Sock Puppet Theatre

Sometimes actions speak louder than words.

Names have been changed to protect the typical.

Name of Date: Doctor Man

Date #: 3

Title of Last Date: Pinch Me I Must Be Dreaming

Amount of Time Between Dates: 2 weeks

What Happened: I know it's been like over a year since I wrote about my first date with Doctor Man so if you need to go re-familiarize yourself with what happened, be my guest.

Done?

Are you leaking with anticipation to know how things worked out? Well change your square-cut 2-xist trunks with pouch enhancement and continue reading...

Our second date was pretty standard, so I skipped a boring description of walking through the art museum and milkshakes despite it being a highly adorable date. Onto date 3!

Doctor Man informed me he'd found a movie in the $5 bin at Wal-Mart that sounded good so I should come over and watch it. I told him that sounded lovely as long as we could play scrabble first. This was at the beginning of my scrabble renaissance aided by the ability to play scrabulous on facebook. Remember that? Then Hasbro had to be a dick and ruin our fun. I was also excited because the $5 bin of movies at Wal-Mart was a college tradition. Find the lamest awfulest worstest sounding movie and then buy it and get drunk while watching it and making fun of it. I was pleased he had the same taste in judgmental fun.

When I get to his GORGEOUS house I am a bit taken aback when a 40 year old woman with a really bad face lift opens the door. Housekeeper? Is my first thought. Patient suing for malpractice over botched cosmetic surgery come to strangle him? Is my second. Seriously... it was. And that option would have been more acceptable than the truth; Mother. Um... you're a doctor and you live with your mom? I cannot even. Why? His explanation was something to do with her divorce and money and other shit that didn't really make sense. Plus his assurance that "the whole upstairs was his" didn't really make this situation sound temporary... or impressive. I half expected a "No Girl's Allowed" sign on his door. Or a pillow fort.

We begin by playing scrabble. I seriously love this game because I rule at it. I never expect to win, but I enjoy dominating the other player and making them feel the sad sorrow of loss. However, Doctor Man, didn't even put up a fight. There was no effort it was all CAT and HOME and excitement over landing on the lame-ass double letter score with a vowel. SERIOUSLY?! You are a DOCTOR! Or are you? I am beginning to doubt your credentials since you live with your mom and cannot put more than 3 tiles down at a time on this board. I slaughter him, obvi. But he is not phased. Just excited to watch the movie.

He pops it in and let me just give you a rundown of the premise:

Satan has taken control of purgatory so God his sending his Arch Angels to defeat him and restore order there. Except all the angels are dying because they get depressed and can't overcome the despair there? It's very Blade Runner is purgatory apparently. Also there are guns. Heaven guns. That are used to kill demons? God has sent Gabriel as his last hope to defeat Satan and Gabriel is this ripped no-shirt wearing bad-ass who fucks a LOT of fallen girl angels along the way. In the end of the movie we realize Michael (another arch angel) is actually Satan (what?) and Gabriel defeats him with God Guns because plausible. I wish I could remember the name of this abomination.

Sounds HILARIOUS right? Like give me a bottle of wine and I will laugh my ass off through this thing. But Doctor Man is taking this shit seriously. He wants to cuddle and is actually drawn in by the story. THIS. THIS!? He struggled through an episode of It's Always Sunny... with me and didn't laugh once! We clearly have very different ideas about what is entertaining and his ideas are clearly wrong and bad.

We make it through the whole movie without him laughing once and me trying so hard to contain my guffaws over the bad dialogue/gratuitous ab shots. No Angel-Homo. But at least it's over and we can get to the main attraction. 3rd date first time sex with mom in the house.... yes. Arguably the 83rd best type of sex EVER.

Our makeouts bring us to the bedroom where we fall on the bed and clothes begin to methodically come off. I forget if I mentioned in the last post but this guy has seriously phenomenal abs. And the insanely mouth-watering sex v. All hangups about his mother and the bad taste in cinema are overshadowed by his body and the fact THAT HE IS A DOCTOR. Much can be forgiven for a hot guy with money plus fire crotch. This euphoria lasts only a moment though when he neglects to remove his socks.

Now I know this isn't a big deal, but it is an indication of something larger. You make think the removal of socks isn't necessary for sex, and that fixating on it is stupid and picky, but let me teach you something right now. The choice to not remove socks during sex is a huge insult. It says, you are not worth the time for me to fully undress. It says, I'm kind of tired and lazy so you're going to be doing most of the work right now. It says, I know I look ridiculous, but I don't care, I'm only in this to get off. By not removing socks a person is essentially telling you that your encounter doesn't mean much to them. Think about it. It's true and you know it.

And I was right. He lay there for most of it expecting me to do all the work. It was brief and didn't last long. I found it incredibly disappointing. The only time he rose up off the bed was his moment of climax (and sorry if this is too personal/gross) so that it could land on me. A clearly demeaning action. I don't want to get all feminist and preachy on you guys, but his subtle actions spoke volumes about how he really felt about me.

I left feeling pretty gross and unsatisfied. But I was polite enough to not mention that to his mother who offered me a beverage before I walked out the door.

Gained Points for: His Body

Lost Points for: His misogynist actions

Mistakes I Made: Castrating him in scrabble? But he didn't even really mind that!

Chances for Another Date: I'm not sure. We need to have a serious talk about what and what isn't good sex first.

Overall Grade: D

But I Gotta Kn-Kn-Kn-Know Wha-What's Your Strat-te-tegy?

Sometimes Alltimes I forget to wear my poker face.

Names have been changed to protect the exhausting.

Name of Date: Shoulda Coulda Woulda

Date #: 1

Looks Like: A straight up 4 on Facebook, but a solid 7 in person. Some people do not photograph well. Also buzzed head and gap toothed. But cute cap toothed not hillbilly gap toothed.

Occupation: Environmental Protecting Tree-Hugging something or other business.

Where We Met: So I had just moved to DC. It was literally my 2nd day living here. I had spent the day running numerous errands to get my new licence, buy stuff for my place, etc. I was exhausted and just wanted to spend the evening in. However one my friends was so excited I was finally in town that he invited me out for dinner with a few of his friends. I reluctantly agree on the basis that I need to meet people and it's lameass barfo to just stay home on a Friday night.

When I get to the thai place my friend is there and introduces me to his friends. One of them is this very nice deaf guy. Oh man it is so hard to not make Helen Keller jokes. I am evilsauce. The other is Shoulda Coulda Woulda. I immediately think he is cute and make a mental note to be as charming and flirty as possible. Then I remember... "oh wait... THAT IS ALREADY HOW I LIVE MY LIFE EVERY MOMENT OF THE DAY AND NIGHTTIMES!" So it wasn't hard to do. Plus meeting my husband the 2nd day I moved to DC would be a phenoms story.

Throughout dinner SCW launches into several impassioned speeches on different political topics. He is incredibly well spoken and is not afraid to offend people. He tells the deaf guy that being blind is worse than being deaf. Whoa. Bold move there, buddy. But I'm always attracted to gusto and just saying whats on your mind. Also I'm still going through my assholes are hot phase. It is the WORST. Anybody have a cure for that?

As dinner nears it's end SCW suggests we all head to this gay club because it is free vodka from 11pm to Midnight. A drunk homo says what? what? I am there. Our clan begins the 5 day walk to this place. Ok it was more like 30 minutes, but I am not used to walking cities yet and I wanted to die and was wearing flip flops. There was so much sweating and frowning happening I'm surprised they didn't just leave me on the side of the road or donate me to a homeless man. "Here. Take this. He is a mess."

However on the walk there SCW and I share a phenomenal conversation about his faith, about what he wants to do, about how we have so much in common. It is spectacular. I really like him. This convo continues all night at the club. We ignore everyone else and are entirely fixated on one another as we down our free vodka and cranberries. I tease him all night pointing out the ugliest guys saying "oh man. i wish he was MY boyfriend." And he chuckles politely and says "Then I wish I was him." WHAT?! Hardcore flirting has been achieved. I have been given the green light for thigh grabbing/nonchalant/"unintentional" crotch-brushing. His hand is either on the small of my back or in my pocket for the REST OF THE EVENING. I love those blatant gestures of ownership. A gay club is one of the few places I enjoy feeling like property. yessuh.

We leave the club and he walks me back to the metro. We exchange numbers and I can tell he wants to kiss me, but instead we share a long hug. I am ecstatic. The next day he texts me and asks if he can take me to dinner. UM OBVIOS!

What Happened: OK! So the "real" first date begins. We meet up and he takes me to this burger place that is kinda ok but also kind touristy. I don't mind to much since it's my 3rd day in the city and everything is new. Dinner conversation seems kind of forced, and I'm curious as to why. We both have plenty to discuss and there isn't ever a lull, it just didn't feel natural like it did the night before. I blame this on the absence of liquor to lubricate things. Luuuuuubricate. Heh.

After dinner he takes me on a tour of most of the monuments. It's actually really great to have a personal tour guide and not do this alone with some map. I can tell he enjoys being in charge and taking control. I'll take Dom Top for $1000, Alex. I am beginning to think maybe I should write a gay glossary for all you non heteros who follow this. Or maybe enforce some required reading before indulging in these posts. Does a Gay Encyclopedia exist? Probs.

