Date #18: Under the Table

I don't drink.

All my friends are aware of this.

Members of my family have actually tried to get me to drink on several occasions--this includes my mother.

I'm sure when I die the first thing God will say to me is--

"You sure you don't want a cocktail?"

I just don't drink.

But I want to make it very clear that I have nothing against other people drinking.

That being said...

I almost called this date--

Date #18: A Date with a Lush.

After Charlie gained a sizeable lead in the Charlie vs. Connor Battle of the Boys, Connor made a surprise phone call that I thought might be him trying to make a comeback.

"Come have a drink with me."

Well, why not?

By the time I got to the bar, Connor was already having a pretty good time.

He was wearing a blue-button down shirt and black pants, but despite the somewhat formal attire, he was clearly letting his hair down.

Before I even got to say hi to him, I saw Connor down a shot, slap one of his friend's asses, and yodel.

That's right, yodel.

Still, I thought I should appreciate the opportunity to see him, since he hadn't called me in awhile. Having already seen him drunk, I thought I was well-prepared for a little tipsy debauchery.

Oh...so...wrong.

Just so we're clear, there are levels of drunk:

There's kinda buzzed.
Buzzed.
A little drunk.
Drunk.
Wasted.
And Connor.

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you Connor upon seeing me:

"You are cute, so...oh my god, my tummy. Woo!"

It was a little like a TRL request, but drunker.

Connor proceeded to drink even more while I tried to carry on a conversation with him.

ME: So maybe we could catch a movie sometime.
CONNOR: You don't like hanging out like this?
ME: I wouldn't call this hanging out.
CONNOR: What would you call it?
ME: Pledging a fraternity?
CONNOR: My hair is frizzin tonight, dude.

To make things even more enjoyable, Connor was at the bar with some of his delightful drunken girl pals--all of whom clearly wanted to have sex with him, and perhaps thought that if he was drunk it might be easier to get him in bed.

My favorite was his friend Amber.

FYI, nobody named Amber has ever amounted to anything; I'm pretty sure of this at least.

"Oh my God. Me and Connor are like...oh my God...like..."

Will and Grace, Amber?

"We're like Will and Grace!"

Thought so.

She then proceeded to stick her hand down Connor's pants. I think he thought it was my hand, because he grabbed me and attempted to make out with me. I say "make out," but in reality, it was more like a bird feeding its young minus the dead worms.

So there I was, Connor's tongue in my mouth and Amber's hand down his pants.

And I thought...Is this really my life?

Then Connor leaned back and said:

"I think I'm going to puke."

And he did...granted, he waited till he made it to the bathroom.

For the next hour.

This was when I called Brian to see how his date with Peter went.

BRIAN: It was disappointing.
ME: How so?
BRIAN: Well, would you judge me if I told you we had sex on the first date?
ME: Yes, but continue.
BRIAN: Okay, so we had sex...and...it was...
ME: Not good?
BRIAN: No, it was good, but...
ME: But what?
BRIAN: He's a stripper.
ME: Yeah, and?
BRIAN: It wasn't like having sex with a stripper.
ME: Did he forget to bring the pole?
BRIAN: You know what I mean. It was just average.
ME: I'm sorry to hear that. Call me back when he almost pukes on you.

When Connor was done throwing up, I carried him back to my car when I sat him in the front seat and began the drive home to Newport with him. He had gotten a ride with Amber, but rather than offer to stick her in the backseat, I quited hoped that there was some poor wallflower sitting in a corner somewhere waiting to drive that hot mess home.

Okay, so I won't be winning the MADD award this year.

Let Grace call a taxi.

On the way to Newport I expressed to Connor my concern that perhaps the only reason he called me was because he was drunk and wanted to make out.

His response?

CONNOR: You are so f**king hot.

Flattery will get you everywhere, Drunkie McDrunk Pants.

By the time we arrived at his house, he was pretty much passed out. His roommate Theo came out and helped me get him into bed. I then headed back to Providence.

