Diary of a guy named Doug

Interview, Oct, 1995

MONDAY, MARCH 27

. . . Worked in the sunshine all day yesterday, slept all night, and this morning my pits don't smell noticeably worse than my elbows and wrists. Then again, I do have a touch of a cold in my nose . . . but no matter. I'm taking deodorant off the shopping list. And it's my day off today, so I'm skipping the shower too.

FRIDAY, MARCH 31

There I was, handing out fliers on Castro, and along came a cheery triple, two men and a woman, liquored up and romantically intertwined all the way round. Hands in each other's butt pockets, laughing giddy, etc. - your basic threesome.

The woman (blond, with a big smile) made some semi-clever comment about my cape, one of the men followed up with another zinger, so I zinged 'em both back, and they laughed. Hey, it's easy to be witty when your audience is drunk. We said a few more sentences, and they were about to walk on, but one of the men suggested we hug. Beer does that to people. So what the heck - we all embraced, like the last episode of The Mary Tyler Moore Show, me and three strangers at the corner of Market & Castro.

While we held that circular hug, one of the men kissed the other man's cheek. He turned to his right, and passed that kiss along to me. So I turned to my right and kissed the pretty woman's cheek, and she in turn kissed the first man. Like I said, they were plastered, and I was in a "what the heck" state of mind, so we each turned the other cheek and kissed in the reverse direction. Then the huddle broke up, we all said good night, and they walked away laughing. End of story, and I started fumbling with my fliers again.

But after a few steps, one of the men came running back and embraced me again, saying loudly, "You're so damn cute!"

Well, what could I say? What could I do? There was nothing to say, and only one thing to do. I kissed him, full on the lips, complete with kissy sound effects. Smooch! And he kissed me back, slower, without any comical noise. His eyes were closed, and his kiss lasted lots longer than mine. He'd probably still be kissing me, if his lovers hadn't pried him away, laughingly calling him a slut.

Then they were gone.

As kisses go, it meant nothing. But so what? It's better to be kissed on a Friday night, even by a stranger, even by a man, than not to be kissed at all.

SATURDAY, APRIL 1

When I went to the john for my morning whiz, a cockroach was on the bristles of my toothbrush, eating whatever was left of yesterday's Crest. Killed that critter and rinsed off the brush, but now for the rest of my life, every time I brush my teeth I'll be thinking about roaches.

TUESDAY, APRIL 11

Had an "only in San Francisco" conversation with LeeAnn at work this morning. She commented that my pants are too big for me, which they are, and that I must be losing weight, which I am.

"Yup," I said. "But I'm too cheap to go to Thrift Town for some pants that fit, 'cause I had Twinkies for dinner last night, and might again tonight, so tomorrow these same pants might fit me fine."