New York

Sunday, November 24th, 2013 (Part 1)

I have my first date this week. My first two dates, actually. Drinks tomorrow night and then on Tuesday, dinner with a second guy. Don’t worry, there aren’t any fun and amazing stories behind meeting these two guys. Not yet, at least. They’re OkCupid dates – the only place where I can seem to find guys who might be interested in me. And even then it’s a slog to find them.

I have a theory about OkCupid guys (and I think it applies to guys in general). Take attractiveness and put it on a scale of one to ten, ten being the most attractive model types and one those sad ogres who shouldn’t be let out in broad daylight. (Thankfully, there aren’t many of those ones, especially not in the gay world. We at least have the wherewithal to pull ourselves up to a two or three…with the right products and styling.) Now you and I fall solidly in the six to eight range, allowing for fluctuations based on good or bad hair days, acne breakouts, the number of gym days in the previous week. In general, we are attracted to other six to eights. Nines and tens are probably too pretty for us. They know they’re incredibly good looking and usually act like douches. And they don’t go after other guys; enough guys flock to them that they have the pick of the litter. So those guys are disqualified. Then there are the five and belows. They’re five and below for a reason. They’re in the bottom fifty percent, and we both can do better than average, or below average. Which leaves us with the six to eights, those desirable guys which I’d estimate make up a good thirty-five percent of the gay population.

The problem, and here’s where my theory comes in, is that these six to eights who we want to talk to, they’re usually pussies when it comes to dating. They don’t reach out to you ever – at a bar, online, not anywhere. And it’s so frustrating. In my first month or so on OkCupid, I’ve had plenty of guys message me, but not a single one that I’ve found attractive. Zero. How depressing is that? All five and belows. Which begins to get insulting because after a bit it makes me start to think that maybe I’m a five and below. Maybe I’m below average on the attractiveness scale and everything I’ve ever been told is a lie.

But then I hear back from someone that I’ve messaged, a six to eight, and my theory is reinforced. I am in their range! But they’re shy so I have to do all the initial work.

Bullshit is what I think of that. I don’t think I’ve ever been on a date or one-night stand or whatever where I wasn’t the initiator. One of these days I’d like to be the lazy one and have everyone come to me. (And by everyone, I mean guys I’d actually want to date. I’ve had my share of unattractive guys come up and talk to me at bars, as I’m sure you have, too. Just as important as initiating, you’ve got to be able to ruthlessly pull that plug.)

So I have my first two post-you dates coming up. Michael and Karl – both guys that I reached out to first on OkCupid. They’re very different from each other and different from you. I don’t know if you knew this, but you were not my usual type. Which I think is a good testament to how much I liked you. I’ve always gone for dark-featured men, usually skinnier than me and shorter. You were my height, blonde, pale and muscular. You were the first blonde I ever dated. (As long as you don’t count my high school girlfriend who I “dated” the summer after my junior year. She had long blonde hair. And we never even kissed. Someone was gay and didn’t know it yet.) Blonde and pale and muscular worked on you, though. It worked on me, at least.

Now that I’m trying to date again, I’m looking to expand my scope. Michael (I know, this’ll make five Michael’s, but I didn’t even know that until after we’d been talking for a while), my Monday date, is my age, tall, skinny, peroxided hair, a waiter. I know it might not seem like a good combination, but it works on him. He’s cute. And I’m not looking for my soul mate right now. I’m letting myself explore. I’m trying not to disqualify guys based on silly things like their jobs, or lack of holding a stable one.

Then I’m having dinner with Karl on Tuesday night. Karl is like 5’10”, the oldest guy I’ve been on a date with at twenty-nine, dark hair with an attractive amount of stubble. Good cheek bones. My type to a tee, minus the twenty-nine bit. I almost never date guys older than me. He works in the theater in casting and seems like an interesting enough guy. Of the two, he seems like the most promising. This weekend my friends told me that it’s a good thing to have Michael first. Good to get a bit of practice in before going out with the more promising guy.

 

Saturday, November 9th, 2013 (Part 1)

So last night was interesting. I would say I had a first, but actually it was a second. Would that make it a trend now? God, I hope not.

I was out at my new favorite gay bar, The Boiler Room — favorite because drinks are super cheap and because it’s in the East Village where I know I won’t run into you. I was there with Jeremy and his friend Kyle. I’ve met Kyle a couple of times. He’s fun. Cute. Works in fashion. The three of us were all scoping out the boys, trying to find someone worth talking to and maybe taking home.

Believe it or not, I started talking to someone. He was this super tall guy (like two or three inches taller than me), so I was surprised I took a liking to him.

(If there’s one thing that I am NOT into, it’s a tall guy. You were just about the same height as me, so it was fine. But with taller guys I always think that I’m tall enough as is. I don’t need someone even taller looking down on me. And with really really tall guys they always seem to have something a little off-putting about their look. Either they’re super-skinny, looking like a scarecrow with these really thin and long arms and legs, or their normal-sized features don’t quite fit their over-sized bodies. Obviously there are exceptions to this. But when it comes to my own personal taste, I just don’t like being shorter than a guy.)

So this guy was tall and skinny. Also kind of pasty. He was cute, though. At law school. We actually figured out that he’s grown up with a girl I had dated for like a week back in college. So we had that awkward connection. His tall problem — he had little baby teeth. Like I said, something just didn’t quite fit his over-sized body.

