Witless

This evening I'll be having visitors - which unfortunately might preclude my precious blogging time - though I shall still try to sneak off for a line or two. Marcus, possibly the sole blogger on that lonesome rock in the sea called Jersey, has made plans to come by my place this evening. Ordinarily, this wouldn't come as a surprise since I do like meeting new people and its always interesting to talk to someone you've actually written letters too. Certainly would be interesting to see the man I've called my Father Confessor. Very Daddy Long Legs actually.

But when he told me that he was bringing an accompanying entourage of gay men, I was stunned. In my fantasy life, a posse of virile ( possibly morally loose ) gay men flocking to my home sounds like a wet dream come true but it's far from being ideal in reality.

Skanky reputation notwithstanding, I am actually a terribly shy, modest creature who gets hopelessly tongue-tied in real life. There's a serious secret identity issue here - the brash, confident blogger you see online on one side and the mild-mannered, bashful Clark Kent physician in real life on the other. I hear you guys laughing out there - so stop it :) It's true actually. Meeting a large group of possibly hostile total strangers makes my knees waver, my heart quail in fear and my usually flexible tongue getting all tangled up in unintelligible knots.

My first approach would be to babble witlessly, more so if the stranger closely resembles the heartbreakingly sexy Chris Evans. Trying to fill the oddly painful silences, I'll be busy mumbling nonsensical blather about the weather, the road signs, the cars, the people who pass by, the varying political system in Iraq etc. Chattering mindlessly in breakneck speed without stopping for breath like a cow auctioneer - so sadly no one else manages to get a word in edge-wise. Unless the guy in question reaches out to spank me - or to kiss me. Both methods work by the way.

Since it occurs to me being silent might be preferable to appearing the blathering fool, my second approach is to remain chillingly aloof - terribly snootily so, I'm afraid. Like an arrogant aristocratic bastard who refuses to mix with the tawdry hoi polloi, nose up in the air and stiff upper lip which as you might be able to guess obviously doesn't go down that well as first impressions go.