The monuments are especially beautiful at night. Do people know this? I think people must know this. But if you do not know this I am telling you now. During our walking tour the conversation does get better. We discuss our high school histories, our families, our future plans. And while everything is great intellectually, I do not feel the same interest from him that I was feeling last night. There are no lingering touches and no longing looks. I decide in my mind that he felt he was coming on too strong last night and that he needs some re-assuring from me that I am interested.

"you know what the world needs? another musical about vampires!"

-frank wildhorn

What follows is an account of how i play the game. I wish I could say this was abnormal:

While at the tidal basin:

Me: I really am looking for something serious. A guy I could raise kids with

SCW: I don't want kids

While at the reflecting pool:

Me: (Reaching for his hand)

SCW: (Folding my arms is necessary right now)

While at the FDR memorial:

Me: You are so cute

SCW: (Pretends not to hear)

While at the Jefferson memorial:

Me: So I really like you

SCW: Do you need help finding the metro to get home?

ALL OF THESE THINGS are clear indicators that he is not interested. And dejected I finally get the hint. He it not prince charming. He is not what I hoped he would be. Hopes dashed. Then as he is walking me to the metro he says "Actually. I should take you home. Make sure you get there alright. Maybe see your place?"

It clicks in my head. This has been a different game all along. The more I show interest, the more he pulls away. I'm on some fucked up see-saw and I need to find the perfect balance to keep him interested. Being crazy mcmarry me please isnt' doing me any favors, but aloof asshole might. I tell him he can do whatever he wants which he responds to with getting onto the metro with me.

When we get to my place I take him up to my room and prepare for groping/makeouts. As I lean in to kiss him he pulls away and says "I should go." he was in my room for less than 4 minutes. No joke. Why even bother coming in? I tipped the scale too far, I suppose. As I walk him out he says he'll call me tomorrow. I do not have high hopes.

Gained Points for: His initial interest and charming behavior

Lost Point for: Being wishy-washy and making it too difficult for courting to actually happen. Being afraid I'll say too much or not saying enough is psychologically damaging! Plus I hate the game. I hate it so much.

Mistakes I Made: Playing the game. It' like Jumanji. Once you start you gotta finish and most of the time someone ends up a crazy bearded guy stalking you and begging you to help him. Amiright?

Chances for Another Date: If he calls, of course I will.

Overall Grade: C+

There are Shouldn'ts and Shoulds

Sometimes Stephen Sondheim needs to write songs about my life.

Names have been changed to protect the fated.

Name of Date: Happenstance

Date #:1

Looks Like: Your outdoorsy flag football playing owning several dogs driving a jeep flannel boxer wearing type.

Occupation: Owns his own business making custom windows for different buildings. Apparently that is a thing. I mean obviously that is a thing, but who actually meets those people? Me.

Where We Met: So on my way to "Enough About Me" (which was one of my more popular posts. thanks so much fans and fanettes) I am getting off of the metro and heading up the escalator when I see Happenstance and very nonchalantly check him out. And by nonchalantly, I mean staring like he's not wearing any clothes. He's very attractive and chiseled and dreamy pants. I try not to be so obvious about my interest, but I can't help it. He notices and smiles and we begin some hardcore eye sex. Like my eyes were like "oh hey." and His eyes were like "sup" and then our eyes just stared making out in the middle of the room and dry humping each other while the other eyes around were like "gross."

So his literal eyes, not our metaphoric thrusting ones, follow me all the way up the escalator and makes me feel cute and desired and gives me confidence for the date I'm about to go on.

Which was obviously awful.

On the way back home I am upset that I wasted an evening and think "I should have just followed that guy wherever he was going." And lo and behold I pass him again as I'm heading down into the metro. I couldn't believe it. The odds are one in five billion. He sees me and just laughs and asks "did you plan this?" I can barely contain my glee and confirm that no, I did not stalk him. We chat for a brief moment before I hear my train coming and run to catch it. And like an idiot I do not get a number. All I have is first name.

On the train ride home my brain switches between the lyrics of "Moments in the Woods" and "Steps of the Palace." Because I feel like some sort of gay Cinderella. Cinderfella if you will. The way that movie SHOULD HAVE BEEN. Also singing Into the Woods to myself on the metro is one of the gayest things I've done. But feeling a cross between the baker's wife and Cinderella is a pretty damn cool feeling.

So what is our culture's slipper as pure as gold? Craigslist missed connections, baby. or grindr I supposed. For all you heteros... don't ask. (don't tell.) So many gay jokes! Regardless once I am home I check the missed connections and sure enough there is a posting for little old silly me. We exchange numbers and set a time to meet up for coffee the next day. Hooray sometimes the world is full of amazing moments and the starts just align and everything is right. That's when you know you're fucked.

What Happened: So the next day I'm all excited about our date and tell everyone about the amazing way we met. A perfect mixture of fairy tale coincidence mixed with technology's help. A modern parable.

As the day goes on we are texting and he tells me he has to have dinner with his sister so our date might need to end early. I am ok with this and impressed that he is close with his family because that is something I am not. I'm also grateful he told me and didn't just end things prematurely with me wondering what I did wrong.

When I arrive at starbucks we have about an hour of time before he needs to leave. I wait. and wait. and wait. After 20 minutes I call him to see what's up. Apparently traffic is so bad that he cannot find a parking space. So I keep waiting and waiting and waiting. By the time he walks in the door we legit have 15 minutes before he has to leave again. I'm annoyed but invigorated by the challenge to impress someone in limited time. It will be like a one round speed date.

We begin with the usual get to know you things. Happenstance is very kind and polite and communicative which I like and tips me off to the fact that he's probably older than I think he is. I don't mind this. Dating older dudes is the next step. If he's in his 30s that wouldn't bother me. There is a baby at the table next to us and he can't stop staring. He is enthralled by her, which I find adorable. I can tell he wants kids... and soon. Which makes me think... ok maybe mid 30s? I would be mostly ok with that. Suddenly I notice the beginnings of grey hairs on his temple. How old IS he? I begin to worry and come out with

"So is it rude to ask how old you are?"

"No. 42."

"I'm sorry I wasn't asking for the answer to the meaning of life. I wanted to know your age."

"42."

..............

I am on a date with a FORTY-TWO YEAR OLD MAN. I am that guy. I mean am I that guy? Have I transitioned to the point where I can no longer tell who is older than 30 and eliminate them from being considered? Am I resolving my messed up daddy issues. Am I SERIOUSLY out with some guy 17 years older than me who was already having sex with dudes when I was in kindergarten? In an instant the Sondheim song changes to "Hello Little Girl (Boy)."

It is time for him to leave. I am so grateful for the time constraint because I cannot wrap my head around the fact that the universe clearly wants me to date this guy. This very older guy who will be 60 when I am 38 and probably still very hot and good looking. I walk him to his car confused as all hell and wonder If I need to add "daddies" to my interests on my online profile. Again you heteros don't EVEN wanna know.

Gained Points for: Being polite and kind and respectable

Lost Points for: Looking 10 years younger than he really was

Mistakes I Made: Being agist? Is that really a mistake though? Sometimes dealbreakers are just dealbreakers.

Chances for Another Date: I am still on the fence about it

Overall Grade: B

My Own Medicine

Sometimes I'm just not in the mood.

Names have been changed to protect those without a chance.

Name of Date: Hopeless

Date #: 2

Looks Like: Imagine the skinniest guy you know, then take off 10 pounds. Blonde hair and the dreaded weak chin. Seriously I need a team of people around me at all times so that I never date a weak chinned guy ever again. I haz a pwoblem.

Age: 23

Occupation: Grad Student

Where We Met: Adam 4Adam.com (he had cleverly chosen a straight-on photo, so I didn't notice his intentionally hidden weak chin. I cannot be blamed entirely)

What Happened: Well our first date was super uneventful. I just went over to his place and he made tea and we chatted and I sneezed continuously because of his house cat. Hopeless was a nice enough guy. Very intelligent, good listener, but also very needy. I picked up on this immediately. I'm needy myself so I was tripping over the signs. Talking about the future, telling me how handsome I am (truths, but ploys nonetheless), and begging to see me again. I was literally a week away from moving to a different state, so anything meaningful was the furthest thing from my mind. However, I had gotten myself into this hot mess, I had to follow-through.

A few days before I left he called and begged me to come see him one last time before I moved. I really didn't want to. I had friends to see, packing to do, plans to be made. But he sounded soooo pathetic and I know that needy voice because I've used it 200 times. "Please, just, let's just spend one last night together and in the morning we'll say goodbye." Cut to me in tears sobbing on my knees in the street while his car pulls away. Has happened more than once. No lie. I feel a connection with his plea, so I reluctantly agree.

He tells me to stop by when he gets out of class and we'll watch a movie (Aka he'll try desperately to take my clothes off and get me to say the words "maybe we can make this work somehow.") WE HAVE ALL BEEN THERE. I don't judge him too harshly, in fact his insane infatuation is probably flattering? I like to be needed. I'm a 2 on the enneagram scale. Look it up. It's super enlightening.

When I get to his place that night he tells me that he is dog-sitting and would I mind heading over to his friend's place so we can walk them? Normally I wouldn't care, because I love dogs. But, it's already like 10pm. I just wanted to spend an hour with him, maybe make out and give him a thrill, and then make it to the bar to squeeze in some last hangouts with friends. I resign myself to the fact that the evening belongs to him now. I am committed. This is his gift. Of me. I suddenly feel bad for all the guys I've deemed assholes who must have felt this exact same way while indulging my crazy.