ME: So that's over at least.
FRIEND: But you haven't even had sex with him yet.
ME: Seeing him vomit organs pretty much killed the attraction.
FRIEND: Kevin, everybody gets drunk once in awhile.
ME: It wasn't so much that as the fact that him being drunk was the only reason he called me.
FRIEND: It's not about why the door opens, it's about walking through it.
ME: That makes no sense.
FRIEND: You need to have sex with this guy! Don't use logic to skirt the issue.
ME: Why don't I just give you his number and you can have sex with him?
FRIEND: Works for me.

He called the next day. I told him...well, nothing. I started to tell him something and then he apologized for his actions the night before and told me that he called me while drunk because he wouldn't have had the courage otherwise. He said he really likes me and that how he's feeling makes him really nervous.

I told him that was fine, but that actions mean more to me than just talk.

It was then that he invited me to meet his family.

Now I need a drink.

Date #17: The Dinner Party

A dinner party is something I’ve always associated with being a sophisticated adult.

For me, it’s right up there with wine-tasting and sleeping with the pool boy.

So when Charlie suggested that our second date involve one of his traditional Tuesday night dinner parties, I was way gung-ho about it.

Then it occurred to me that I might need some back-up in case Charlie’s friends were less than friendly. Fortunately, one of Charlie’s friends was single, gay, and supposedly cute. He suggested I invite Brian as a kind of set-up, and it seemed like the perfect opportunity to indulge in an elegant adult activity and do a good deed!

BRIAN: I’m not going.

Brian was a little wary of any kind of dating since things with both Army Guy and 4-Way Ricky hadn't led to positive results. To make matters worse, Brian’s roommate Scooter and his new flavor of the week were trying to conquer the age-old art of tantric sex.

BRIAN: If I hear them scream ‘Hold it in, hold it in’ one more time while playing Sting’s ‘Desert Rose’ I’m going to scream ‘Let it out, and go to sleep!’

With a little convincing—and the promise of a free lunch at the Nordstrom Café—Brian got on board.

So I had an allie, a cute guy, and apple pie (well, I was going to buy it from the store anyway).

Everything was going to go perfectly.

Until things turned into an episode of Frasier.

To start the night off with a bang, I got held up late at work, which left me no time to turn myself from a grubby librarian into a super-hot, charming studmuffin. I ran home, threw on a shirt, stuck some gel in my hair, and drove to Charlie’s house.

When he opened the door in his adorable “Bringing Home the Bacon” apron, I could see my decor almost made him drop the spatula in his right hand. My outfit was quasi-decent and my hair was just plain Quasimodo.

ME: Just laugh, Charlie. I’ve brought it on myself.

He didn’t. Instead he gave me a kiss on the cheek, told me to run upstairs to take a shower and that he would fix my hair when he got done with the lasagna. He also told me I could borrow some of his clothes.

Is this guy a keeper or what?

I was still in the shower when the doorbell rang. I ran downstairs in a towel hoping Charlie had decided to have Domino’s as the entrée rather than have his friends show up while I was still a soaking wet mess.

CHARLIE: Sorry Two of the guys always show up early.
ME: But an hour early? That’s insane.
CHARLIE: They’re a couple. It’s what they do.
ME: Well, then they asked for what they're about to get.

I could see Charlie didn’t know what I meant until I went to the door and opened it still in nothing but my towel.

Oh Christ.

TOMMY: Kevin?

(See Date #2: Doing Time.)

KEVIN: Tommy, wow, what…uh…

I wanted to say--Shouldn't your ankle bracelet be going off right now?

TOMMY: Oh my God, you’re the Kevin that Charlie’s dating?

That ‘dating’ sounded semi-exclusive. I’d have to bring that up to Charlie when I was wearing clothing and not standing in front of someone who was supposed to be under house arrest.
Then I saw who he was standing next to…

ALEX: Oh my God, I not seen you in forever!

Alex was pre-blog. Really pre-blog.

