Monthly Archives: August 2011

This Bed is Too Soft. This Bed is Too Hard.

Sitting on my couch, incapacitated by a summer cold and watching more Jane Austen than any gay can handle, I received a couple text messages from Asher

“How are you?”

“We should hang out again. Possibly a date?”

At first I didn’t answer them. I don’t know why. Really, the only thing that I gave me pause about Asher, outside of his name, was that he comes from money. Lots of money! This is no reason not to date someone. In fact, this is the reason that many people actually start dating, for the money! But, no Anna Nicole am I. Continue reading…


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Trying to Let Things Go

For the past week and a half, I have been out of commission. No dates. No nothing. Before your imagination runs wild, it’s not because I found creepy crawlers in my nether regions… And no, I didn’t throw my back out in some crazy ménage à trois with a midget and a leather daddy.

Alas, I had the dreaded summer cold.

I spent the bulk of my time on my couch, snotty, trying to recover while watching romantic period dramas. As I watched Jane Austen’s Persuasion I couldn’t help to feel sorry for poor Anne Elliot. She was chastised as a spinster at age twenty-seven. This got me dreading my own impending birthday. I will be thirty-five in two weeks.  THIRTY FIVE! Continue reading…

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I Require So Much!

As I venture out into the world of dating, I would like to reiterate the very first line that I’d written: Dating is hard!

Outside of the actual act of dating, which comes with its own set of challenges, meeting people is hard. Especially in this concrete jungle that I call home. When I do meet a person who is think is worthy of my attention, either they aren’t interested in me or I lose interest in them. So, I say again: Dating is Hard!

Wait….maybe I shouldn’t complain, I have had two dates since the end of Josh. Continue Reading…

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On the Same Page

Josh and I were trucking along. We brought our friends together for a group outings We had our own inside jokes, like naming my apartment Auschwitz and dubbing his apartment Philadelphia (and not because I used to live there).

As we spent more and more time together, I hoped that my complete admiration for him would turn into something more substantial. Alas, it did not. I wish I could blame not having that head over heels feeling on not enjoying my heels over my head with him, but it wasn’t that. Or maybe I should say, it wasn’t just that. There was an absence of butterflies. I tried – hard as I could – to deny these feelings, because I wanted it to work with him, I really did. But finally, I gave into the realization that Josh wasn’t the one for me. Continue reading…

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