not to. But I needn’t have worried. She was as charming as she seems to be on her blog. And just as funny too.
When I first got to her hotel, I got a little worried. It was fancy. Way fancier than any place I’d normally be comfortable. And I wasn’t comfortable.
She had me valet my car which is really only something I’ve done at the fancy-pants Emergency Room I go to. When I walked into the lobby it smelled like money and sexy man cologne.
I went into the hotel’s bathroom to pee before going up to meet her. The bathroom STALL was bigger and classier than my entire bathroom in my apartment. It had a frosted glass door for fuck’s sake.
When I finished, I went to wash my hands. I coated them in liquid hand soap and then paused. There was no knob to the faucet so I expectantly put my hands under the sink, expecting it to be an automatic. But nothing happened.
I looked around. Was I missing something? I started twisting things and pressing things. It was like trying to play a game of bop it.
I held my hands under the faucet again. I tend to have issues with automatic dispensers. I can only assume because I do not have a soul.
But nothing happened. I started pressing more and more unlikely things. I was pushing on random tiles in the wall. Like it was some secret passage in a castle that would lead me to the land of water.
And still, I couldn’t figure out the magical combination to get that damn sink to turn on. It was like the three seashells in Demolition Man. I was just stuck, with my hands covered in soap. What I really needed was an adult, but they are never around when you really need one.
So I finally broke down and rinsed them with the water in my water bottle.
I went back out into the lobby feeling like a failure. I couldn’t even pass the first fancy person test of washing my hands in the bathroom. An entire family was mean mugging me while I waited for Ann to come meet me. I was starting to regret the whole thing.
And then I met Ann. She greeted me with a big hug. Which I normally don’t like, but for some reason, it was okay with her. I suspect she just has that ability to put people at ease.
She completely swept me off my feet. She paid for my valet parking. She bought me lunch. I felt like the prostitute in Pretty Woman, only less pretty. I joked several times that I was going to swoon. If she was trying to get into my pants, it was totally working.
But she wasn’t.
We talked until my throat was sore. She is an excellent conversationalist too. I was my typical weirdo self. We talked about everything from my usual serial killers and cannibalism to sex and the hilarity of unsolicited dick pics.
We even got to talk about the real problems with lesbian porn (fake fingernails, fingering, and probably some gross vaginal bacterial infections from funky fake fingernails). My issues with betiality (lack of consent on the part of the animal). And pegging.
She’s even trying to get me to do a guest post on her blog, so stay tuned for that.
If I can be serious for a moment (and I can because it’s my blog). I never expected this blog to be more than some good therapy/entertainment for me. But instead it has turned into this whole community of wonderful people and connections. I have gotten more emotional support from my blog friends than I have from most of my real life friends. And as I am turning my blog friends into real life friends, I am so grateful to be here and to know the people that I know. Thank you guys.