I have written before about expectations as applied to the lead up to the first sexual encounter with a new date. But in this world of technological dating, we are often left with an entirely new brand of expectations – the first face-to-face meeting. These virtual expectations, whether good or bad, can actually keep us from enjoying things as they truly are.
In my previous entry I wrote about fate and how it was taking me to Brighton, England for Gay Pride and more importantly, to meet a boy that I had been talking to every day for the past three months. Yes, three months! Talking to includes: texting, sending videos back and fourth and Skyping. I would like to put on the record that while there were some flirtatious messages, there was nothing that I would be too embarrassed to show my momma. This was a first for me!
So by the time I hopped on that Virgin Atlantic flight across the pond, I thought I knew every detail of his being. I knew the meanings in his different laughs. I knew his little side smirks. I saw the sadness in his eyes when he was telling me about his father’s open-heart surgery. “I know him so well” I told myself. I did not allow myself to account for the flesh. No, you dirty birds; I’m not talking about sex, yet. I’m talking about him as a real three dimensional human being. Continue Reading…
Fate is a tricky beast. When deciding whether to believe in fate, we tend to think about the good things that have happened. But to earnestly believe in fate, one must also think of all of the tragic things that have occurred. Was it fated that millions of Africans were going to be ripped from their homes and enslaved; was it fated that 9/11 would happen thus causing global panic; and was it fated that millions of Jews were to be murdered during the Holocaust? This is a major reason why I’m conflicted with the power of fate. This is the story of my most interesting bout with fate.
About a month and a half ago I downloaded Tinder in the hopes of getting myself out there and dating more. For those of you who don’t know, Tinder is another location-originated app for your phone, much like Grindr. But unlike Grindr, Tinder is geared more towards actual dating, not the obligatory Grindr “date.”
I know it is just an app, but it is hard dating in NYC and we need all the help we can get!
The morning after I downloaded the app, I started chatting with this cute boy with blonde curly hair and bright blue eyes. Yes, I realize I have a type. I asked him how morning was and he replied “Morning? Where are you?” It turns out the location feature on my Tinder was a bit out of whack and had put me in touch with a guy who lives in England. We didn’t let the Atlantic Ocean stop us and we continued to chat. Continue Reading….
Why is it that the most unattainable guys are the ones we are most attracted to? I’m not talking about the guys who we think are so gorgeous they repel anything less then themselves. No, I am referring to the men, who for one reason or another, we can never have. In the past couple weeks I have had two very different kinds of unattainables.
A couple of weeks ago a new friend of mine, Charles was performing in a new play. The only thing I will say about the production was that his performance was amazing, and I trust you will understand my implications. Afterwards, I was invited to have drinks with his friends.I have decreed that I am going to try to be more social this summer and thus going forward I am not allowing myself to use “doing laundry” as my excuse for not going out on a Friday night. So I said yes.
After the play we all walked to a nearby bar and I randomly made the decision to sit next to the boy with the biceps the size of cantaloupes. It was a valid choice that I stand by. His name was Malcolm. At first, Malcolm had no intention in speaking to me. In fact he had no intention to speak to anyone based on his complete enthrallment with the glowing light of his iPhone. So I chatted with some other new people and was starting to feel like part of the group. Then Malcolm put down his phone and noticed me and the night started to change. Continue Reading…
As the cold continued to descend upon the greater northeast, I decided to abandon New York City and escape the Polar Vortex for something a bit warmer. So, I whisked myself away on my first solo vacation and found myself on the gay friendly Caribbean island ofCuraçao. Now, what is the first thing we do when going to a new place? If you guessed “use our gentleman socializing applications to see what the natives are like” you are correct!
Don’t get me wrong; I spent so much time lounging on various lush beaches, swimming, snorkeling, and reading by the pool while drinking frozen drinks that I now have a new favorite come-on line: “Do you wanna see my tan lines?” But I also managed to meet some very interesting people on that small island, some of whom I fooled around with and some who I just hung out with. In my short time there, I met two different guys who were both HIV-positive and shared the same views on disclosing their status: they didn’t. Continue Reading…
I’ve lied to you.
Ok, not really lied, but I’ve been keeping things from you.
I swear it wasn’t my intention to be deceptive; it’s just that there are some things that aren’t story worthy. If I told you everything, you would hear stories much like: “I went to meet a mildly attractive guy, who had one extremely long nose hair that kept peaking out. After the date was over I went home and plucked and preened and made sure I was perfectly manscaped.” These non- stories are the byproduct of dating. We all have them. I am sure that I am in someone else’s blog as the anglophile with the overt obsession for Jane Austen. Continue Reading…
My birthday has come and gone and now I find myself in my late thirties. And guess what? Nothing happened. I didn’t instantly become a cat lady spending my nights alone watching sappy romantic comedies, eating my feelings, stuffing my face with dark chocolate and dreaming of my future husband. You see, I didn’t become one of those because I have always been one. Minus the cats. I’m allergic or I know I would have them too. Haven’t you seen those YouTube videos? They are so cute.
For my birthday present I have decided to take a 10-day trip to England with one of my best friends. I am sure you have guessed, with all my references to Jane Austen, I am quite an anglophile. What better a place to look for British Boys than in England. (What did you think I meant by BB? Get your mind out of the gutters!) Continue Reading…
What constitutes an old maid in this day and age? I don’t mean the card game where you try your best to stick your opponents with the decrepit old women in the rocking chair. I am referring to the dreaded age when your family and friends stop wondering if you will shack up. The age when they give up hope that you will ever find love.
I have been thinking about this quite a lot lately. In all honesty, its mostly because I have a birthday looming – my thirty-seventh birthday to be exact – and I’m beginning to feel like I’m staring down the barrel of forty. I realize that forty isn’t, by any means, ancient. And I’m aware that men have been known to have children into their seventies. But no Charlie Chaplin am I…continue reading