Hanging out in Ed's back yard with Suki

It was much warmer on Saturday, and we decided to spend the afternoon poolside working on our tans. First though, I worked out at the local World Gym in the morning. I guess Ed lives in a gay neighborhood because it seemed that everybody in the gym was gay. Once I got home, John Paul and Ed were still out back, yacking away, which meant, I knew, that we wouldn't get the day going until 2.00 in the afternoon since John Paul takes such an eternally long time for his morning bathroom activities.

Finally, by about 1.30, we were on our way. We stopped at the Wyndham to see how crowded the pool party was. But it was a mob scene and in any case we wanted to lie in the sun, not stand in a crowded court yard with a constant thump thump of techno music, so we spent the afternoon in one of the many clothing-optional resorts, where we both opted to keep our bathing suits on.

All dressed up for the White Party

After a disco nap, and a snack, it was time to get ready for the big event. I'd decided to go shirtless, since there didn't seem much point in taking a shirt only to take it off again once you're inside. As we drove off, my skin tingled with excitement and anticipation - I felt strong, sexy and youthful as the desert night air caressed my skin.

The line was quite long when we get there, but it moved quickly and soon we were inside, entering a sea of shirtless men. The main floor had been decorated to suggest the Palace of Versailles, but it seemed kind of irrelevant. Everywhere you looked there were sexy men, with astonishing bodies. But it was a cool crowd - much less engaging than in the clubs in San Francisco, although I did exchange smiles with a few handsome men during the evening. Early on, John Paul and I danced, and I immediately spotted an incredibly handsome African-American guy dancing near us. He turned out to be in the Navy, and I ended up spending a fair amount of the evening with him. Not only was he a looker, but he had that southern charm and grace about him, and a soft, gentle accent.

For a while, John Paul seemed to be enjoying it too. We hugged each other and swore that we loved each other. We would frequently part for one reason or another - John Paul liked to go outside for a smoke now and then - and as the evening progressed, I realized that every time we met up again, he was more and more glum. He was feeling, it turned out, old and unattractive, and just not welcome. I felt very badly for him, but there was nothing I could do to make him feel better. In the end, we parted, and made our separate ways home, both, coincidentally, arriving home around 4.00

Overall, I'd say I had a great time. But John Paul's unhappiness did cast a pall on it, and I'm worried that he'll head home to West Hollywood in a funk.