The dogs happen to be a dachshund and a rescue greyhound. The dachshund dashes out of the house the moment he opens the door, barks ferociously at me, and runs away into the night. The dog literally ran away. The metaphor is not lost on me. With the disappearing jingle of his collar so goes any chance I had of having an enjoyable evening. Hopeless tries to remain calm and asks that I stay with the greyhound while he looks for the other. I begin to compose an acoustic jason mraz-ish version of "who let the dogs out?" in my head. It is stellar. The greyhound is gorgeous, if dumb, and is content to let me feed it then snoop around the poorly decorated house. A mannequin wearing a read rain coat in your living room? I can't think of any reason that is a good idea.

Ten minutes later hopeless returns defeated. No dog. Fuck. I have to help him now. His lip is quivering and the responsibility of being in charge and failing had broken him. I see all this happening in his brain and I think "oh great. I know he needs to be comforted now. He will want a hug and a kiss and for me to tell him it will all be ok." Seconds later he wraps his arms around me and I have to suppress a groan. Am I this predictable to guys I date? I see now why I am so single. So so so single. I oblige with the kissing and comforting (albeit half-heartedly) and commence looking for this damn dog.

It is dark out. Poorly lit. And I just want to go home and watch musical theatre majors riff through classics during their recitals on youtube. That is all I want at this point. But here I am calling out in falsetto for a dog who doesn't know me and clearly doesn't want to be home. After about 20 minutes of fruitless searching I am ready to tell this kid to give up and call the owner. But by the grace of God a car drives by and in his headlights we spot the little fucker crossing the street. Hopeless scoops him up and tosses him inside. Mission annoyingly accomplished.

We drive back to his place and in his highly emotional and relieved state he wants to celebrate by sex. Not even this excites me. I just go through the motions and actually become quite frustrated. I want to finish. I want to go home. I don't like this kid. Again flashes of every guy I've hated for doing the exact same thing to me come to my head. I'm a terrible person, but it still doesn't change that I just do not want to be with him. I can only suffer through about 10 minutes of cuddling before I leave. I make a point to get out as quickly as possible before he can break into the rehearsed monologue he has about how awesome I am and how good he thinks we could be for each other. I want out before any messy pleading begins and I am left to have to break this kid's heart with words instead of actions.

I leave and get in my car furious with myself for being that guy I hate. Hopeless deserved a lot better than me. Working out my past issues by agreeing to an obligatory evening was a pretty shitty thing to do.

Gained Points for: Wearing his heart on his sleeve.

Lost Points for: Having skewed expectations.

Mistakes I Made: Thinking that indulging him would be good for both of us.

Chances for Another Date: He still texts and messages me all the time. I'm trying as hard as I can to be polite but clear about my interest. I do not think it will happen.

Overall Grade: D +

Prelude

Sometimes it's just fun to flirt.

Names have been changed to protect the obvious.

Name of Date: The Boy Next Door (not because of any connotations of that phrase, but because he was literally living next door to me for a while)

Date #: (0)

Looks Like: Your typical up and coming hot young actor

Occupation: Actor

Where We Met: My screen door was open one night and he passed by taking out the garbage and we said hello.

What Happened: Ok so what follows isn't a date by any stretch of the imagination, but it is an account of the flirting that took place over one night to lead up to our first date. I just wanna make that clear so that you know what you're getting into. I'm big on clear expectations.

I was coming home from work one evening, it had been a rough day and I was looking forward to hangouts with my other neighbors. We all knew each other and worked together so it was like a sad little campus of a neighborhood trying to relieve dorm life. "Oh man, I can come over and week can bake cookies and watch glee and drink wine and I'll complain about my roomies. Yay!" Seriously this happened like every other night.

So I am coming home and I see TBNT standing outside his place. I had always thought he was super hot, but he was way out of my league. Like he was an empty slot for hosting the oscars and I was Heidi Montag. Shit just ain't gonna happen. But admiring him from afar had been enough for me. Well he sees me walking up to my place and he goes "Oh. I am sooooo tired. and literally collapses on the sidewalk." I make some joke about how pathetic he looks and his arms reach out toward me. A few other neighbors are standing around and offer their hands to lift him, but he knocks them away and again stretches him arms out to me.

I have been chosen.

I walk over and lift him up off the ground, and he is limp in my arms. Head on my shoulder, putting all his weight on me. Ding ding ding ding ding. We have flirtations. He probably thought he was being subtle, but after years of playing the "I'm so tired, i just, could you just hold me, and i'll just, i mean, put my head right here" game I knew exactly what was going on. All suspicions were confirmed when he caressed my face and smiled a coy smile. This guy wanted it. He wanted it all over his personage.

He then asked what I was up to, and I mentioned that a few of us were going to go lay on the beach and watch the stars. He cautiously asked "should i come?" Haha what was I going to say? "No. but you can come to my place instead?" Actually I probably should have said that. It was pretty clear he wanted to come just for me. I felt fancy and wanted which is not something I often feel. His invitation was a given.

At the beach, there were 6 of us total. We lay down close to each other, but never touched. Crazy sexual tension passed through both of us and after 15 minutes of light chatting among the group he announced. "So who is going skinny dipping with me?"

legit.

I was not going to pass that up, so I got up and began undressing. He looked at me and said "Seriously?" and I said "Oh hell yeah. Let's do this." It was at this point I was annoyed that the rest of the group was there. If I'm going to get naked with a boy for the first time there are things I'd prefer to do that I cannot do in front of an audience. I mean I could. But I doubt they'd appreciate it. And if I'm gonna do that I'd like to get paid or at least have better lighting. The moonshine does not a porn set make.

Alas others were present so our nudity was communal and rather than sexual. His body was firm and tight. Nice muscles, phenomenal ass, mouth-watering perfection. Temptation personified. We ran into the water and romped like children. Horny frustrated children. We would wander too close to each other, arms sweeping in hopes of brushing skin. This dangerous game was clearly noticed by everyone else who just chose to not say anything, lest they burst the delicate dance of seduction. P.S. I am using this paragraph as an entry way into erotic novel writing. I am so good at writing sexy sentences. Something with a shirtless man on the cover with a finger raised to the lips as if making a "shhhhh" sound.

After we emerged from the water and dried off and clothed we set off back home to shower and head to a bar. I wasn't too keen on the bar idea but his begging me to come was an offer I couldn't refuse. I showered (alone) at home and hopped in my car. The others were walking there and I felt no need to get sweaty on the humid night. I just wanted to look cute and poofy hair is the opposite of that. I passed them about halfway there and rolled my window down to shout something sassy. TBNT noticed, immediately left the group, hopped in the passenger seat and shouted 'DRIVE!' before anyone else could get in.

Alone at last.

Awkward at last.

What do we say to each other now? "So how was your day?" No. I have just seen him naked and the fog of sexual energy in my car is making it hard for me to focus. When we arrive at the bar it is closed and I am secretly grateful. More time in his presence without being able to touch or kiss or work it out somehow would drive me crazy. Much like the Britney Spears song "drive me crazy." Or the Melissa Joan Hart movie "... Sabrina the Teenage Witch in Paris with the Olson Twins, maybe?" Or something.

When I finally get home I log on to the fb to stalk his profile and within 10 seconds he has fb chatted me

"hey"

"hey"

"fun night tonight"

"yeah"

"you have a great body"

"you too"

Cut to 15 minutes of us telling the other what we like about the other's body. This is basically cyber sex without cameras or mutual masturbation. This is a sophisticated and heightened type of flirting that began mere hours earlier. How far we have come.

I ended the conversation before it could turn sexual or weird and we made a vague promise to hang out with each other the next day.

Gained Points for: Unabashedly pursuing me

Lost Points for: Not knocking on my door that evening after the bar

Mistakes I Made: Being too eager to skinny dip. I shoulda kept it classy

Chances for Another Date: Undeniable

Overall Grade: A

Enough About Me

Sometimes people should learn when to shut up

Names have been changed to protect the tactless.

Name of Date: Rabbi Inappropriate

Date #: 1

Looks Like: David Schwimmer with a rounder face.

Age: 27

Occupation: Governmental nonsense.

Where We Met: Okcupid.com

What Happened: Ok so for some reason I get it in my head that dating Jewish guys is like a really good thing? I don't know why. (See "The Chosen People Shuffle") Maybe because of all the stereotypes I see on TV about them wanting to settle down and having lots of money? I am good with both of those things and would like both of those things to be attributed to my partner. Thus for the remainder of this post, I'm just gonna throw a lot of jew-ey stereotypes in. you know. for fun. SHOFAR!

Rabbi Inappropriate and I met online and he seemed like a very decent, upstanding, and focused dude. I was impressed by his job, living situation and ability to carry on a conversation. If a guy can meet those requirements then he has more than passed the test of gaining a first date. But let's be honest it doesn't take much to pass that test. In fact you have to actively want to fail. Or be ugly.

He made reservations ( i love that. it's so fancy and impressive. major points) at a restaurant that does deconstructed southern food. I was so excited about this place that I went online and drooled over the menu. JEWS LIKE TO EAT! THEY CALL IT GNOSHING I THINK. YIDDISH!

We met up at the place and I was in love. It was so cute and gorgeous and the perfect place to take a date. This guy was gaining major points and he hadn't even shown up yet. I just knew it was going to be a magical (KABBALAH!) evening.