I went on one date with him when I first got to college and couldn’t rationalize going on any more, although truth be told, I probably would have during my slutty sophomore phase. Alex had arrived in the United States about a year before I met him and his dance card filled up the minute he hit the shore.

That’s right, he’s a Foreign Gay.

One of those guys who hears you can date a man in America and not get stoned to death—it’s a major selling point for international homo tourism.

His English is pretty good, but let’s face it, how can you really have a relationship with someone who can’t even speak your language?

For the answer to that, ask the five guys who Alex has been in serious relationships with since he’s been in this country.

Apparently Tommy was number six.

So why would guys date Alex you ask? Another six answers, and they all end in “pack.”

Alex happens to have one of the most amazing bodies you could ever expect someone to have who isn’t featured in an Abercrombie advertisement.

Basically, he’s too hot to be American. To be fair, he’s also a pretty nice guy—in the way the immigrants at Ellis Island were so nice and happy to be off the boat.

He gave me a big hug—apparently not realizing that the towel was not stapled to my waist—and for a second it almost seemed like this 3-way reunion was going to include Special K and things were going to become even more awkward.

It was at this moment that Charlie appeared.

Tommy played it strategically vague and told Charlie that he and I were pre-acquainted. Alex echoed the sentiments. Charlie looked a little surprised, but after all, this is Rhode Island. He invited them to go in the living room while I went upstairs to change. I made him come with so I could fill him in.

Once we were in his bedroom with the door shut, I asked the major question on my mind.

ME: How long have Alex and Tommy been going out?
CHARLIE: About a year.
ME: Oh terrific.
CHARLIE: What?
ME: I went out on a date with Tommy like a month ago.
CHARLIE: Doesn’t surprise me. He’s a whore.
ME: He was supposed to be under house arrest!
CHARLIE: That just got lifted last week.
ME: But how was he a whore while being under house arrest?
CHARLIE: Well, if you can’t bring Mohammad to the manwhore—
ME: Something tells me this is going to be a weird night.
CHARLIE: So you didn’t bring me in here for a quickie? You in that towel…
ME: Very funny, Chef. Go take care of the bacon.

Just as I finished dressing, the doorbell rang again. This time I let Charlie get it.

Luckily for me, it was Brian. I quickly updated him on the situation.

BRIAN: So you’re saying you’re the other woman?

With friends like these…

We went downstairs where Charlie was about to serve the salad. His friend for Brian had called to say he’d be running a little late. Brian and I both checked right then and there to make sure Charlie’s friend wasn’t some crazy ex of Brian’s or a bad date of mine. It turns out he’s from Atlanta and just moved to Rhode Island three months ago. So at least that disaster seemed to be averted.

All of us started eating. I said a silent prayer to myself that the meal could be one of those nice silent ones like at a monastery.

No such luck.

Alex, as I had forgotten, is actually quite chatty. He started talking about he and Tommy’s yearly summer trip to P-Town.

Does any gay couple not do a yearly summer trip to P-Town?

ALEX: We see so many gay guy. Nice ass on all. Crazy, crazy.

I’ll have to remember to move Alex up on my “Biggest Regrets” list.

It was then that I started to become angry. If there’s one thing I dislike it’s guys who try to have it all. Here was Tommy in a great relationship with a cute guy—Granted, one who probably can’t tell you how many stripes are on the flag, but still—and on the side he’s playing around with whomever he wants.

It’s not so much that he’s cheating; that’s his business, not mine. It’s more that he’s probably seeing guys that I could be seeing were they not seeing him.

AKA

You’re off the market, so stop selling your stock.

If someone wants to be in a relationship, terrific. I think relationships are wonderful, but in the words of my mother when I decided to try extra-hot spicy peppers—

“You brought this death sentence upon yourself, now you’re going to have to live with it.”

So naturally, this was when my desire for a monastic dinner turned into my desire for a fantastic sparring match. In other words--

The bitch was coming out to play.

ME: You know, Tommy, it is so great to see two guys really committed to each other.