But still, I was into him. It was for one night. And with the liquor in my system and the foggy, dark atmosphere of the bar, I really didn’t care or notice.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t the only one who thought this guy was cute. At some point I went to the bar to get a drink and turned back around to find my guy talking to Jeremy. My friend had stolen my man for the night.

Which actually didn’t make me that mad. So you know that I wasn’t really that interested in the guy. Let Jeremy deal with those baby teeth. Good luck to him.

With Jeremy taking my guy, I decided to take it easy for the night and started chatting with his friend, Kyle.

 

One problem with Boiler Room is that, since the drinks are so cheap, I almost always stay until closing time. So when 4AM rolled around, I was still there, exhausted, drunk and ready to go home. Jeremy had already left with my former-guy, but I wasn’t alone. Kyle was still there. And as we left the bar, both drunk and chattering away, we decided to go home together.

This is what I meant when I said that this was a second for me. The second time I’d gone home with a friend of a friend.

 

 

Sunday, October 27th, 2013 (Part 2)

On the day of the party, I had volunteered to help Amber set up her apartment beforehand. So I headed down early on the bus. As I rode the bus down I thought about Andy, the guy I’d hooked up with a couple of years ago and who I had run into randomly the weekend before. I wanted to see him again but had waited all week to ask him out.

Anxiously, I typed a message to him, asking him if he wanted to get drinks sometime, and sent it off into the ether, stowing my phone so I wouldn’t have to see his response (or lack thereof).

I’m so bad about this. I always get so anxious when I text boys. And I refuse to look at my phone, turning it on silent so that I won’t know if a message has come or not. It’s gives me a reason to stay hopeful, even though I’m super pessimistic when it comes to guys and them liking me back.  Like if the phone has its ringer on, I’ll know that there hasn’t been a response. But with it on silent, I can stay optimistic and check after an hour or so. It’s silly, I know. But it helps somehow. (I’ve always been this way. It’s not something new since you broke up with me, so don’t worry that you’ve broken my self-confidence.)

When I got to Amber’s, I hadn’t gotten a reply from Andy. I figured that I’d give it some time. I was really anxious about it. (Like when was the last time that I’d asked someone out for drinks? You? more than a year and a half ago?) I had plenty to do to keep myself occupied, though.

Amber has this amazing (and expensive) carpet that she wasn’t about to have people spilling on, so that was our first order of business. We rolled it up and stowed it in Scott’s room. Scott was out of town, so we were just going to let his room be a closet of sorts for the evening. We threw the rug in there and then positioned a coat rack in front of his closed door, hoping that would dissuade anyone from going in there.

Amber, the super crafty and design-y girl that she is, had bought a bunch of Halloween decorations and we started hanging those up. She’d also decided to put up a photo backdrop for all of us to take pictures in front of. She had this heavy purple curtain that we covered with fake cobwebs and a plush spider. It ended up looking great, another of Amber’s brilliant decorating ideas.  We took turns posing in front of it to make sure that it turned out alright.

After about an hour, the apartment was set up and looked amazing. Amber and I started putting on our costumes. She was an amazing Carmen Miranda and I looked pretty sickening in my Robyn get-up. We took pictures and started drinking and shortly after people began arriving.

It was all of our friends, and some of Amber’s friends who I didn’t know. But that didn’t matter. It was probably the best Halloween party I’ve ever been to.

At some point after the party had started, I checked my phone again. Still no response from Andy. This was hours after I had sent the initial text. I was starting to realize that Andy was a lost cause. I poured myself another drink and tried to put my disappointment behind me.

At about that time David arrived with a friend of his and Amber’s who I hadn’t met. I saw him out of the corner of my eye and got a little jolt of excitement. I was in the middle of a conversation, though, and figured that I’d talk to him later in the night.

As the party continued, it all kind of blurred together — a whirlwind of colors and lights and costumes. It got to be hot as hell in Amber’s apartment, all of those bodies creating this unbearable heat. I camped out in the kitchen where there was an open window and tried my best to stay cool as I drank and drank and drank. The liquor was really starting to go to my head. There was a haziness around everything. The dim lighting, the heat, my drunken self, everyone in costumes…there was an unreality to it all. I kept coming in and out of memory, remembering faces but never conversations.

And then, as if it had happened in the blink of an eye, the party began winding down. People were starting to head out. I still hadn’t heard back from Andy, and I hadn’t spoken to David. He’d disappeared shortly after arriving, and I figured that he must have left for another party without me noticing. But then, he and the friend he’d come with emerged from Scott’s closed off room. Apparently they’d been camped out in there for most of the night talking about God knows what.

At this point in the night, though, I was ready to go home. Everyone was going out to a bar, but I knew that I was too drunk and tired to do that. I needed about a gallon of water and my bed. Tonight was not the night to talk to David. I had missed another opportunity.

As I headed home in a cab, I checked my phone one last time — no response — and  felt disappointed. It had been an amazingly fun night, just not what I had expected on the boy front. It’s funny how you can be so excited about something and then feel so disappointed so quickly after.

That’s Halloween 2013, though. It was a great party, great costume, spent with great friends…and yet it still had it’s disappointing moments. Why do boys (or the lack of them) have so much pull over my life?