This is an epic tale and will require several blogs. ~S
There was some possibility that a house party with the Balance may be missed. As the Bard was touring the south there was no certainty that I would be able to get there on my own. Korea was fast approaching, though so I knew that I would move mountains to get to the obscure location of the party should it come to that. Fortunately for me the Bard returned roughly 24 hours before the party was slated to begin, and it was agreed that we would maintain tradition and arrive together.
The crowd in attendance tonight was a familiar group, minus the Cowboy (who was completing a musical theater engagement) and the Psychiatrist (who had run off to join the military and was currently missed; hopefully, he was safe and sound and making a difference wherever he may be). The usual set of Kitchen Irregulars were in attendance. Doomhammer let us in with a large smile and a warm hug, looking both ridiculously handsome and boyishly charming at the same time. Seated around the table were (of course) the Balance, sitting in the center and managing the mob, the Molester, who smiled and winked and leered cheerfully, and the Jedi, who was all warm smiles and long lashes.
The table was filled on all sides with others joining for a night of ribaldness and drinking. The new-to-me Irregulars were all gamers, as the Balance managed, ran, recruited, and slave-drove gamers through virtual obstacles and strange worlds. vVv gaming (http://www.vvv-gaming.com/) is the circle from which the cheerful gamers at the table had been plucked. To the left of the Balance was Moxy, a dark-haired pixieish Betty Page lookalike with attitude. Across from her on the other side of the Balance sat Titan, a trumpet player turned Starcraft player with ambitions to conquer more distant planets before conquering sheet music. Next to Titan was...
Here's the thing: no matter how hard I tried I have to admit that the person sitting next to Titan was so bland and so boring, that I kept thinking (and continue to think) of him as Boring Brian. However, neither his gaming name nor his real name was Brian. For some reason that was what stuck, for reasons which may become clear as we continue.
At first the conversation looked to continue, but then the Balance decreed that introductions needed to be made. We all knew him, but we did not know each other, or for some of us it was the first time we were meeting. The Balance turned to Ms. Moxy, who with little adeu and no aplomb, said her name, her handle, and passed.
“That’s it?” asked the Balance.
“I’m sure the rest will come out eventually.”
The Balance allowed it and we moved on to the Molester, who did roughly the same thing.
“That’s it, I’ll do it. This is the Molester. I have known him since we were twelve when I baptized him in one fell swoop, blackening his eye, annoying his family, and making a lifelong friend.”
“You did baptize me, didn’t you?” The Molester smiled and laughed and shook as the story spilled out in more detail to become one of those quaint full-of-charm stories about how two young strangers could become friends of decades after a fitful start. This was how the Balance liked his introductions. Rather than name, rank, and occupation, he demanded stories. The stories that bound you, defined you, that made you distinct and interesting and special.
The Balance told a story about each one of us, some more personal than others. There were no details to sacred around the Balance's dining-room table. We were all inned or outed as the Balance saw fit. Thus it was revealed that Titan was trying to make the difficult decision of a scholarship for music or a lifelong desire to play games for a living. Ms. Moxy was a gamer, a mother, and a trouble maker. And Boring was a twenty-year-old with the most basic of relationship conflicts. The Balance related a bit of his story and said that he would ask Boring to provide further details at a later point.
The Balance described his friendship with the Bard; and while their story didn't include a baptism it most certainly contained the kind of bonding between two people that was more intimate than a marriage, closer than a friendship, and full of love and mutual respect. Then the Balance turned his introduction lens on me.
“Ms. Devil. I keep saying she is an English teacher but that is no longer true.” He continued to introduce me.
“I also keep a blog. You’ll all be there in the morning.”
“Ah, yes, Ms. Devil’s blog. Yes, the stories, that is how I got the name the Balance, although I don’t know why.”
“Because you showed up at a thousand-dollar dinner and declared ‘Tell me to wear a suit? I almost wore sweatpants.’ And it sort of balanced the whole thing out.”
“Ah, yes, I remember that dinner.” And we went on to recount tales of tequila drinking, stripping, and all manner of wild sexual excess from all parties before the Balance interjected with, “And most recently. You had a great story about your weekend with IML. You must, you must tell the story.”
And so I began to recount my tales of hanging out at conventions of Leather Fetishists and aficionados with occasional interjections from the crowd. One notable commentator was Moxy, who embodied both easily enough a supreme love of naughtiness and a temperament for tawdry quips. Her play with the Balance, her ribald sense of humor, and her absolutely no-holds-barred interaction with the circle made me like her instantly. As the crowd was amused by my tales of Leather Daddy Alpha, we briefly dipped into a conversation about my own relationship and relationships. Ms. Moxy declared “I want to be you in six years.”
“Why wait?” I responded back.
As my story would down with a description of the electric shocking that had recently occupied many of my weekends she asked “Can I have your number?”
“Honey, you can have my address.” At which point we both smiled in the most devilish way at each other.
“I am so glad you two have finally met,” said the Balance with a grin as laden with plot as Mephistopheles, “I think you should tryst.”
Smiles. It was quite clear that as the Balance would describe it, has described it, does describe it, we are both filthy, filthy whores. Both Moxy and I smiled and wore the description proudly. And why not?
Monday, June 20, 2011
This is an epic tale and will require several blogs. ~S