Tommy’s eyebrows went up faster than a Starbucks on a corner.

ME: I mean, I think two guys really being only into one another and sharing a complete trust is just so admirable.

Brian and Charlie were both giving me subtle head shakes as if to say "Put down the gun, Kevin. Nobody has to get hurt here."

ALEX: So nice, thank you, Kevin. So nice.

Don't worry, I have no intention of breaking Alex's heart by letting him know his boyfriend has been playing Jailhouse Rock for God knows how long. I just liked seeing Tommy sweat.

TOMMY: Kevin, if you're trying to make me feel uncomfortable about going on a date with you while being in a relationship with Alex, it's a waste of time.

From across the table, I saw Brian nearly choke on his Romaine lettuce.

TOMMY: Alex and I explore options when they come along, but other than that, we're incredibly devoted to each other.
ME: Do you think you might have shared that 'devotion' with me while we were making out?

Oh, did I mention in that entry that we made out? Well yeah, we did. I made out with a guy under house arrest who was apparently in a relationship with a guy who sounds like he's on El Sabado Gigante. Go ahead, book me on Maury.

Brian tried to diffuse the situation.

BRIAN: Wow, this salad dressing is good.

I tried to escalate the situation.

ME: Oh yeah, adulterously good.

Charlie called a time-out.

CHARLIE: Kevin, want to come to the kitchen with me for a second?

We convened. Charlie explained to me that while he understood why I was ticked off, Tommy had been a friend of his for awhile, and although he may be slutty, it's nobody's place to judge--even mine, though again, he understood me being angry given that perhaps one night Alex was at his house watching a telenovela happy as a clam while me and his boyfriend were sucking face across town and I didn't have a clue. Charlie concluded by mentioning that he spent all day cleaning the apartment and making dinner so if now was the time to act like nice little WASPS and not talk about the thing we all wanted to argue about otherwise what the fuck was the point of making lasagna.

With this, the doorbell rang. I offered to get it, but not without giving Charlie a look that clearly read "You spoil my fun when you don't let me argue with the floozy."

I was still fuming when I answered the door.

"Hi, you must be Kevin. I'm Charlie's friend Peter."

...Said the most beautiful man I have ever seen in my life.

No word of a lie. HOT HOT HOT. Not to mention he had a light Southern accent that ran down my spine like the mouse at hickory dick--

"Wow."

I turned around to see Brian standing a few feet behind me taking in the spectacle that was Peter. Good to know when faced with a gorgeous guy he's subtle enough to emit a "Wow."

PETER: And you must be Brian.

He smiled and beautiful children were born all over the world. Hummingbirds sang. I think the doorknob melted. Brian and I showed him into the dining room while mouthing behind his back--

ME: Oh my God!
BRIAN: I know!
ME: Don't screw this up!
BRIAN: I don't plan on it!

Of course he could have thought I said "Don't start the cup" and he could have responded with "I do potted oxen." But that doesn't seem likely.

In the dining room, Charlie was serving up the WASP lasagna while Tommy and Alex greeted Peter. Brian and I took our seats, and the dinner started up again.

Brian was clearly in heaven. His losing streak seemed to be ending. I, on the otherhand, had been told to keep quiet--something I abhor--by a guy I really liked. Part of me was having trouble biting my lip as the conversation turned jovial.

Peter apologized for showing up late. He said he had gotten out of his party late.

BRIAN: Someone threw a party for you?
PETER: No, I was working a party.
BRIAN: This early in the night?
PETER: It was a bachelorette party.
BRIAN: Oh, so do you cater?

I noticed all the other guys at the table begin to snicker.

This can't be good.

TOMMY: Tell him what you do, Petie.

With a knowing smile, Peter responded--

PETER: I'm an exotic dancer.

Oh, but of course.

Brian's face fell faster than Snakes on a Plane hype. He didn't even bother trying to act like he didn't care. He just nodded as if to say--"Well, what did I expect?"

