This weekend, Sharkboy and I paid for our flight and hotel to Orlando. After nearly 40 years of fidgeting, I am finally going to Disney World!!! OHMYGOD PONIES!!!

We’re going for 7 full days, 8 nights next May and weirdly enough, we’ll be there for Gay Days and at least one Bear party at some chlorine enhanced water park. Time to dig out a red shirt!

We’ll be staying at The Pop Century Hotel (budget – ew) where everything is decorated huge. We’ve gone and got the Birnbaum’s Walt Disney World and Birnbaum’s Walt Disney World Without Kids books and have been creating strategies and park maneuvers to maximize the fun.

I am going to pee myself. 39 days and counting!

Also, if you do any travel agent bookings, I recommend Jake at Flight Centre, lower level at the Eaton Centre. As well as being efficient, fast and informative, he’s cubby cute. When he advised that the room we were booking would have two double beds I said “Yeah, one is for bouncing on!” he laughed. So he’s okay in my books.

With all the hype about the new run of The Bachelor these days, I’m reminded of my own brush with Naval gentlemaness (no, not you Evil Panda. Some day I will blog about us, to be sure).

About a million years ago I met this guy online who sent along his picture of himself (long before Myfacespace we actually had to send our graven images, kids!) in a snazzy dress uniform of the Canadian Navy. Strikingly handsome and in a uniform. It was like a gay demi-god landed in my lap. He wanted to go see a movie we had mutually agreed on and made plans to meet out front of his condo. Condo!

I buzzed up and he wasn’t quite ready yet, could I come up? Visions of us missing the movie due to court marshal role playing flashed into my head. He opened the door and was everything his picture promised. Groomed, short hair, bright smile.

“Are you t-t-t-t-t-tuh-Ted?” he said with a swallow.

Oh lord.

Now don’t get me wrong. I could see past stuttering to a very nice guy, based on our online messages. But there was no warning and I have the type of personality that is rather impatient at times and I know the worst thing you can do for stutterers is to correct them or second guess what they’re going to say.

Regardless I press on.

We’re standing outside the Uptown theatre (oh how I miss you Uptown) and we’re actually having a good time. We’re talking movie trivia and quite suddenly, mid-stammer, a big glob of spit flies from his mouth onto my chest. I think he didn’t notice, due to his non-acknowledgement of the spittle, but I certainly did.

This was the exact moment when I became aware of the saying “Elephant in the room”. I didn’t react. But my sudden shower certainly tainted the whole thing. I couldn’t stop thinking of how my friends would react to his stutter, what people might say about us behind our backs, how my family might treat him if he spit on them during dinner or something. The rest of the date had a definite “mood”.

We walked back to his condo and just as we reached his door, he turned and said, “I’ve had a great time. I hope we can be just friends!”

“You’re not into me?” I asked.

“Not in the slightest, that way.”

You stuttering fuck, I thought.