Rendezvous.

So you go to your terrace
For your post dinner smoke
And you're startled to see there
Not one, but two blokes
Then one things leads to another
Somehow you all end up drunk
Some laughs, flirting, stupidities
But no one's touching your junk
You go back home so happy
Smiling like a fucking fool
Thinking, for only a second,
That not each man is a tool
You  remember their names
You vaguely remember their faces too
But what a fun night it was
What a great rendezvous
How are there so many 'stories', you wonder
In a life so mundanely bourgeois
Anyway, you're just happy about one thing
That unlike other nights, you were wearing a bra.