Tommy and Alex full out laughed. Brian looked humiliated. I got homocidal.

The next time Charlie went into the kitchen I took the opportunity to express my discomfort at the way things were proceeding.

ME: YOU SET MY FRIEND UP WITH A F**KING STRIPPER?

Charlie continued to put the a la mode on the pie slices for dessert.

CHARLIE: It's not like he's a prostitute.
ME: No, of course not, prostitutes don't come with boomboxes.
CHARLIE: So my friends are a little unusual.
ME: Unusual? You've got two swingers and a stripper in there. Tell me something. When do the juggler and the contortionist show up?
CHARLIE: Don't worry. They'll be here in time for charades!

With that he went back into the dining room.

Dinner carried on as if I wasn't sitting with the cast of Jerry Springer: The Opera.

After dessert we were all sitting around the living room talking.

Well...Charlie, Tommy, Alex, and Peter were talking. Brian and I were sulking.

Peter seemed to be picking up on our sour vibes.

PETER: Brian, can we talk about your feelings towards me being a dancer?
BRIAN: I'd really rather not.
ME: I second that.
PETER: I think if you saw what I actually do you wouldn't think so little of it.
BRIAN: Hey, I'm not judging.
ME: I am.
TOMMY: Well of course, that's your thing.
ME: My thing?

Okay, now it was time to throw down. And it wasn't that I was really judging Peter, I was just in a really bad mood. This was not the crisp adult function I had hoped for.

TOMMY: You judge people. Put labels on them.
ME: What would make you--
TOMMY: Anyway, enough of that. Let's change the subject.
ME: WHAT?

I HATE when an argument is oncoming and people change the subject. It's not like it's going to make the argument go away, it's just going to turn into stress, and then you get an anuerysm and die...

...okay maybe not, but still--agruing is fun!

TOMMY: You know, Charlie, I found this really cool blog the other day.

Uh oh.

CHARLIE: Oh, I never read blogs.
TOMMY: This one was neat. It was all about dating.

That son-of-a-bitch, how did he find that?

TOMMY: A friend sent it to me. Said the guy who writes it sounds like someone I would date.

Well apparently, that's a wide open field.

CHARLIE: Write it down for me, I'll check it out.

So that's where he got the 'label' comment from. I don't label. I just occasionally attach nicknames to people...

...oh come on, Carrie Bradshaw does it! And everybody loves Carrie!

TOMMY: I don't really remember the name of it. It wasn't that funny anyway.

He then shot me a look as if to say "I win, Judge Judy. Now let it go."

So I did.

PETER: You know what, I'm not one of those guys who's ashamed of what I do. I have fun at my job and I make great money.
BRIAN: It's fine, really.
PETER: I think I have an idea of what'll help you come around. Charlie, put some music on.

You have got to be kidding me.

ALEX: Oh yay, naked boy Peter. Ha ha...

Brian leaned over to me and whispered--

BRIAN: Why does this happen every time we hang out?
ME: Because we're homosexuals and God hates us.

The music started. Peter took off his shirt.

ME: ...or maybe He doesn't.

The little striptease was actually quite good-natured, and Peter was wearing regular boxers so it's not like we saw the Hully Gully. Although what we did see wasn't half bad. It seemed to put Brian in better spirits anyway.

I wound up in the kitchen with Charlie doing dishes and such.

CHARLIE: You're mad at me.
ME: No.
CHARLIE: Yes, you are.
ME: Well, yes I am, but I've decided to keep quiet about it like a good little boy.
CHARLIE: I'm sorry, okay? I'm just not used to dating someone as outspoken as you.
ME: Your friends seem pretty outspoken.
CHARLIE: Yes, they are. I'll give you that.
ME: I'm just surprised you're okay with--
CHARLIE: Kevin, it's not who I am, it's who they are.
ME: But they're your friends.
CHARLIE: Are you exactly like your friends?

........well........

Not all of my friends at least.

