I have not updated in a Long Time.

I went to Vancouver for a week, visited Martin (my bro) and his girlfriend, and looked for work.

Nothing.

I was discouraged.

I also got lost in the woods, and had a dream about it last night.

Well, not LOST lost. Just...I knew where I was going, I just didn't know where I *was*.

I found my way back to civilization all right. My brother made fun of me.

Upon returning to Calgary, I promptly booked myself up until the end of Stampede, working on the Grandstand show. Lots and lots of monies! I like money. Means I can pay bills and shite.

~

Last sunday I called my friend Rosa.

"Shoe shopping an Wall-E?" I tempted.

"I have a better idea," says she. "Fetish night."

So we went to Fetish Night together. It was fun. It was a scene I've been looking for for a long time.

Even though I was wearing a skirt that barely covered my ass, I still felt overdressed. It was kind of funny.

There was a woman wearing a vinyl dress with the chest and the ass cut out, with electrical tape across her nipples. I was outside nearby, cooling off, while she was smoking. At one point she turned around to the people behind her and asked:

"Hey, guys, if you see mosquitoes on my ass, can you kill them? I can scratch bites on my chest okay, but I don't want to go around work scratching my ass."

I wouldn't have even thought about that.

There was some really creepy guy there, named John. He touched me way too much (which wasn't much, but considering I had just met him, it was way too much).

At one point, between acts, everyone was dancing on the stage (it was a strip joint, but there were no strippers performing), and when I dance I close my eyes all except for a slit (to make sure I'm not going to crash into anyone).

I knew he was nearby, as the stage was small, and then I felt a finger hook on the ring on my collar.

My hand was pushing that hand away even before my eyes snapped open to check who it was.

Sure enough, it was creepy John. He tried to give me a seductive smile, which I returned with a stony look, and then I went back to dancing.

He didn't try touching me again, but I also avoided him.

It's funny: people don't seem to realize that there are rules within the alternative community, no matter how loose it seems to be.

Don't grab someone's leash or collar without permission, just as you wouldn't hug someone without invitation.

Ugh. Creepy people.

Oh! But Rosa was introducing me around, and she mentioned to someone it was my first time out.

"Oh!" the guy said. "I'm surprised. You look, well..." He waved a hand, indicating me up and down.

"Like I've been around the block a few times?" I laughed.

"No, no!" he laughed. "Just, your collar and cuffs are functional. You don't look like a newbie."

I grinned. "I've been looking for this scene for a long time. I've missed it," I explained.

Most of my kit and clothes needs to be replaced, because it's getting old. But I'll work on that, now that I have a reason to.

At the end of the night, I was sitting about the stage, just watching people dance, and relaxing. Some guy sat down next to me.

"Hello!" he said. He had an accent. "My name's Pete. What's yours?"

"Rosie," replied I, shaking his hand. "Where's your accent from?"

"England," he said.

"Ah," I said.

"Thanks for not guessing Australian," he said, smiling.

"I wouldn't have guessed Australian," I said. I had actually been tossing up between English and Kiwi. It wasn't twangy enough to be Australian. "I don't like assuming people's accents," I added, thinking of how close the English, Kiwi, and Australian accents are, and about how irked I would be if everyone thought I was American.

We ended up talking for a while, he rubbed my shoulders a bit, and he asked if I wanted to go back to his hotel with him (turns out he's an air force boy, in town for some training).

"No," I said brightly.

"Well, what if I come back to your place with you?"

"I'm not going to fuck you," I said, laughing. "So you might as well stop trying."

"Aw," he said. "How can you rule it out just like that?"

"Because that's just how I am," I explained, smiling.

He asked for my phone number anyway, and then thought better of it.

"Well, how about I give you my number, and you can phone me or not."

"No," I said firmly, pulling out a pencil and a scrap of paper. "I won't phone you. I'll give you my number." I know I would never phone, because that's just how I am.

"Oh," he said, surprised. "Alright."

Truthfully, I didn't think he'd call, because I'd told him that I wouldn't fuck him, but the next morning I got a call from him, asking if I wanted to go out for a drink.

Long story short, because of my crazy work hours, we never did connect again, but there were a number of phone calls, and too many text messages (considering his was an English number, and it costs me twenty-five cents per international text message).

He has good grammar, even in text messages, and he's very articulate. I like that.

Physically, he's a small man, smaller than me. Average looking, not bad on the eyes, head shaved in the military fashion. I'd peg his age to be mid-thirties.

In my brain, I call him Pete the Pilot. He has a theme song, and a dance, and a funny little hat he wears at a jaunty angle.

In reality, I don't think he has any of these things.

But it amuses me anyway.

.

Rosie.

Before&After