Everything & Nothing In Common

Today, the sun will set in the east and Hell will catch a cold, surely...

*Subject #1- Very attractive, sullen/bummed-out, 40 year old, ex-surfer dude from California.

*Date- We set up first date at a coffee shop in Gastonia, things started out well enough but guy seemed a little paranoid that other people in the coffee shop were listening to out conversation and wanted to leave. He suggests lunch at the sub shop across the street. He didn’t offer to pay for my food even though he was the one that asked me out. Once we had food on table, he picked at his food and nervously diddled with his blackberry in lieu of talking to me. I pretended that I was finished with my meal so we could leave and end this thing. Walking across the parking lot toward our cars, he throws out several big hints that he wouldn’t mind coming back to my place and I’m thinking, wonder if he’s any livelier in bed. I say I have plans (I never sleep with a guy on the first date (oppps, I forgot about Valentines…well, let me rephrase that, it’s my goal to not sleep with a guy on the first date). I don’t hear from him for two weeks until last Friday night, I get an IM instead of a call. He expresses interest again and states that he’s a top, perhaps thinking that if I’d known that (and I did), I would have invited him over to my house that day we went out. He makes a tentative date with me that for that Monday but never calls and firms up the plans with me.


*Verdict? Definite physical/sexual chemistry (at least on my part), but this guy is too moody, aloof and downright shifty for my taste. What that means is, I’d do the nasty with him but I don’t trust him as far as I could throw him. I’d always wonder what was going on in his head.

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*Subject #2- Nice, late 40’s, clean-cut, sorta nelly guy that works at the hospital as a phlebotomist.

*Date- We meet in the Barnes & Noble coffee shop at 10:30. What can I say about this guy? He was the sweetest, funniest guy I’ve met in a long time. He was a little too nelly and a little too interested in drag for me to consider dating him. A light seemed to go on in his eyes when he started talking about doing drag for local charity events and that lead to an hour-long discussion about the wig he wore last time he called numbers at gay bingo. We make plan to go window-shopping the next day, but I call and cancel the next morning.

*Verdict? This is the kind of guy I’d love to hang out with and do things with as friends but that’s all. There’s no physical/sexual chemistry here for me at all. I sense that he really likes me and decide that trying to hang out with him right now would just give him a false impression that I was into him as well.

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*Subject #3- Tall, rugged, 45-year-old, uber-butch, uber-hung, Latino businessman from Florida.


Date- I broke a rule with this guy and agreed to meet him at his hotel room in downtown Charlotte. I figured that somebody would hear me in the hall if I needed to scream for help. I was impressed when he opened the door. He was very hot and had those kind of eyes that seemed to make you want to take your clothes off and fall at his feet, but wait…I didn’t, I was a good girl, so be proud of me. Lord, when he sat me down and told me what the deal was, I almost shit, ya’ll. Okay, here goes: he wanted me to move to Delray Beach, Florida and be his bitch. I mean that literally, he wanted me to (as he put it) sit up in his crib all day long in women’s lingerie and constantly service him orally or bend over for bareback butt sex when he snapped his fingers. I started to laugh, because I thought he was joking, but stopped when I realized that he was serious as a heart attack. I carefully explained that I wasn’t a transsexual or a transvestite and that just because I’m a bottom, that doesn’t mean that I want to be a woman or wear women’s clothing. I wished him well in his bitchquest and left.


Verdict? - This guy was smokin' hot and totally my type, but clearly really into the men in women’s clothing thing & I ain’t going there, ya’ll. Could you imagine me and my hairy ass in some pink Victoria’s Secret outfit? Oh-Hell-Fuckin-No! Good Lord, could you just imagine the electrolysis bill!

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*Subject #4- Muscle-bound, 39 year old, ex-male prostitute with the usual golden skin, blue eyes and flashing white (capped) teeth and I might add, a complete and utter train wreck.

Date- I'd seen the guy about town for years, usually on the arm of an older, wealthy man. I'd seen his ad for his “services” in the back of one of the local gay papers. I'd even seen pictures of him frolicking in the surf nude with several other hot guys on a friend’s Flickr page. And now I saw him before me, bawling his eyes out at a table in Chili’s because he was HIV positive and nobody wanted him anymore. There was no turning back for him and he couldn't step back into his former lifestyle. He'd given up hookin’ two years ago when he found out he was poz and took a job as a park ranger and you guessed it, he hated it with a passion. I don't know about you, but there are worse things a body could do… I wanted to say: “At least you're not flipping burgers at Mickey D’s, Mary.” But I just smile and make sounds of sympathetic outrage over the cruel twist of fate that has him in it’s clutches. I'm guessing working a daily 9 to 5 job would seem pretty awful after being a male prostitute. I mean, plop out your dick once a day and let some stranger slobber all over it for 30 minutes and get paid hundreds of dollars... You pretty much can't have an easier job than that, right? I don't feel sorry for him. Actually, I'm kind of pissed at him by this point, that I'd wasted my afternoon sitting here listening to a spoiled pretty boy cry because life is so damn unfair. I'd thought when he spotted me selling lesbian watercolors (flowers that look like cooters) at the local AIDS fundraiser and asked me out, that it was for a date (you know romance, laughter, good times), not an invitation to attend his god-damn personal pity-party. I felt duped and cheated and sure as hell did not want to sit around a cry with him. So, not feeling particularly nice or emotionally generous, I lied and said I had to get up early the next day and needed to get my ass in bed (it was only 7:30 PM). He gave me this hurt look, like: but I'm not finished telling you all about my tormented existence...

Verdict? – OMG, where to start? This guy is a mess. He needs to get his shit together. He needs to stop feeling sorry for himself. He needs to make lemonaide from his lemons. One day, he might he dateable but not right now unless you’re so taken by his looks (I wasn’t, thank God) that you don’t mind all the drama and self-loathing/self-pity crap he keeps pulled around himself like a cloak.

Okay Guyz. I love ya and thanks for your support of Adventures In Gay Dating. Behave yourself, ok.

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