Well he arrives and we're a bit early for our reservation so he suggests a book store across the street. I love those things cause they make me look smart, so I agree. Then I notice his jeans don't really fit. Ok. So it's like the waist is too big, so he is wearing this belt, but then the excess fabric gathers in the front to make this weird concave pouch thing in the crotchal area. You know what I'm talking about. You have to know what I'm talking about. It's unattractive. I know that buying jeans that fit is hard, but leave obvious fashion faux-pas til date 4 or 5. When they are less likely to bother me.

While in the book store he begins conversation. But it's not really normal? It's things like "So I used to live in this neighborhood, but then I was caught in crossfire so I moved." Oh.... I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry you disapprove of my neighborhood and that it scarred you. JEWISH GUILT!

He also asks very heavy questions and then just nods his heads and sighs as I try to answer them as simply as possible. I mean this is date one, it's supposed to go:

job.

siblings.

fav tv shows.

awkward coming out stories.

worst ex stories.

forced flirting.

vague plans for date 2.

it's a well worn path, but it works well in gay culture. i mean, i appreciate a guy who can create fun different casual conversation, but that was definitely not what Rabbi Inappropriate had in mind.

It seemed all he wanted to discuss were topics I definitely did not want to discuss.

When we are seated at the restaurant, I am in love with the place and decide it is my new favorite place ever in the world. I have to come back like tomorrow. It's legit the coolest place I've been taken. I begin to ease up a little and think maybe he just is really interested in me and wants to talk about deep stuff and not superficial shit. But my willingness to indulge him became my downfall. MOSES!

He started with a topic none of us like to talk about, especially when we want to appear attractive: Body Image. He asked why I was so skinny and what I was doing about it. Which then led to the second awkward topic: Eating Habits. I don't know if this bothers you as much as it bothers me, but I feel what people eat is their own business. I mean I hate self-righteous vegans as much as the next guy, but I'd never engage them in conversation about it. Why then does he think it's appropriate to go over my dietary issues? NO MEAT AND CHEESE TOGETHER! I just hate talking about it, it makes me feel self-conscious and like I'm ten and can't take care of myself.

THEN he moves on to family issues. This is veeeeeery personal territory we are treading into. I do not want to explain my very complicated relationship with my mother OR my strained relationship with my sister to essentially a stranger. My deep seated emotional issues that stem from childhood are not first date appropriate! Maybe after we've dated for a few months and I'm feeling upset about something and I open up to you as a means to getting awesome pity sex, then yes, by all means keep prodding.

But the topic that takes the cake: My dead father. He wants to know all the details. How I am dealing with it now. How it has affected my relationship with people, specifically my family. On and on and on and on. He is clueless to my monosyllabic answers. My folded arms. My no eye contact. He just keeps pressing and wants more info like a sadistic therapist. FREUD! (he was Jewish right?)

Anyway the date ends shortly after the bill comes, which he doesn't even pay for and I waste no time walking the other way and into the gay sports bar 2 blocks down the street. I think I am done dating Jewish guys for a while.

Gained Points for: Excellent restaurant choice. The mushroom loaf was phenomenal.

Lost Points for: Being nosy mcmake me feel weird.

Mistakes I Made: Not standing up for myself and directing conversation elsewhere.

Chances for Another Date: I seriously doubt it.

Overall Grade: C -

The Most Dangerous Game

Sometimes a date is a just a pretext gone wrong.

Names have been changed to protected the overly focused.

Name of Date: Sgt. Handsome-Face

Date #: 2

Title of Last Date: Redemption

Amount of Time Between Dates: A week

What Happened: Well after out last date I had to stop myself from going out to buy an engagement ring. This guy fit every single one of my requirements. He was one of those guys that you cannot wait to show off to your friends because you know they'll be impressed and you cannot wait to be "in a relationship" with on fb because you know your ex's will be insanely jealous and spend the evening eating out of ben and jerry's pints. basically i want to lock this down as quickly as humanly possible.

I invited him over for a game night, which I think is a very cute idea. I had scrabble and a deck of cards and he was going to bring cribbage and some dice to teach me bunko. I think that is the name I cannot really remember. He was very into the idea and said he'd pick up a bottle of wine on the way. I could not get over how thoughtful he was. I was tempted to put on knee-pads so that if he showed up with flowers I could just drop right there and thank him properly in my doorway.

But I didn't and he didn't, so it was fine. Proper etiquette says the beejs can wait if there are no flowers.

We begin with scrabble which is literally my favorite game ever. I get way into it and probably care too much about winning. I think it's because it makes me look smart and crafty and I can pull off the effortless air of placing down 7 tiles over a triple word score without batting an eye. Sgt. H-F was digging my mad skills and asked me to put on some music. Thank you Postal Service. Give Up is the best album for any situation, just adjust the volume and you've got everything from great ambiance to sexy makeout music.

The wine he brought was pretty terrible, but I didn't care. I had this gorgeous guy in my place playing a game I love and I am clearly impressing him with my scrabble skills. The night is going so well.

I win the game and he begins to teach me how to play bunko. Which is a dice game. I don't really get the rules but he is way into it and obviously very good at it. I become bored rather quickly and decide that we've had our cute gaming fun, it's time to pull this kid into the bedroom. I lean in to kiss him and he's very responsive. score. Our kissing becomes more passionate and I pull him away from the table and towards my bedroom. I pull off his hoodie and he pulls away and says. "Can we finish the game first?"

uh..... seriously? i only came up with game night in the first place just to get you over here. it was a means to an end, not something i actually saw us doing late into the night. i had quite another activity planned for that.

but he is my guest and for some strange reason invested. so i agree. he puts his hoodie back on and sits back at the table. it was almost like a slap in the face. re-robing. like we were both playing a larger game in which his defenses wouldn't be shattered so easily. His strategy was to keep me busy and prolong the sexing until I was begging for it. Well 2 can play at that game, sir!

Actually I cannot. I will become whiny and demand it and seem pathetic in like 20 minutes.

Which is exactly what happened. After sitting through the rules of cribbage I literally was like. Can we just go make out now? His victorious grin signaled my defeat. But I didn't really care that much because seriously we're both about to get some, so... I could lose that game every time and be fine.

It turns out to be... underwhelming. Another classic case of cannot stay hard but "it's not you, i promise." I fucking hate that bullshit. Is your mind too focused on cribbage to keep a boner for me? I mean I give a STUPENDOUS blow job, no lie, and you can't even keep it up for me? Is THIS the real prize for the loser? Mediocre hook-ups with unfulfilled desires. I am seriously beginning to doubt our compatibility. Until he rises to go to the bathroom and as he emerges and stands nude in the doorway he sighs and says "thank god we both look good naked" before pouncing on me.

faith restored. slightly.

he still doesn't seem to be excited so i decide that if i cannot have a sexual connection with him tonight, we will form an emotional one. I invite him to spend the night. (maybe by 6am your morning wood will tell a different story). He reluctantly agrees, out of guilt i think. Which makes me feel even more desperate and pathetic.

i turn off the light and we cuddle for perhaps 10 minutes before he announces. I really should go. dresses. and exits. i feel like crying. i don't even hear his car pull away for another 20 minutes after he's walked out the door. did he sit there trying to decide whether or not to come back in? or booty calling some other guy who will keep him hard? either way i felt ugly and unwanted.

the next morning he sent me an e-card saying "sorry i bailed." verbatim. that is what it said. it is funny how one moment someone can be so amazing and the next so utterly disappointing.

Gained Points for: complimenting my nude form

Lost Points for: LEAVING!

Mistkaes I Made: Expecting too much on a 2nd date.

Chances for Another Date: It is all up to him at this point.

Overall Grade: D+

Supporting Evidence or (Show Your Work)

Sometimes you get exactly what you're expecting.

Names have been changed to protect the conventional.

Name of Date: Stereotype

Date #: 1

Looks Like: an upstanding young man. with a crew cut.

Age: 30

Occupation: Hairstylist

Where We Met: Adam4Adam (ok i'm a big huge whore. just say it.)

What Happened: So after exchanging a few messages online we trade phone numbers and begin texting. I guess I should preface this by saying, for those of you who don't know, A4A is like 90% used as a hook-up site. Like. Most profile pics are of penises and asses. Not so many faces. I am a classy lady and don't post any of those, in case you care. But every once in a while, while trudging through the insanely desperate and sex obsessed homos, you find some decent dudes. Stereotype seemed to be one of them. Despite the fact he did have a nude picture posted.* (From here on out an * will indicate something stereotypical of gay men and thus his pseudonym) It is very odd to see a guy's dick before you even go out with him. It is liberating slash also very weird and not recommended for anyone you want to take seriously.

We meet up for dinner one night. Well before that I drive to his place so he can take me to dinner. I get to his place and there is a bright rainbow flag hanging from his porch.* I roll my eyes because I don't feel it's necessary to announce to my neighbors that I'm a big ol' mo. I think my cut off jorts, deep v-neck t-shirts and aviator sunglasses are doing that quite nicely. Plus could the reigning gays please come up with something uglier to announce our pride? No matter what your house looks like, it's just gonna look tacky hanging up there.

When I ring the doorbell and he answers he greets me with "heeeeeeeeey*" in a high-pitched and feminine voice.* I try not to cringe. This causes me to look down and I noticed his toe-nails are painted.* Purple.* I literally fixate on that for the next 20 minutes of the date because he has his effing toenails painted. Unless he was playing pretty pretty princess with his adorable nieces right before I arrive, there is no reason a grown man should have any sort of coating on his toenails. I don't think anything has ever caused me to deduct more points as rapidly as I did.

