The Engineer also Muses

I’ve been at QC, Queer Collaborations, since Sunday night. I met the crowd from last year, the newcomers, and settled into a routine of politics and queerity. QC is known for its networking options, the sharing of ideas around political and social movements, and sex.

Last year, I took a standpoint of no flirting, which was appropriate at the time. This year, however, I went footloose and fancy free, seeing who was around, what I liked, and who ticked my boxes. One person stood out. We’ll call him Jim for the purpose of this story.

I had met Jim last year at QC, and found him to be pleasant if unremarkable. However, a hint of flirting occurred when I first stumbled across him this year, and each time I saw him resulted in more giggles and glee-filled experiences.

The scene set, I was at a theatre with Jim and the QC crowd this evening, for a night of performance and revelry. I wasn’t going to go, but a lovely group of people including Kitty, Nae, and Eve from WA just shanghaied (are we still allowed to use that phrase?) into a lift there, and I wondered what could go wrong? Some Dutch courage, and off we set.

Shortly after arriving, I was asked to go back and get someone from the hotel. No worries, I thought, it’s only a quick trip. Upon returning, a fellow began to grasp at me and throw up, so I bundled him into the car and took him home. No sooner had I returned, then another sickly creature took to my car. Upon arriving for the fourth time, I finally caught Jim, and we had a chat.

Jim, it seems, sways towards asexuality. He warned me of this, and I said it was ok. We cuddled and made out a little, and then another three inebriated folk took themselves to the garden and then my car for joytrips back to the hotel. The fifth arrival was lovely, dancing with Jim on the floor with giggles and much touching, I could feel he had somewhat of a hard-on (do excuse me, I try not to be crude, but he did). It was at this point a friend had lost his bag, so things were quickly cut short as I searched for the lost bag.

When I popped back a moment later, it happened. Jim said that he didn’t want to go on tonight because he felt weird and used the tragic words “it’s not you, you know that right?”. I sighed, knowing I had either played the whole thing wrong, or I was simply infatuated with a person for whom the return of love would come in a different form.

I then took the friend of the lost bag, his beau, and another back to the hotel. I returned, collected some more people, back one last time to the hotel, and here I now sit. I have the ennui, I made no fewer than six return trips to the theatre, seemingly spending all of my night in the car as people took to my offer of a car and the ability to stop as one proceeded to clear their stomache. I feel like I fucked the whole thing up with Jim, and I really really like him, but I just don’t know what to do. I’m tired and confused and upset with work, and really just want people to leave me be for a while. No, I want to be with Jim, curled up quietly in bed, just snuggling.

I have a feeling I Touch Myself by the Divinals was also a tipping point, so I think I shall ultimately blame the DJ.

I’ve decided that I’m going to take an end-of-year vacation to Perth, whereby I can visit Kitty, Nae, Eve, hopefully Shane, and Jim. I leave Wollongong tomorrow for a day at work before I go to Japan for a week, and when I return, things should go back to usual, so I hope to have time to blog.