Posts Tagged ‘romance

30
Aug
13

Doe Eyes

If I’m upfront about the lack of chemistry or attraction; clearly staring into what could only be described as “doe eyes”, I’m presumptuous. “What if I just wanted to be friends?!” (But you didn’t…)

If I assume platonic friendship, and you make a move that I block, I’m a tease? “You could’ve said something sooner…” (Or you could take a hint)

What’s the right balance to strike when someone’s head won’t let him comprehend non-verbal communication, and simultaneously blocks his ability to engage in verbal communication?

I’m out there in this dating game just like you. Trying to wade through all these crazy heifers looking for some kind of meaningful, two-way, Pixar type of love connection with a side of HBO. But let’s face it: every date is a gamble. And if we aren’t a fit, I’m still going to try to spare your dignity so you can keep your head up enough to stay In the game! Its not a courtesy that’s common, at least not one that is typically extended to me – so be grateful. I’m doing it for you.

No more sympathy extensions. Dragging the one-way courtship out to “spare” your feelings. And no more pity sex either. Don’t get me wrong; I think you’re valuable, worthy of being loved, and destined for greatness – even if its not with me. But not being a romantic fit doesn’t mean we can’t be friends. community. brothers. Contrary to popular belief, some homo friendships do start, evolve and come to their sunset without sex.

But a lot of guys don’t see it that way. Ego, cloaked as Rejection, that old bitch, rears her ugly head. “Fuck you too.”

I guess. But why would either of us hold the other back from getting closer to the men out there just waiting to be the perfect compliment to each of our unique brands of crazy?

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13
Aug
13

You’ve Got Male

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So, I got a text today. I know, interesting right? But seriously this isn’t the kind of text I get everyday. Although it is the kind of text I should get everyday:

Hi Carnelious, (sp?)
I just wand to apologize for my behavior yesterday. While you were the perfect guest I was sorely lacking as a host. Not only that your prowess as a top was impressive plus you were fun to be around, period. Your visit was a nice surprise and very enjoyable. Thank you again for your graciousness.

Crazy, right? The text that would redeem at least 75% of the 90% of dates that go horribly wrong (the other 25% of botched dates might be my stuff, I’m willing to admit that) finally arrives in my inbox. And (despite my misspelled name) it made me feel, well, proud. Proud that I am indeed secure enough in myself to maintain my grace and humor in the face of cynical gay minutiae. Proud that I can control my urge to either curse out, punch or angrily yelp about the elitist and judgmental gay who doesn’t want to be judged. And I guess, I might as well admit it, proud that someone finally “got” that regardless of their previous conviction – they’ve never really bottomed until I was inside them. i mean…as a sensitive, “Politically Correct”, mild mannered activist recently exploring his inner kink – it’s nice to have your inner stud verbally validated (in addition to whatever it is they usually yell into the pillow, that is.)

The only catch? I didn’t mind this particular guy’s hosting. Didn’t Even register it. He owed me no apology. Granted I’m a bit numb to manner-less gays, as to take offense to all of them would leave little time in my day. But there was no “continuation chemistry”. I was perfectly fine walking out that door with a familiar and hollow “call ya later.” And then this. He tells me what I’m staring at the phone, craving to hear from anonymous guys 1 – 9. And I’m not sure if I’m the Ass or the Hole. Or which is worse.

But beggars can’t be choosers. So ill take the compliment, politely refuse the second date, and revel in the fact that it is indeed possible to fuck some sense into someone.

Oh, by the way, I know what you’re thinking. And yes, I did sleep with him on the first date. Its not like I could afford to wait after all. If we were going nowhere fast, I at least wanted to enjoy the ride.