Door's locked to the sacred area

Last Friday I was in a very interesting situation. I met with the Talented Mr Ripley, from now on Mr Young, for drink and some dindins. Very nice. Mr Young was a bit ill so we took it very relaxed. Afterwards we went to my flat ´cos he wanted to see it. "For some tea". And it felt like we might be having some less friendly activities there. But God almighty thought differently. He made the whole thing impossible by fiddling with the Spinster´s keys. As it happens, the Spinster, in a flux of extreme intelligence on Friday morning, managed to push in her own keys through the little opening below the flat-door. Why? Well she was thinking that it was bloody unneccesary to carry around two sets of keys all day. Only pb was that the other set in her yellow handbag was the office-keys. Which the Spinster realized when she came to work. But the Spinster was cool and non-worried. It would be no problem whatsoever to jerk the keys back from the opening again.

But the real problem emerged when Mr Young and I was going in to my house. My not-so-intelligent-brain hadn´t thought of the fact that the keys are also needed to get into the first door. The house-door. So we just stood there in the cold and came nowhere. And the whole night ended with Mr Young taking a cab home and myself having to spend the night at at gay 40-th party on the Hill with Chablis (whom I was going to camp with until the morning when I could bang my neighbours´ doors). So God decided himself that mr Young and I were not going to cuddle up on my sofa sipping on some green tea and discussing philosophy. Which was just as well. Fate is in my hand.

It feels a little bit like my new flat is going to be a sacred area, where no skimpy activities are going to happen. So far, no men-men (friend-men do not count) have been there and hence no skimpiness. And I will keep it this way.