He suggests we go to this new pizza place for dinner. I'm down. Even though I've eaten and end up ordering only a water. But we get into his silver miata* and roll into town. And by town I mean down the road. We aren't living in a big city here, people. On the way he tells me about his salon and how much he loves being a hairstylist.* It's great that he loves his job, but there is no way I could care about someone's hair as much as he does. It's like... hair. It's dead and on your head. I mean I appreciate when it looks good, but this guy is like in love with your mom's hair. seriously.

The restaurant is fine, but the conversation is boring* (this asterisk might confuse some of you, but those of you who know stereotypical gay men, know they are inherently boring and have nothing of value to say). I kind of just want the evening to end so that I don't have to constantly wonder if the waitress is pitying me because my perceived boyfriend has purple toe-nail polish adorned on the foot he's kicking back and forth over his crossed leg.*

After dinner he suggests a bar. Wow. A surprisingly non-homosexual choice. I am almost impressed until he orders a margarita.* I will just sip my beer. At a bar. Like I am supposed to. At this point the conversation literally stops. We don't really have much to say to each other. He is boring. We don't have anything in common. And while he is cute, that is about his only attractive quality. He nurse our respective drinks until it is time to go.

On the drive back to his place he turns on his XM radio to his "favorite station." It is the techno station.* This is "the only kind of music he listens to." Right then a remix of Unwritten by what's her face comes on and I laugh because a. that song/the hills b. it is a techno remix of unwritten. seriously?! He asks why I'm laughing and I explain and he had no clue it was a real song. His knowledge of music is literally limited to techno. It is pathetic and ultimately sad.

When we get back to his place he asks if I'll help him walk his dog. I say yes, because that sounds fun slash an actually interesting thing to do and might prompt actual conversation. He goes to get his dog and it is a minuscule white ball of fluff.* Named Princess.* It is a bichon frise or something equally as annoying and we follow it as prances all over the neighborhood. I am mortified.

After the sad excuse for a dog is back in her cage, I am ready to make my exit, but he stops me and shoves his tongue in my mouth.* Apparently no chemistry doesn't matter. This date was a means to an end; random, nearly anonymous sex.* I should have left, but I need something to salvage my evening so I allow him to bring me back to his bedroom. I am affixing an asterisk to myself here.

We keep making out and clothes come off, and hooking-up commences.* He is on top of me and I feel him rooting around underneath the pillow my head is on, and in a matter of seconds he pulls out lube. Lemme just evaluate this. He planted lube on his bed, within easy access, because this probably happens pretty often for him.* After drenching me in it (Seriously I hate the stuff, it makes you feel so sleazy until you take a shower) he asks me to bareback him.* Not only does he want no strings sex, he wants it unprotected. No. I am done. Gone. Outta there. Out of my phone and out of my life.

Gained Points for: Being cute initially?

Lost points for: See the 19 asterisks above.

Mistakes I Made: Being ok with hooking up with a dude to salvage a boring evening.

Chances for another date: Not gonna happen.

Overall Grade: C-

The Chosen People Shuffle

Sometimes listening is key.

Names have been changed to protect the blockheaded.

Name of Date: Shalom

Date #: 1

Looks Like: A penguin. Short and stout. But that's a teapot isn't it?

Age: 26

Occupation: Public policy? or politics? or something that requires a suit and writing letters? I wasn't paying too much attention.

Where We Met: Connexion.org

What Happened: I had just moved to a new place and was eager to finally start dating. New city, new crop of men, new experiences. I had high hopes that only the best and brightest would be permitted into my company. I'd be discerning about who I spent my time with. I am getting long in the tooth and I can't just wast my time anymore. Seriously in gay years, after you pass 24, you might as well be 40.

I had decided my first date would be with someone older, financially stable and interesting. Who knew that this would translate into someone Jewish? I don't know why my brain hadn't connected these needs and obvious stereotypes before? Plus who is more desperate to settle down? Amiright gentiles?

We spent several evenings talking online and things were going well. He was funny, interesting and seemed serious about dating. Since I had a new outlook on trying to weed out any losers beforehand, I told him outright that planning for a date impresses me. I do not like this lame-ass "oh we'll figure it out" bull shit. NO! Put some thought into it. Make me believe you actually care enough to spend time planning something for me. Let me stress how much I made this clear.

We agree to meet one night after work. I tell him I'll get tickets to a show, if he plans dinner. IF HE PLANS DINNER. He agrees. When I show up to meet him after work his exact phrase was "I thought we could walk around and find someplace around here to eat." Oh hell to the fucking no. I straight up told you I like plans. This is essentially a slap in the face to my needs AND to you listening to what I say.

I also want to mention it's hot as balls outside. Like HOT AS SATAN'S BALLS. So wandering around aimlessly is at the bottom of my list of things I want to be doing. It is underneath wearing carpenter jeans, but above listening to my roommate talk about the kardashians. Yet this is what we do. wander. He is talking incessantly about who knows what, I'm certainly not listening. We head one way and there is a pizza place but it is too crowded. We head another and there is a sushi place, but it is too expensive. We head a third way and there is a 30 minute wait at a bistro.

We have been walking around for 40 minutes. I am drenched in sweat and thoroughly unhappy and all I hear is this dude's high pitched gay voice rambling on about his day or whatever.

We FINALLY end up at Chipotle. Which, ladies and ladies is exactly 20 paces from the place we agreed to meet. It is also chipotle. Not that I don't love chipotle, it is just the worse place for a first date. There is no way to look cute eating and it also says "you are worth an $8 burrito to me, get your own guac."

The line is forever long and when we get our food we have to cram into a bar and awkwardly brush up against people sitting very close to us. But I am inside. I have food. I am going to relax and give him a chance. He doesn't deserve it. He deserves a face full of my sweaty armpit, but I am going to be polite and listen to him now. Cut to every single disparaging remark a person can make about being a jew. Also I just said "a jew." I'm sorry.

He think's its funny to make fun of himself and his culture and the hundreds of stereotypes. But it is not funny. It is uncomfortable. If Yhwh was sitting next to me at the bar he'd have been all "dude. seriously."

When we make it to my part of the date, where I got us theatre tickets, I'm just so happy I don't have to talk to him anymore that I don't even mind that the show is entirely uninteresting. He loves it, which, god bless, but I'm less than impressed. Which is turning out to be the theme of the evening.

I haven't even touched on the fact that he is so far from my physical type! His terrible personality and disregard of my needs are more shocking than his beer belly. I am not liking someone for not shallow reasons! I really am growing up.

When the show ends all I want to do is get home and shower. He suggests a drink and I say "No, I am very tired and don't feel like walking anymore." He says "Oh ok, but we are so close to this garden I love, can I show it to you?" I reluctantly agree and follow him. Even though it is 10pm it is still effing stifling outside. I figure ooo and ahhh at the garden for 5 minutes and then I'm on my way.

After walking 4 blocks, I realize his definition of "close" is not the same as mine. I literally stop and say "how much further is this place?" He confesses that we've got another 15 minutes of walking. I say goodnight, turn around and go home. How dare he ignore my needs for the SECOND time. I'm not fucking Betty Draper!!! Homo is tired. Homo does not want to go anywhere right now! Homo is over you.

Gained Points for: Dropping his whopping $8 for my burrito bowl.

Lost Points for: Making me sweat when a bedroom is not involved.

Mistakes I Made: Trusting he would be able to follow simple directions

Chances for another date: Unless some vial of oil burns for 8 nights again, it is not happening.

Overall Grade: D

Forget Me Not

Sometimes life catches up with you.

Names have been changed to protect the cyclical.

Name of Date: The Introduction

Date #: 2

Title of Last Date: Pre-GAY-Ming

Amount of Time Between Dates: 7 years. No Joke. yeah now you are intrigued. p.s. he is 24 now. not 16. again, i don't rape under-agers.

What Happened: Well.... after our first not-quite-date that sent me into a homo panic and probably set me back a few months in coming out... i calmed down. And 18 months later I accepted that it was indeed boys who made me happy. and that i wanted to kiss. and gave me erections.

Fast forward to the recent present. After having dated (literally) dozens of guys, The Introduction and I found ourselves in the same town again. Years had passed and a lot of growing up and blow jobs had taken place. We were older, wiser, more desperate to find boyfriends. It only seemed natural that we'd give it another try.

He was currently the RD at a very prestigious private school and we decided I'd come over one evening for coffee and a movie. Aka maybe coffee and makeouts.

I arrive and I had forgetten how strikingly handsome he is. Tall, blonde, toned. He is the aryan ideal and I am in awe of his beauty. I can hardly contain my glee as he walks me into his apartment and I think " stupid! pack contact solution, timmy, always pack contact solution!" I guess I'll just have to wake up with crusty eyes. Crusty happy gettin laid eyes. Also: Bloodshot.

We immediately begin catching up and talking about our lives since.. ugh.. high school. Of course we choose only the most impressive stories to tell. I leave out the 3 months of unemployment and 6 months of living with parents after college. And the devestating depressions. And nights spent alone drinking. Those things are not necessary. In fact, one might discourage such story telling.