ME: Do you think a person's friends reflect who they are?
FRIEND: God, I hope not. If I'm like you I'm not going to get laid nearly enough.
ME: Thanks for that.
FRIEND: Kevin, who the hell knows why we're friends with who we're friends with--that shouldn't stop you from seeing Charlie.
ME: He didn't want me to say what I wanted to say.
FRIEND: Personally I think you need someone in your life preventing you from putting your foot in your mouth.
ME: Says the most outspoken person I know.
FRIEND: Look, you wanted to get in a fight with some jerk in an open relationship and make everyone uncomfortable for...for what exactly?
ME: ...To make myself feel better.
FRIEND: Wow, how selfless of you after Charlie put together an entire dinner party in the hopes that maybe you would like his friends and vice versa.
ME: Oh my God. Did you just make a point?
FRIEND: No, I couldn't have--Ewwww!

I called Charlie and apologized for what a brat I was. Then he apologized for not letting me be the bigmouth that I clearly am. Somehow I think this is going to lead to a compromise...it'll least lead to a third date.

In the meantime Peter and Brian are going on their first date sometime this week. I told him he had to give me every detail--which I will in turn pass on to all of you.

Well, come on, that's what friends are for.

Date #16: Association

If there's one thing I don't like about being gay in Rhode Island, it's that all the gay men have dated each other.

I've never been a fan of walking into a club with someone and knowing that half the place has already bedded him.

Call me old-fashioned.

If you want to be an active member of the gay dating scene here in the Ocean State, however, you need to get over that fact...

...Within reason.

Before a second date with Charlie, I decided to call up this cute Italian guy named Vincent that I'd met a few months ago.

(One of the weird things about me is that I need a buffer-just-for-fun-nothing-serious date before a really serious date. Once I get really into a relationship, I usually just freak out before big dates--luckily when you're in a relationship the only big dates left are anniversaries.)

So Vincent and I went to get Tommy's pizza and were having a pretty good time. When I first met him I remember thinking that he didn't seem very deep, but talking to him revealed a really sweet guy who did have some depth to him.

Oh great, I thought, another ball to juggle.

And then the conversation got around to that favorite topic amongst the gays--

Who have we both dated?

It's America's new favorite game, kids--sweeping the nation.

At first it didn't seem like there were any links between us, which I found mighty appealing. In addition to my being turned off by the incestuous nature of Rhode Island Dating, I especially dislike when potential future soulmates have dated failed soulmate from the past.

We had moved past the inter-dating portion of the evening and were walking back to my car when I just happened to mention a name that still brings bile into my throat.

Paul Fields.

...Hold back vomit...

I literally said: Hey, as long as you haven't dated Paul Fields.

To say that I practically gave Vincent whiplash would be an understatement. It was more like I caught him with his dick in the cookie jar.

HIM: You know Paul?

Uh, does Patti Hearst know the SLA?

Paul Fields and I took a creative writing class together during college. You could say he was an uptight, arrogant snob and that would be fine--but you'd be leaving out the part about him also being hideous.

He's one of those gays you wish you could give back to the heteros saying:

Yes, actually, it is a choice, and we gays feel that Paul here has made the wrong choice. Please treat him kindly...if possible.

Paul was one of the largest people I had ever seen, and he seemed to have no qualms about trying to make himself even larger. I can't recall spending more than five minutes in his presence before he'd grab for a Snickers bar and consume it like Jabba the Hut scarfing down an ewok.

DISCLAIMER: I have absolutely nothing against overweight people, nor do I make fun of them just for being overweight, however, if you're an asshole and overweight, then it's fair game. Actually, if you're an asshole, anything's fair game.

In addition to his awful personality and appearance, he didn't have very good hygiene either. The guy used to sweat a river every class while he lambasted other people's stories in the class.
His stories, meanwhile, were all about gay sex.

Don't get me wrong, I love gay erotica written by a sweaty, obnoxious obese man just as much as the next guy, but I'd prefer not to listen to them in a room full of English undergrads trying to come across as being liberal but really just praying for the protagonist to get off and end the whole uncomfortable charade so they can pretend they really liked the similes used in the piece.

