Throwing Myself On the Mercy of the Universe

The universe isn't personal, that I know. Sometimes, though, it feels like it has one SICK sense of humor.

Last night I met The P for dinner and to go to something called "The Slurred Word" over at Fish Bar. I have mentioned the host of this particular event in a prior post. A 6-foot 7-inch Brit. Well, last night, we re-met. Turns out he hardly remembered meeting me that first time, only, as he claims, that I was somehow important.

We ended up outside during the break, having a smoke and chatting. After the Slurred Word we ended up sitting in a corner of the bar, talking head to head for what seemed like hours. I like him. And he is not married and has no girlfriend.

I took him home. And we just went to sleep.

Now, here's where this gets comical.

Guess who his best friend is? That's right ladies and gentlemen, the EVG is Tall Brit's best friend.

Tall Brit and I have made a plan to have a date on Saturday. We are going to the Brooklyn Botanical Garden to look at the Cherry Blossoms.

The EVG is supposed to come over to my house TOMORROW to talk about some more shelves.

Here is my plan: Full disclosure. Tell EVG tomorrow, in person, that I have met his friend and that I would like to explore the potential there, where there is at least a possibility of a better outcome. And the hard one will be to tell Tall Brit that I have had a thing with his friend EVG going on for the past couple of months. I would rather he find it out up front from me rather than through the gossip mill of Salem's Lot where I would have to "confess" something in the future. At that point the transgression would be concealment rather than actually fucking his friend before he met me.

Any help, anyone? I welcome input from anyone and everyone, but a guy's perspective would be good.