He actually makes us coffee and it's quite good. Then my phone rings. Ass-Dammit! Normally I'd hit ignore but it is my potential new landlord calling to set up a time for me to come look at the place. I promise him I'll be quick. I am on the phone for 20 minutes. I have to listen to her drone on about her daughter, about her yard sale, about her other freaking tennant's personal lives. I do not need to know that mt neighbor is a sad 50 year old man who's wife left him. I DO NOT NEED TO KNOW THAT! Meanwhile The Introduction has realized this is going to be a while so he puts in a DVD and starts to watch. Ugh. I am the worst. I should have hit ignore. This stupid bitch could have waited til tomorrow.

When I FINALLY get off the phone I apologize profusely and he puts on the show of acting like it was nbd (idk. my bff, jill? anyone?) but it toes was. And I make a mental note to treat him extra nice later on. Bedroomly-wise.

We choose Mean Girls. Which is awesome and a hilarious pick for a date night. I highly recommend it.

OBLIGATORY MEAN GIRLS QUOTE TIME!:

"omg karen, you can't just ask someone why they're white."

"four for you glen coco, you GO glen coco. and none for gretchenweinersbye"

"but you LOVE lady smith black mombazo!"

"you know who's looking fine tonight? seth mozokowski"

SEGMENT OVER!

During the movie we get progressively closer, and then hold hands. and then snuggle. This is all fine and dandy while the movie is still playing but once the credits roll there is the awkward transition into what happens next. If you just go for it, you come off as slutty. If you wait too long the moment is gone and you go home disappointed. Luckily I have mastered the art of this. You pull away slightly. Comment on how great that was. Transition into how hot the lead male is. Look into his eyes and say "kinda like you." Then kiss. WORKS EVERY FREAKING TIME.

The next thing i know I'm pinned to a couch with his tongue in my ear. Thank you, baby Jesus.

We make it to the bedroom and suddenly all the emotion from the past 7 year catches up to me. This was the first guy I had a crush on. The first guy who showed interest in me. The first introduction to anything gay. I cannot sleep with him. It's too huge. ( I mean who knows. He coulda been average, but I'm guessing he was big cause of his height. Another thing i have a 6th sense about). So we just lay there making out and I whisper. "I'm not gonna take your clothes off. I want to respect you."

WHO AM I?!

An adult apparently.

We continue to kiss and pillow talk and make plans about how awesome this is. How right this is. How everything makes sense. 2 hours later I pull myself away from him and he begs me to visit again. I want nothing more. I hate that I'm heading out of town for the weekend or I would see him tomorrow. I drive away happy and certain that life makes all kind of wonderful amazing sense.

Gained Points for: Having the same taste in humor and cuddling that I do.

Lost Points for: Not inviting me to spend a platonic night in each other's arms.

Mistakes I Made: Taking that damn phone call.

Chances for Another Date: Hell to the fuck yeah.

Overall Grade: A-

EPILOGUE: On my way driving home from my trip I called him and asked if he wanted me to stop by. I got the "The other night was great and the superb fulfillment of high school fantasy, but I don't think it would be wise to continue" speech. I hung up, cried briefly and have not spoken to him since. Who knows what will happen 7 years later?

The Bad Kind of Role Playing

Sometimes you can pinpoint the exact moment it's over... oh and sometimes I change the layout of my blog.

Names have been changed to protect the textbook geeky.

Name of Date: Transition

Date #:4

Title of Last Date: Annnnnd.... I'm Back!

Amount of Time Between Dates: A month roughly

What Happened: I'm leaving out our two in between dates because nothing really happened. I mean they were your basic dinner, conversation, goodnight kiss dates. Nothing past first base. Nothing you perverts or schadenfreude enthusiasts would care to read about.

Things have been going well with Transition, although I'm unsure as to whether or not I feel a certain spark with him. He's kind, attentive, adores me, etc. I just... to be honest... don't feel like ripping his clothes off. That's a big part of finding a mate right? I mean judge all you want or think me insanely shallow but if the sexual chemistry is off, then there is no passion. What more is he then a great friend who you cuddle with then wait 'til he leaves so you can jerk it to good porn? amiright?

BUT I was trying this new thing where I didn't write him off. I thought with time and prolonged exposure maybe he'd give me some boners? Who knows? He might be one of those learn to find attractive types.

So one weekend I'm out visiting him at his place and he tells me that Sunday is the day for him to go hang out with his closest friends and.... get ready... are you ready?... seriously are you sitting down?.... this is not a joke.... like for real-real.... sigh.... play dungeons and dragons.

I'll give you a moment.

Now my initial reaction is one of acceptance. It is not anything I know about. It is not a culture with which I am familiar. Perhaps these cloaked horned social outcasts are nice people. Perhaps they provide muffins. PERHAPS the game is actually interesting and devastatingly sad-sounding. I was all about giving it a chance. So I told him there was no need for him to cancel, that I'd be happy to tag along and see what this was all about.

I just dug my own grave. Well not mine. His. Well not his. Our relationship's.

When we arrive, it is literally everything you think out of "I Had No Friends in High School Weekly." The apartment is a sty. There is crap everywhere. Action figures and strategy books line the walls. I suddenly realize I am not in the house of a person who enjoys a game occasionally. I am in the den of an obsessive dungeon master who probably has we dreams about 12-sided dice. Or gnomes. Or whatever the fuck is in this game.

What is worse. These people. This "man" and this "woman" are married. Society has deemed them fit enough to legally wed, yet denies gay people the same sad existence. AND WHAT IS WORSE; They have a baby. I don't even remember her name but it was probably princess dark crystal marie or something equally terrifying. Part of me wants to steal this baby and take her to a land where she'll learn appropriate social behavior and develop at a normal pace. But I'm not ready to be a single father. Poor thing will just have to wear her duct tape dress to the prom to mask her feelings of shame.

ALSO I am in judging heaven. So I'm torn between wanting to flee and taking copious notes.

The game begins. I didn't think things could be so simultaneously outrageous and boring. I have never witnessed this game before but literally its army men on a piece of graph paper. I imagined an elaborate board game set up. Thirteen Dead End Drive anyone? But no. Nothing so opulent. The game consists of one person who made up some outrageous story and then a bunch of dice rolling. THAT IS IT. The pieces don't even really move that much. My Sunday afternoon is sitting around a table with a bunch of slobs stuffing their faces with doritos and mountain dew while a baby cries in the background and my soul aches to watch TLC because at least the Duggars are cray-cray in a captivating way.

I look over at Transition and he is so into it. He's into it like nothing else. He doesn't even put this much effort into trying to get into my pants. The only way I could be into this game is if I knew the prize involved something with washboard abs.

HOURS LATER. They pause. The game has progressed marginally due to insufficient armor or clogged arteries. I cannot remember which. My eyes have rolled past the point of normal rolling and must be held into place. Transition breaks his focus and notices I am miserable. The sun has set and he takes me home. We make a hurried exit and I have never felt more grateful to leave a place.

This game ruins lives.

I tried to be accepting but it was seriously the most atrocious day of my life. Anyone involved in that is getting the ax.

Gained Points For: Noticing my pain and rescuing me.

Lost Points For: Actually caring about D&D

Mistakes I Made: Stepping foot inside that house. Thank goodness I had the sense enough to not ask them to teach me how to play

Chances for Another Date: I ended things with him shortly after

Overall Grade: F

This blog was by no means meant to be offensive to D&D players. I am sure you all are lovely people. I just... don't. get. it.

Dude, Where's My Escape Car?

Sometimes I should put my foot down

Names have been changed to protect well-intentioned.

Name of Date: Kurosawa

Date #: 2

Title of Last Date: Mixed Media

Amount of Time Between Dates: 1 week

What Happened: After a surprisingly good date with a guy with a weak chin (which is like #3 on my list of things I find the least attractive) I was pretty eager to go out with Kurosawa again. I mean his place with essentially a hipster's frat house. But I could look past the pretentious movie posters and skinny jeans strewn about into his soul. His caring and affectionate soul. Oh I had to look past that weak chin too. That took more effort.

Well he called me up and said that movie we were meant to go see was playing in a city 90 minutes away on 3-D IMAX and he and his friends were going. He asked if I wanted to join. Oh and also they'd be spending the night there.

Let me just go ahead and disect everything wrong with that invitation:

a. if i'm driving 90 minutes anywhere its going to be for an H&M or a Lady Gaga Concert or Alice Ripley on tour with N2N. It is not going to be for a movie I would watch with regular-D right down the street. I would also drive that far for anything involving Tyra Banks.

b. 3-D Imax does not impress me. Sometimes the biggest things are pretty to marvel at but then after the first 30 seconds it's just uncomfortable. BADA-BING!

c. your friends? really?! date #2 and you expect me to not only meet your "friends" but spend and elongated period of time with them. there is no chance for escape. no text message rescue from my bff. just stuck in a distant city with people who probably don't want me there in the first place. i mean think of it from their perspective: they has massive film school boners over this movie and i'm there giving their buddy a real one which distracts him from their high fives and dork talk. i can pretty much guarantee my presence was not welcome.

d. do you really want our first night spent together to be on some rando's futon with 6 other people in the room? i mean it's not even a dolphin-borne beej futon for goodness sake! (love you, lauren ;)) not only can we not make out, but we have to actively act like we don't want to so we don't awkward-ize this sitch in front of your (i'm guessing) sex-life-less friends.

DECONSTRUCTION DONE!

He actually has to convince me pretty hard that it's a good idea for me to attend. I sigh and hem and haw and try to tell him I don't want to be there, but homo loves attention and the promise of being "owed one" got me to say yes.

