Date #11: The Birthday Boy

The title above refers to me--I turned 22 on July 19th and in the words of Marissa Tomei in that cinematic gem My Cousin Vinny my biological clock IS TIK-KIN! (Stomps on floor with foot.)

I can't believe I've already gone on 10 dates so far and I just started this project in June. How many would qualify me for a brand new toaster?

Anyone?

Moving on--I had a lunch date today with a boy. A boy whom I admit I'm a little bit smitten with--and yes, I say smitten--I'm gay, get over it.

He's hot. Let's not mince words. And I know I always bring up what the guys look like but since I haven't been seeing any of them more than once--thereby limiting a chance to get to know their pesonalitys, or lack thereof--I might as well size them up based on looks.

So yeah, HOT HOT HOT HOTTIE MCHOTPANTS WITH A SIDE OF HOT SAUCE. (So of course, I was a completely hot mess.)

By the way, his name is Connor (Hotness.)

We went to lunch after running into each other last night at the club. We had talked before but last night was the first time we were together in a social setting. (It was a meeting at best, not a date, so don't worry about my coutning skills.) He was with friends and clearly not in his element so he was pretty aloof, didn't say good-bye when he left, and didn't dance with me all night. So I used the mild irritation I felt to quell the urge I had during lunch to rip off every article of clothing on his body and reeanct scenes from Cruel Intentions with him. (Sarah Michelle Gellar pressing up against step-bro Ryan Phillippe, you know what I'm talking about, kids.)

HIM: I really feel bad about last night.
ME: You should. You acted like a dick.
(He did, I was being honest. I hear hot guys like honesty. Let's see.)
HIM: You're right. And thank you for being honest about how you're feeling.
(Thank you, Dr. Phil. You might have just gotten me a husband.)
ME: It was my birthday. I think a dance would have been nice.
HIM: Well, that's why I called you today. I figured I'd make it up to you.

Sweet, yes. Was I receptive? Hell no.

You're going to hate me for what I do next, so brace yourself.

See, this would be Date #11, and even though I'm only one-tenth through the challenge, there's something about guys that's been pissing me off lately. Not just with all the ones I've been dating, but the ones my friends have been dating, and even some of my guy friends. And looking at this incredibly hot guy and hearing him say--essentially--

"I'm sorry, but at least I'm making it up to you..the next day."

--Just wasn't going to cut it. I had to monologue--so I did.

Hate me now.

ME: I just don't think that's what I want.
HOTNESS: Huh?
ME: Your response. This lunch. It isn't what I want.
HOTNESS: Okay...So what do you want?

Ladies and gentlemen, Kevin Broccoli...

I wanted you to drive home to Newport, get into your house and think--Man, I was a dick tonight. I really like that guy, and I barely paid attention to him. I really have no excuse for doing that. It was his birthday. And all he wanted was to dance with me for a little while and maybe talk. I wanted all these ideas to run through your head at a rapid pace, driving you nuts until you picked up the phone, called me, and said--"I'm coming to your house. Give me the address." I then wanted you to drive back from Newport, to Providence, at 3am--completely disregarding the fact that you had work the next day, just so I could open the door and you could kiss me on my front porch at the end of my birthday and literally make it one of the best ever. That's what I wanted.

Now, granted I'm paraphrasing--but that was pretty much it.

WHERE THE F**K DID THAT COME FROM?

Did I really want that? That wasn't me. That was super high maintenance guy! Complete with cape and Banana cardigan. Asking a guy to drive to me from Newport at all hours of the early morning just to give me a kiss and make me happy? I actually asked that of someone?

You bet your ass I did.

You know what? At one point did I decide that I'm not worthy of being treated like a motherf**king studmuffin?

Cursing, I know. At least I'm using asterisks.

I feel like I always said I was low-maintenace because I didn't think I deserved to be high maintenance. Just like how I always used to say I didn't mind smoking because I didn't want to seem like a prude. But I do mind smoking. And I do want to be treated nicely. And it's not like I want a guy who'll pick up the tab for champagne--granted I don't drink--or buy me stuff, I just want--I want--

HOTNESS: What do you want?
ME: I want someone to show up. You know? They always say the ones who show up in life are the ones who get what they want. Well, I want a guy who's going to show up for me. Not just make an appearance, not just drop by, but show up. You driving to me last night would have been insane, but it would have been you making a mistake and then showing up to fix it. That's what I want.
HOTNESS: And what does showing up entail?
ME: Walking into a room with me and looking so happy everyone in the room hates us. Not answering your phone when I'm talking to you and it rings--as a matter of fact, turning it off when we're out together--like now. Calling me just to say hi. Not trying to juggle me with other guys. Not keeping yourself guarded just in case I like that sort of thing or so you won't get hurt. Being goofy. Throwing yourself into me--metaphorically of course, you're huge. Picking up the phone at 2:30am and talking to me even though you should be sleeping. And if this sounds like a lot then all I can say is, it's everything I'll promise to do for you. I'll show up if you will.
HOTNESS: So this isn't showing up?
ME: No, this is smoothing things over. I'm not a political crisis, I'm a guy. You can't smooth me over. You need to make me feel like you want to be with me, because I'm not always going to believe that, and unfortunately if you want to be with me, that's going to have be your job for a little while.
HOTNESS: Making you know that I want to be with you?
ME: Yes.

Oh Christ, I'm Bridget Jones.

Look, when I was a kid--Cue violins--My dad used to tell me every weekend, "You're going to come stay over my house. I'm going to pick you up Friday night and bring you home Sunday. So pack a bag, we're going to have so much fun." So I'd pack my bag and I'd sit on the couch underneath the window at 6pm on Friday and I'd wait. And I'd wait. And after awhile, my Mom would come in and pat my head, and tell me Dad called and stuff came up, and did I want to watch TGIF?

Yeah...okay...

He never showed up.

And instead of going after guys who would, I'd go after guys who wouldn't and then let them--

"It's okay, I understand."
"Hey, stuff happens."
"We can catch the movie another time."
"I could do it tomorrow or next week if that's better for you."

"No problem, Dad. I'll just sleep over next Friday."

Say it with me now--F**k that noise.

ME: I can't believe I have a father complex.
FRIEND: Nothing wrong with a sugar daddy.
ME: That's not what I mean.
FRIEND: Nevertheless, nothing wrong with a sugar daddy.
ME: Do you think I was being an ass by unloading all this on Hotness?
FRIEND: I think anytime you talk for more than three sentences on a first date it's a bad idea.
ME: Well, I'm not good at being aloof like you.
FRIEND: I keep telling you, it hurts at first--
ME: Aloof means guarded.
FRIEND: Never mind.

So I told Hotness that though I may need therapy, it wasn't going to change the fact that I want what I want, and I think I deserve what I want.

And he...agreed.

So ladies and gentlemen, we have our first second date coming up in the challenge.

And Happy Birthday to me!