When I told Ryanne that I thought I had a drinking problem, she reminded me, “you’re not an alcoholic. You’re just someone who likes to drink. A lot.”
There’s a test you can take on-line that can help you decide if you’re an alcoholic. Yes, I fit a number of the criteria that would define me as a drunk, but I don’t have an addictive nature. I can quit anything.
To prove it, I quit drinking for two weeks. I didn’t have the shakes. I didn’t french kiss the guy at the end of the bar just to taste the vodka on his lips (I did that because I’m friendly). Instead of martinis, my drink of choice was Smart Water. And that shit must work, because things started getting crystal clear for me.
I was at a party at O Bar last week when I met a new guy. In order to protect the not-so- innocent, we’ll call him “Sean.”
During our lengthy conversation, he sank his baby blues into mine and said, “we should get together.” He touched my knee, my hand and my arm, which, the last time I checked was the universal sign for “I’m interested in scheduling a time in the very near future when I can see you naked.”
Since I don’t play games, I e-mailed him the next day stating I would like to see him over a warm caffeinated beverage. And a week later, he responded.
Mistake number one was waiting a week. Because he lives in
In order to better prepare myself for our encounter, I used my spy/stalker skills and found his profile on Connexion.org. Whatever the opposite of photogenic is, that’s Sean. The man has a nice body which he flaunts in the photographs, but that’s about all he has going for him. The camera does not love him. And if they say the camera adds ten pounds, then I want to know how many cameras were on him.
We met at Java Detour (which Ryanne refers to as my “sober living” home). I was actually looking forward to this, because I’ve never had a “coffee date.” I felt smarter.
Which wasn’t hard, because Sean was an idiot. I quickly realized why I drink on dates. It’s not because I’m nervous. It’s to make my date seem more interesting. For me.
When a guy asks you, “how is your weekend going,” the appropriate response is not, “well, I had this mind-blowing date last night and we were going to get together tonight, but he said his dad was sick and he had to go to
As it turns out, Sean wants to be a writer and wants me to read his work and give him notes. I should have known he wouldn’t have asked me out twice without some ulterior motive such as homework. You’re never going to see me asking out a personal trainer and saying, “hey, can you set me up with a training program?” Sean didn’t want a date. Sean wanted coverage.
Thirty minutes into this pseudo coffee date, I began yawning and finally just said, “you can leave. I have some journaling to do.” I don’t expect to see him anymore.
I had not been on Connexion.org in about five months. But much like Days of Our Lives, you can be away for a year or two and come back and pick up on the same people and same storylines.
I still have yet to discover why so many men post headless photos of themselves as profile pictures. If eyes are the window to the soul, then what are waxed abs a window to? As if to say, don’t get to know me. Get to know my chest.
Ask for a face picture and they will usually hit you back with “need to be discreet.” Discreet. Bitch, you’re the same guy who on Craigslist.org said you wanted someone to “rape your manhole.” And we know because you used THE SAME PICTURE or your chest along with pictures of your rock hard cock. If you want to be discreet, then perhaps you shouldn’t be sending photos of your dick and ass out. Because those photos get around. We live in a very, very small city. Everybody knows everybody.
And when did it become common practice to post a picture of yourself taking a picture of yourself in the bathroom. It’s like the gay mug shot. The men never look happy. They always look like they need to take a massive dump.
If you insist on taking a picture of yourself in your bathroom, consider the “timer” on your camera. That way it looks like for some odd reason, your friend took a picture of you wearing nothing more than a towel. And another suggestion: clean your bathroom.
But if you must take a picture of yourself in a towel, consider location. A closely cropped photo standing by a pool looks like you were at a pool party and you just cropped everyone else out. No one is none the wiser that you are just simply posting a pathetic self portrait. But don’t go overboard as one older man on the site has done and take the same shirtless picture on the same day standing in the same spot in a towel, shorts, underwear and slacks. Variety is the key.
Another mystery to me is why so many men have been using the same photo since 2002. Don’t any of these men have friends with access to a digital camera that can help them out? And be wary of anyone who posts a black and white headshot. Casting directors started demanding color headshots in 2001.
I also love the guys who post shirtless photos with the caption, “skinny” or “me with no muscle.” Self-deprecation and ironic. If only the guilty in question knew the meaning of those two words.
I do love the “taken on” dates. As if to say, “I looked this good on
On sites like Connexion.org or Adam4Adam.com, it appears there is an unwritten rule that looking hot means looking like you’re on the cover of a barely legal porn video. That “I’m a sweet, innocent, virgin who just needs someone to pop my cherry” look irks the every loving shit out of me. And somehow, that “look” has crossed over into all forms of gay media. From posters to bar theme nights. Whether it be the bath house ads, the pictures of guys advertising AZT drugs, or guys selling underwear by gay designers. Guys don’t look hot. The guys are TRYING to look hot.
Does David Beckham coyly look down from his billboards with an “I’m a innocent like minx and I just need a daddy” look? Nn. David Beckham is confident in his body. David Beckham is walking sex. Gabriel Aubry (
In the new issue of The Advocate, they shot 26 people completely nude. The pictures were hot because the people exposed not only their bodies but their insecurities. These were not Janice Dickinson models and they weren’t part time go go boys at Here. These were “real” people. And there is a difference between being “naked” and being “exposed.” And naked is far sexier.
If you can make it through the pictures on these “social networking sites,” then you’ll discover actually reading the profiles is even more entertaining. “No time for television.” (Yet, these will be the same people who can tell you what designer the chicks on Gossip Girl were wearing the night before). I don’t want to live in a world with people who have no time for television. How can you not have time for television?
And “relationship status.” If your boyfriend has a profile on these sites and says he’s “in a committed relationship,” then posts a dozen shirtless pictures, then I’ve got news for you: You are not in a committed relationship. And to each his own. I know many couples who have “open” relationships. I’m not judging. I’m just saying I’d be in prison serving a life sentence if I discovered my partner was sleeping with someone other than me. Perhaps that's why I’m single.
Or “I’m into the A&F (Abercrombie and Fitch for those who just came out of a fallout shelter from 1991) type.” If you say you’re into the A&F type, what you mean to say is, “I like young, nude, hairless boys who look as dumb and vapid as they seem.” And men over the age of 33 should not wear Abercrombie and Fitch. That’s right, 33. Jesus wouldn’t have worn A&F if he had survived and neither should you.
After spending hours of just scrolling through profiles, I decided I’m not going to meet anyone on-line. I canceled my profile for good. Alex has left the building.
But I did get a great idea. I’m going to join a grief support group for people who have recently lost loved ones. What better way to meet single people who know what a monogamous relationship is supposed to be!? Some people see that as being sick. I see it as being efficient.
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