When I get to his place we are immediately off to pick up his "friends." I am introduced to them and for the life of me I cannot remember a single one of their faces, let alone their names. They were two different hetero couples and a lone single straight dude. This made me feel worse. Kurosawa could have at least been this guy's friend so he didn't have to feel like the loser he was. But instead brings me to add to the number of couples and alone-ness he must feel. He probably cried himself to sleep that night.

The trip there was agonizing. Even though we took two cars, 7th wheel had to come in the car with Kurosawa and I and another couple. I don't remember why. I was crammed in the backseat being largely ignored while they discussed film stuff and how awesome this movie was going to be. The only way this movie could have lived up to it's hype and this trip for me is if it was just a parade of 3-D penises interspersed with performances from Glee. THE ONLY WAY!

It was not. In fact I kind of hated it. In fact I did hate it. In fact Kurosawa could tell.

This was not turning out to be the awesome road-trip with his new man that he had planned. I tried to warn him of this but delusions of grandeur or the promise of a handj later on kept him optomistic.

After the movie one of his gaggle of geeks decided drinks were a good idea. YES! YES THANK YOU TAKE ME THERE NOW PLEASE. We go to some local bar and by divine intervention the drink special that night was $4 Long Island Iced Teas. It was God saying "oh this has been rough, just get sloppy and embarrass yourself, k?"

I have three. At this point I love everyone. I love his friends. I love him. I am not caring about anything. I distinctly remember talking to one of the females and saying "We haven't had sex yet, but I'm worried he has a tiny penis." WHO DOES THAT?!? This drunk classy guy does. I always keep it real. I always keep it totes inappropes. Oh and she confirmed he didn't. They had gone skinny dipping and she assured me I'd be pleased. I liked her. She knew what mattered.

When we make it back to this kid's place to sleep Kurosawa immediately claims the pull-out sofa for us. I felt like a queen. It was so romantic and chivalrous that drunk me wanted to take my clothes off right there. I was seriously considering some discreet way we could do it when he said "oh hey. we're gonna go get high, do you mind?"

Now readers. At this point in my life marijuana terrified me. It was illegal and unknown and the devil. and the devil's babies. I was horrified he smoked pot. It sobered me up quickly and I told him he could do what he wanted all the while knowing his hopes of getting any were slowly fading away. I was such a prude! Oh also at this point in my life I'd also only ever hooked up with 2 other guys so sex was a big deal too. YES THERE WAS A TIME IN MY LIFE I WAS NOT SLUTTY McHO-FACE.

He smoked. I was appalled and was in bed by the time he came inside. He crawled in next to me and tried to be the big spoon. I let him, but didn't offer any affection back. Notice how passive-aggressive I am. I am obviously handling this the was proper white gay boys are supposed to; by saying one thing and acting another. Thank you, Emily Gilmore, for the WASP lessons. Much love.

We fell asleep. No sex. He knew not to even rub his boner up against me.

The next morning I had the worst hangover ever. All I wanted to do was get home and shower. Buuuuuut his friends had other ideas. They wanted to go out to breakfast. Ugh this moment is what I hated the most, when the downright annoyance and uncomfortableness of one person in the party is overshadowed by a group mentality to go do something. Where was my escape route? Kurosawa was no help. Hollandaise sauce was calling his name. We waited forever. The service was terrible. My headache pounded. I wanted to go home.

When we FINALLY got on the road (around noon) I was so pissy that I literally crossed my arms and pouted in the backseat. Then I fell asleep. I am five.

When I woke up my head was in Kurosawa's lap and he was stroking my hair. He said "hey sleepy head, you'll be home in a few minutes." I smiled thankful this whole ordeal was over.

Gained Points For: wanting to show me off? under different circumstances I like being a trophy date.

Lost Points For: i think the thing that annoyed me the most was breakfast the next morning. I was more pissed about that than anything else.

Mistakes I Made: judging him for pot smoking. i'm not as uptight anymore.

Chances for Another Date: In our city and alone, most def. Plus I was told he was hung... so.... I'mma need confirmation

Overall Grade: D. LITeas saved it from failing.

Cock Block

Sometimes a guy cannot take a hint.

Names have been changed to protect the insanely patient.

Name of Date: The Beard

Date #: 1

Looks Like: Your typical 5'5" twink. Except he had a full beard, so he was what we gayz call an "otter." I am not even kidding. There is a term for that.

Age: 18

Occupation: Student

Where We Met: Adam4Adam. I will give you a minute to decide whether that is trashier than Craigslist. It's really your call.

What Happened: SO! I am very anxious one night to go out and do something. I call up my friend Nick to see if he wants to chill. I don't get a response so I throw my phone on the coffee table and act like my boredom is his fault. Because clearly everyone should be on call to entertain me at a moment's notice.

I log onto A4A to kill some time and see this profile of this pretty cute dude so we begin chatting. He tells me he is a student at a local college studying... oh who the hell cares he's cute. He's adorbs and can maintain a conversation. Apparently my search for prince charming has really awesome standards. "breathing? check. hot? check. ok you pass, onto round two." I'm such a grown-up.

I suggest we meet up and he likes that idea. The plan is to go to this karaoke place and just kind of make fools of ourselves. As I am walking out the door Nick calls and I tell him I just made plans to go to this karaoke bar. He chimes in "sounds like fun! i'll be there in 15." Uhhhh... that was not an invite. That was me politely telling you that you are too late. You just invited yourself along on my first date with The Beard.

Which

If I may

In his profile pics on the site, he did not have a beard. I was unaware of it's presence until he strolled up to me at the lounge. I didn't recognize him for a second. This wasn't a forgot to shave for a week beard, this was a grizzly, intense, full-out beard. Shouldn't you mention that to someone? Isn't there some kind of etiquette about saying "oh hey dude, btws i've got this insane facial hair thing going on now." I just feel its common courtesy. Although there are plenty of old creepers running around with pictures of them 20 years ago that don't say anything either. This was a forgivable offense.

Anyway on my way to the place, I am trying to figure out how to make it clear to Nick that he is unwelcome without being explicit about it and how to show The Beard that this was not at all what I had in mind.

When I get there (and get over the initial shock of seeing his face) I can tell he is a little put off by having someone else there. To the point where he doesn't want to sing. Fuck. This was the whole point, to be silly and have a good time. Nick is ridiculous and oblivious and pulls me up to sing every single duet in the book. I'm sorry but "Islands in the Stream" does not allow me to belt or riff. Why the hell is it even an option? That's why I like karaoke: It is my own private American Idol. I will conduct with my hand and writhe around the stage like [insert pop diva here] until my heart is content. Pretty much anything by Celine or Whitney is an excellent choice.

I am trying to make eye contact with The Beard the whole time. My eyes are pleading "please forgive me and this moron next to me I would much rather be talking to you or taking your clothes off but still respecting you maybe we leave your clothes on for now if you're not ok or if you are i am down for that but i'm not a slut you look really cute." Its a really difficult look but I've perfected it and I think he got the message because the look back I got was "oh hey yeah that guy is a moron i think i would like to see you naked too maybe wrap this up already?"

Which I do. I pay and say "time to call it a night."

Out in the parking lot we are saying our goodbyes and The Beard says ALL TOO LOUDLY

"hey lets go grab some food"

this statement is meant for me, but effing Nick heard it and said "Thats a great idea!!!" Seriously? Can you not be here? I want to begin my woo-ing of this guy but you are all up ins the way. LEAVE!

The drive to applebee's (where we decided to eat) was excruciating. The Beard and I are texting back and forth about the best way to ditch Lord Third Wheel of Annoying-ton. We can't come up with anything better than being honest and I don't want to hurt his feelings. I mean it was my first phone call that initiated this evening. If I had only logged onto that desperate guy site first, we'd all be ok.

At applebee's all I want to do is scream. Nick starts in on this philosophical debate about some bull shit which I can see is pissing off The Beard. He really has no clue what he's talking about or what he is saying and its probably the worst thing ever in the world times five thousand. And this is the statement I use to diffuse that sitch. "So isn't Glee awesome?" Legit. That is Legit what I said. Non-sequitur. And it saved the evening. I harnessed the power of the Glee and it made life better for everyone. Awkward topic left behind just like all us heathens and Fox News pundits after the rapture.

I wanted to slyly ask The Beard back to my place but there was absolutely no time to do it. The 3 of us left and while I wanted to strangle Nick, it made for a very interesting and memorable first date.

Gained Points for: Sticking with it. He was a champ

Lost points for: Not being more subtle with the food invite, which upon reflection probably wasn't about food anyway. Oh and the beard. I really wasn't the biggest fan.

Mistakes I Made: Not being clearer with Nick

Chances for Another Date: Pretty good. I think sans the tag-along we'd be good.

Overall Grade: C+

"Date"

Sometimes the line gets blurry.

Names have been changed to protect the tempting.

Name of Date: Trouble
Date #: 1
Looks Like: A super cute pocket gay that you just can't help but blush around
Age: 20
Occupation: Intern
Where We Met: At work. He was a co-worker. Cue necktie porn festish music.
What Happened: So... a mutual co-worker was having a birthday bash at a pretty swanky bar. I planned on dressing in my sexiest clothes and getting Ke$ha level trashy. Ugh I hate her so much. Go. Away.

