Red Sangria Party

As mentioned before, there are two gay partners that live next to us, Leon and Andrew. Leon was the first neighbor we met. The kids met him before they met the house as he was out with his dogs Charlie and Lucy when we pulled up three weeks ago. I was surprised when he said he had a gay partner because he didn’t seem like the “type.” Not that there is a type I suppose. Right away he invited us to the Red Sangria Party he was throwing for Andrew’s birthday on Friday night. Jeff and I had never heard of a Red Sangria Party and we wondered if it was code for a special type of gay party. A quick look on the Internet revealed that the word “sangria” means blood in Spanish and a Red Sangria is simply an alcoholic beverage made with red wine. Not as exciting as imagined! Jeff was out-of-town on Friday but I listened behind my side of the fence all day as preparations were made and watched as white trucks delivered flowers, red balloons, and artsy looking fountains and tables. It was to be my first gay party.

I can see Leon and Andrew’s back yard through my bedroom window. So around 9:00, after the kids went to bed, I turned out the lights, pulled up the blinds, and opened the window a crack to receive sound. It felt like turning on the TV or opening a book since my looksy out the window would reveal a completely foreign way of life, a different world. I’m the girl who grew up in Utah County where the most exciting things I’d see from my window offered from the conservative Mormon neighbors were tree prunings or lawn mowings.

The thump of music blended beautifully with the torches and the bouquets of red balloons. A quick look at the party goers revealed the expected but still shocking, “sword fight.” A sword fight is the term my old friend Adam used in our single days to describe the type of party he did not want to attend – a party without women. I watched, my mouth agape, as good looking men dressed in stylish clothes seemed to thoroughly enjoy each others conversations and flirtations. One man was going around taking pictures of couples. At some point I fell asleep and woke around 12:30. A took a quick gander out the window and immediately closed the blinds. The lateness of the evening and no doubt, those red sangrias had produced more cuddling and caressing. For some reason I’d stopped enjoying my stint as a peeping Tom.

Leon proves to be my favorite neighbor so far. He lets Nicky play with his dogs. He likes to smile, talk, and loan tools. He owns his own landscaping/yard decorating business so he is wonderful to get ideas from for the yard. He sent us to Scandinavian Designs to find furniture but the couches are so low and artsy I felt like they were meant for children. He likes to take pictures of sunsets. He is sweet with the kids which brings me pangs of sadness. Would this man I hardly know like to have kids of his own? Does he feel sad about his lifestyle? It's not so mainstream for this neighborhood. How did his mother and father take the news? Or, is he perfectly happy in his home where the master bedroom closet is filled only with men’s clothes? Yes, all of this here for my mind to take in at the end of my new cul-de-sac.