As a late-comer to all that diaper stuff, some of the more exotic things to do with it are still somewhat bewildering to me, so going to a diaper-themed party still feels odd to me. I’ve never been shy about my kinky side and I’m not going to pretend otherwise, but being surrounded by guys with diapered butts is still somewhat unusual to me, as much as I may enjoy looking at them (and the best ones always seem to be taken already or otherwise beyond reach :-| ). More or less I’m always half looking forward to such events, half dreading them.
Anyway, I’ll leave it to your imagination what may have transpired at that infamous event in Berlin (if you ever were there or planned to go, you know what I mean), since I’m not you to tell you all about it, but rather how it went wrong for me. Yepp, unfortunately the good Lord seems to have a funny way to tell me that I should stay home and spend boring evenings watching TV, even if for health and financial reasons something like this only happens every half year or so and I barely get out of my cave otherwise.
Things started out on Friday morning when I already felt like I had slept buried under a rock. Every muscle and bone in my body hurt and I had difficulty even getting out of bed. Things improved after I took my meds and the pain subsided, but still, I came close to cancelling the whole venture if it wasn’t for having made appointments already. So I packed my things and walked to our local train station laden with the usual travel baggage plus a generous supply of diapers, which in itself already was an exercise.
Once I was on the commuting train to Leipzig things eased off a little (with lots of cosplayers hopping on to visit the manga festival at Leipzig‘s book fair *yay*) and changing over to the ICE train to Berlin was a painless affair. In Berlin I took the S-Bahn and U-Bahn to pick up they keys for his flat at his workplace from one of my ex-lovers, where I would be bunked over the weekend. He followed shortly thereafter and then we chatted away over a cup of coffee, reminiscing about the old times and updating on the latest developments. He then left to be with his parents and current mate later in the evening, so I had everything to myself.
At that point I began to realize my first mistake: In all that time I didn’t get a minute’s rest and the typical chronic exhaustion and fatigue that come with a Sarcoidosis came back with a vengeance. It’s literally like you’re muttering to yourself “M-m-m-must sleep immediately!” or else you’ll just collapse where you are standing. So I lay down for a while and after a refreshing shower I felt sort of invigorated and prepared for the evening. I had some late dinner and took another round of medication before taking off to the party location.
I’m generally not too good at socializing in bigger crowds since the sheer number of people, the noise and everybody talking about something different tends to overwhelm my Asperger-ish brain. The stale air isn’t too good for my lung problems, either, and around guys that I find cute and attractive I tend to be a useless shy dork, but for a while I managed to find some quite corners and make a bit of conversation without being too much of a burden to myself and others.
Then things got a bit weird again. It seems I totally underestimated how fast my Opioids were being metabolized and inevitably when their levels dropped, I got those annoying cramps and spasms again. This has only been a recent development, but a rather scary one. Since I didn’t have a refiller with me nor some sort of emergency kit and it takes quite a while for these things to kick in, anyway, I felt I had to leave early. The way back using the subway was quite uncomfortable as at times a was twitching like an epileptic on the verge of a seizure. :-\ Even sleeping wasn’t pleasurable that night, since my body just didn’t seem to want to calm down.
Come the next day, I met with a good friend of mine and we went to the SeaLife/ Aquadome exhibition and did some walking through the city afterwards with him showing me a few places. When I returned to my (temporary) home around 5 P.M. I was totally knackered again and yet again had to sleep for two hours. When I woke up it was dark outside and my stomach was growling, which couldn’t mean anything good.
Soon enough my bowel issues manifested themselves and quite literally I spent the next hour shitting my guts out (pardon the language). I honestly had no idea what triggered it, but you never know what stuff you eat when in another town. After the whole affair I felt even more exhausted and frustrated, so I decided to not go out again this second evening. After watching some TV I fell asleep again and must have compensated for the whole days before.
Why am I telling you all this? Mostly to reassure the people that were there also that I actually was present, just not as much as I had liked. So if you missed me, I’m sorry. If you recognized me, regardless, feel free to leave a ping. To top it off, my train back home had almost an hour delay, but given the circumstances, I’d merely consider it yet another tiny part of a mostly bad weekend. Indeed someone doesn’t want me to be at least a bit happy and excited every now and then…