I feel like I’m the only one who gets themselves into these things…

The Bunny texted me today that there’s a charity…thing…that he’s going to and asked if I’d like to go with him (tickets are expensive but he said he’d pay for mine).  

The charity event itself does not inherently appeal to me.  It’s just a bunch of standing around and talking plus a silent auction, I think.  And some hors d’oeuvres that I’m assuming I won’t be able to eat because of my food sensitivities.  Really, it doesn’t seem like the kind of thing The Bunny would be interested in, either, so I got it into my head that he had to attend for some reason and was desperate for someone to accompany him and make it less boring/awkward.  I was pleased to have been asked, and can relate to the concept of needing a social buffer.  Plus it wasn’t gonna cost me anything except the bus fare to get there and back, so what the hell.  I said okay, with the codicil that I can’t be out late that night because I work the next morning (subtext: “I may not be able to give you your money’s worth out of the $50 or so you’re offering to spend on my ticket”).  

After he bought the tickets, I realized that he’d said “charity event,” not “work party,” and wondered whether having to go to a charity event is even a thing.  Maybe I’d read way too much into this.  Maybe he was going of his own free will, and I’d basically just gotten him to spend a bunch of money paying for me to come out to this thing when he doesn’t need me there and I don’t particularly care about going.  Not that I can admit I don’t care, because the money’s already been spent.  But I was curious to know what the deal was.

So this conversation happened:

Me: How’d you find out about this thing?

Bunny: RopeGirl [RopeGirl is what I’ve decided to call that one friend of his whom I’ve met at open rope practice, and who “borrowed” The Bunny from me one night for a spanking scene.]

Me [trying to probe for more details]: Is this gonna turn into an awkward sitcom mixup where it turns out RopeGirl asked you there for a date and you misunderstood? :O

Bunny: No, she said you should come along.

Me: *starts humming the theme song from Three’s Company, then realizes you prolly don’t know what that is*

Bunny: Worst case I get sandwiched.

…And then there was a bunch of joking around about threesomes.

Hey, wait: when The Bunny invited me to this thing, I asked him what exactly goes on there and whether or not it’s formal dress, and he kinda didn’t know…he scrounged up a link to the event’s web page for me.  This doesn’t sound like the behaviour of someone who wants to attend this shindig and is looking forward to it.  So my instinct there was probably right.

So, why is RopeGirl going?  And why did she say I should come?  She and I aren’t friends*.

SO MANY QUESTIONS, but I don’t feel I can probe around too much lest The Bunny intuit that I do not actually give a shit about going to this thing.  

Just to be clear, I never seriously thought RopeGirl asked The Bunny there on a date.  Apparently she once told him “i don’t share well” (as in, she’s monogamous in her relationships) so I would imagine she does not see him as a romantic prospect.  And although The Bunny joked about threesomes, and RopeGirl identifies as pansexual, I really don’t think either of them is trying to set something up there.

Anyhoo, I guess I’m going to a charity thing in a few weeks.  I would imagine it’s at least a semi-formal affair (although the link The Bunny sent me is unclear about this) and actually I’m kind of psyched about that.  I have a cocktail dress I got on sale ages ago and haven’t had a chance to wear yet; it’s the same screaming-bright Crayola colour as my hair.  I’m thinking cocktail dress, fishnet stockings, and motorcycle boots (if the website had specified black tie, I’d jam my poor feet into a pair of heels, but it didn’t so fuck that).  I will look amazing.


*The first time The Bunny and I bumped into her after that spanking scene they did, she talked to him but didn’t even acknowledge me. I made a point of being friendly and trying to engage with her, just in case she was feeling weird about having smacked my boy around.  She responded when I talked to her and everything, but I didn’t feel like we were really hitting it off.  Whatever.


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3 responses to “Charity

  1. Thud

    “I have a cocktail dress … the same screaming-bright Crayola colour as my hair.” Whoa, I thought you said that one of the boyz helped you out, shaved your head. Now that I can identify with as I shave my head (with a blade), have for years. My family has the male pattern baldness gene anyway.

    I’m not submissive enough to accept some of your ‘practices’ (and I have hemoroids that would pain and bleed if you probed me) but I think we could be poly friends together with certain practices if you could deal with me being older than you. I’m the kind of guy that would buy you bus tickets, shave your head, and I generally am a gentleman. Just saying. After all, we’re several timezones separated, so its not going to happen.

    But it would be interesting to associate regularly/even just occasionally with an artist as I’m surrounded by science nerds and business types and industrial lawyers that have high opinions of themselves.

    I share your discomfort in being dragged out to something where the invitor doesn’t make it clear why I’m being included. I’m not antisocial, just asocial.

  2. Charity events, even for organizations I’m directly involved in, tend to be pretty dull. And frustrating. (These events cost how much to hold? That could feed how many food insecure kids?) If you can use it for networking or are interested in the cause, awesome. If not, you pretty much get to dress up and stand around talking to The Bunny for an evening.

    I have a cocktail dress I got on sale ages ago and haven’t had a chance to wear yet; it’s the same screaming-bright Crayola colour as my hair. I’m thinking cocktail dress, fishnet stockings, and motorcycle boots. I will look amazing.
    That sounds…yeah, amazing about covers it. *swoon*

  3. Pingback: <3 | hiding in plain sight

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