I had seen Trouble around a few times and kept quiet because thats what you do when you work with someone who's adorable level is off the charts. Flirting at the workplace is like some huge no-no or something. I didn't want to be in the middle of some sezzual harrasment proceedings simply cause I told some guy I wanna lick his face. That is like, the sweetest compliment ever, be tee dubs, soooo he should be flattered. Also maybe don't have such a lickable face. He was asking for it.

Also he had a boyfriend. OFF-LIMITS.

Also I had was seeing someone at the time. EVEN MORE OFF-LIMITS-ER.

So because of those reasons we kept out interaction professional. Because I am classy. Right? Anyone? ANYONE?

Anyway we are at the party and I order a Long Island Iced Tea.... (oh .... see.... I get why no one answered the questions above. Yep. Makes sense now. ) and proceed to get trashed. I do everything drunk me does:

a. lunge
b. wobble
c. talk loudly
d. get extremely close to people
e. lunge more
f. sing
g. be too tired to keep my eyes open
h. flirt with the cutest thing nearest me... which happened to be Trouble.

It began innocently enough with mutual confessions of how cute the other person was. Thats how everything starts isn't it? And it always feels like some massive dam is breaking and allowing honesty to pour through. As if telling someone they are pretty is the hardest thing ever. Um we all like to be told we are pretty. No one is going to be offended by that. Especially gays. Compliments on our appearance is like Justin Beiber to 12 year old girls; it's what gives us the will to live.

Then it progresses to leg pats that begin at the knee and work their way up the thigh. The lingering hugs with wandering fingers along the back. Basically if neither of us were attached this would be the first recipie in the drunken hook-up cook book. Three easy ingredients! Two horny homos and alchohol. Mix together for 20 minutes and serve with lube.

Unfortunately (Fortunately?) we were both involved. and we knew it. which made the flirting sooooo much more intense. Its total psychology 101. Tell me I cannot have something and it is the only thing I want time a million. I suddenly cannot get this guy out of my head and its bad news bears. I need to get away from him. Yet drunk me does the opposite of good decision making. Drunk me gets into the back seat of a car with him and puts my head in his lap. Drunk me pulls him into my apartment and into my bed. Drunk me starts spooning with him. Drunk me needs to not be drunk anymore or he's going to make a terrible mistake.

LUCKILY my friend saw all this happening and pulled Trouble out of bed with me. I am so drunk/tired I don't even fight it. Once I realize what is happening I am all to eager to have him gone. I feel weird and cheap and pray a million thanks that nothing happened. We should all be so lucky to have a friend who steps in when our brain is failing. I have several of these and this is not the first time I've been drunkenly pulled out of a bad sitch. Thank you, to all of you for being my designated life choice makers.

The next day at work it was super awkward. Um obvi? I tried to avoid him all day long. I didn't want to have to explain myself or apologize. I don't do well when I have to admit I'm flawed, especially when its not in jest. Like on here I can call myself a trashy ho a hundred times and its hilarious, but if I had to seriously admit it to you, I would cry. I would cry slutty tears of std's. See?

Trouble, however, has different plans. He corners me and thanks me for last night. Uh? You're welcome? I guess. I mean if you want to cheat on your boyfriend thats your choice. I don't judge you. (Yes I do). But he means he had fun hanging out with me and that we should hang out sober when there is no danger of anything happening. I want to point out to him that there will always be danger at this point. We nearly crossed a line and being drunk wasn't the only reason. Mutual attraction doesn't disappear. I want to tell him its best if we stay acquaintances. But he thinks I'm cute. So I agree to go to the beach with him after work. DAMMIT.

This is when our "date" begins. We walk along the beach and talk about our lives and respective significant others. He actually is a really decent guy and nice to be around, but I am already feeling guilty. I know I shouldn't be out here with him. I finally blurt it all out about how confusing/difficult this is and he agrees. But neither of us are brave enough to just walk away. We sit on the lifeguard stand and stare out at the water clueless. Not touching. Just hoping the other will have a solution that saves us from humilation and hurting the guys we are with.

Wow it just got real for a hot minute.

Trouble and I head home without any solution and I immediately call my guy and am comforted by his voice. I know I could never cheat on him and that Trouble was just a test which I passed, but barely.

Gained Points for: Wanting to talk it through. I am not the best at being honest.

Lost Points for: Thinking there was a solution or compromise? Um we CANNOT do each other. There is no compromise there.

Mistakes I Made: Basically everything. If I'm getting drunk I need to be the only gay person around or be forced to wear an electric collar.

Chances for another date: If I suddenly got dumped and needed a re-bound... yes.

Overall Grade: Incomplete. Failure to be a real date.

Redemption

Sometimes you get a second chance.

Names have been changed to protect the near perfect.

Name of Date: Sgt. Handsome-Face

Date #:1

Looks Like: Jonathan Groff. For real-real.

Age: 25

Occupation: Grad Student

Where We Met: So Halloween is not the satantic holiday Fox News wants you to believe it is. In fact it is nothing more than a chance for gay men to dress slutty and party and wear glitter. Not that we need a day designated to do this, but its a chance for the rest of the nation to turn, look at us sans judgement and golf clap while mouthing "good for you. good for you."

This particular Holler-ween I went as cupid which mean sexy white jeans, no shirt, a heart painted on my chest, wings and a tiny bow and arrow. I looked like sex. No joke. I went out to the club and i'm dancing/drinking it up with my homos and I see Sgt. Handsome-Face. It was like the room froze and a spotlight shown down upon him. I am never the one to approach someone at a club but I was drawn in by his curly hair. He wasn't wearing a costume so I looked like the queen of sodomy town while he appeared cool and collected. I screeched my name and how cute he was and he talked for a minute. He said he was gonna finish his drink and then join me on the dance floor. However, 15 minutes later I see him chatting it up with some random hunk and I knew I was as good as forgotten. Never leave the hottest guy alone at the club. Its gay commandment #8. #1 is "You shall have no God other than me - Lady Gaga"

I thought all was lost until 3 days later Sgt. H-F messaged me on okcupid and asked me out. He apparently had no recollection of my drunken fairy flirting and thought my normal pictures were cute enough to warrant contact. I had been given a 2nd chance! The gay gods forgave my prancing and let the gift of hotness want to go on a date with me! I would be sure to not mention to him that we had met previously lest he renege on all dating offers.

What Happened: We agreed to meet at a local pub. I am usually against breeder bars but this one I actually like so I was impressed by his choice. I arrived and as I'm pulling in he texts me "I'm gonna be a few minutes late." I told him I didn't mind and decided to just order a beer and what for him. A few minutes turns into 10, to turns into 20, 20 turns into 30. I am beginning to panic at this point. I have been stood up. This guy is the worst asshole on the planet.

I decide that I'll wait until he gets there, say hello and then something sassy like "no one make me wait for them" and then walk out. I was super livid and also very insecure. Perhaps he had figured out who I was too late and then decided to back out? After 40 minutes of waiting he swaggers in looking fuh-reaking gorgeous. All my anger melts away. Apparently being pretty makes me immediately forgive you of all wrong-doing. Probs explains why I date hot assholes way longer than I need to.

So he joins me at the bar and apologizes for being tardy because he was playing cribbage with his parents. HOW CAN I BE MAD AT HIM FOR THAT?! If its an excuse its an adorable one. So we have a lovely conversation where he tells me he used to be a rugby player. I'm just gonna give you a minute to process that and everything that means.... ready? ok. He did americorp for a year and is taking some time off before going to grad school for international relations. plus he is a Christan.

hot. check.

athletic. check.

smart. check.

gonna make money. check.

religious. check.

uh folks i think we have a very real candidate for prince charming on our hands! and your prize consists of me in bed doing whatever you ask. you will be judged by a panel of experts led by tyra banks. she will growl.

So we chat for like an hour and its amazing. I do not want the date to end so I suggest the beach. He readily agrees and we head out there for some moonlit walking. When he holds my hand I feel like a very giddy 18 year old twink about to do porn for the very first time. We sit on the beach and cuddle while he plays music from his iphone. Its a 21st century romantic moment.

I make some very heavy suggestive comment about kissing him and he makes one back and we begin the makeouts. SCORE! I don't think the evening could have been more perfect if dolphins had risen out of the oceans and offered us a futon for comfortable beejs. But that only happens like every 5 times I got to the beach.

After making out I say "i'm not suggesting anything, and there are no expectations, but would you like to go back to my place?" ok you may think I'm being slutty but here is the real deal. When you meet a guy who fits everything you are looking for, you gotta lock that shit down. There was no way I was letting him get away without showing him everything I had to offer and some of my best qualities happen to arise when there are no clothes on. Get it?

So we make it back to my place and fall down on the bed. Its once of the most intense makeout sessions I've ever experienced. I try to take off his shirt, but he won't let me. I try to undo his belt, but he won't let me. He finally comes up for air and says "I think, for propriety's sake I should leave." and with that we know he is a gentleman too. This guy could not get any better. Then he adds. "you have no idea how much I want to do you right now, but lets save that." Um EVEN BETTER. He is a horny gentleman. And sex is vaguely promised for an upcoming future date.

When he leaves I am ecstatic and begin picking out our wedding colors.

Gained Points for: Being phenomenal

Lost Points for: Being late, but he quickly regained those.

Mistakes I Made: Assuming I needed sex to keep him interested. Apparently I'm cute and interesting enough myself. who knew? yay self-esteem!

Chances for Another Date: Uh. 100% time a billion

Overall Grade: A