Paul's stories went on for what felt like hours.

A paraphrased selection (so I don't get sued in case he ever finds this):

As we lay on the beach in Puerto Viarta, I couldn't help but gaze at his tanned thighs. They reminded me of my time in the leather factory, where I would strip off my shirt in front of all the other strapping workers to show them that I was not ashamed of the soft layer of ashen-colored hair falling over my rippling chest muscles. Often, they would beckon me to the back of the factory, where we would succumb to our inner desires, and make love while the smell of leather nestled in our nostrils.

After Paul's first story, I believe half the class dropped. I only hung in there cause I needed the credits.

Still, I was totally polite to Paul. I only gave him what I considered to be the kindest of constructive criticism.

ME: I really like how you called his chest hair 'ashen.'

What did I get after my first story?

PAUL: I felt it was arcane. I didn't know why I was reading it.

Arcane? Who says 'arcane'? Even amongst English majors who says 'arcane'?

Not to be defeated, and relishing in the free-flowing nature of the creative writing class environment, when I was allowed to give my feedback on the feedback I was given, I responded with:

ME: Now Paul, did you feel it was 'arcane' because nobody got gangbanged behind the tannery?

Needless to say, after that Paul and I didn't get along too well.

And here I was standing in front of Vincent praying that perhaps Paul had just been a co-worker of his or perhaps he had seen him leaving a taco bell with a cow and half a guacamole field under his arm.

From the expression on Vincent's face, I could tell this wasn't going to be my lucky day.

VINCENT: Paul and I dated about a year ago.

I wanted my first question to be--

"And about how long ago did you get off the hallucinogenic drugs?"

But I didn't think it would be appropriate.

We ended up talking--Well, talking may not be the word, more like grilling--I grilled him for an hour trying to figure out why a seemingly normal, sweet, and all-around handsome guy would date Paul Fields, The Fifth Horseman of the Apocalypse.

He didn't really have an answers other than a shrug and a "I just liked him." They apparently dated for about seven months and then it just ended. I would love to say that I was willing to let it rest at that, but the whole thing unnerved me. When Vincent brought up the possibility of a second date, I'm pretty sure I balked--and noticeably so--at the suggestion. I told him I'd call...

...But I sure as hell didn't plan on it.

I had lunch with Brian the following afternoon at the Nordstrom's cafe. Our major topic of conversation was guys--since that's what lunches with gay friends are made for--I brought up The Paul Problem.

BRIAN: So you're seriously thinking of not seeing this guy again just because he dated someone you don't like?

ME: You don't understand. He didn't just 'date someone I don't like.' If I had a religion, Paul Fields would be the Anti-Christ of it.

BRIAN: Yeah, but they're not dating anymore, right?

ME: Brian, Paul's seen him naked. I can't date someone who Paul has seen naked.

BRIAN: This is just like Seinfeld where Jerry won't date this girl because Newman broke up with her.

ME: It's different than that.

BRIAN: How?

ME: It's the gay thing coming into play. I'd prefer it if nobody knew what a guy I was dating was like in bed, but since we live in the smallest state next to Yemen that's impossible. I can, however, have limits, and Paul Fields is outside those limits.

BRIAN: Don't you think this is more of an ego thing? If Paul's had this guy then it somehow lessens his value, which makes him less appealing to you--because he's not as much of a trophy.

ME: Should I lay on the couch now, Dr. Melfi? Or can I continue to eat my chicken?

Okay, so maybe he had a point. There is that situation in the gay dating world where you don't go out with someone "because of association."

Person A dates Person B, and you think Person B has an STD so you stay far away from Person A.

Personally, I see nothing wrong with it.

But when Vincent called the next day and offered up a second date, it was clear that he knew the reason for my refusal.

VINCENT: Is this because I dated Paul?

This is one of those times when I thought honesty was the only fair shake--

I simply said 'Yes.'

I said I didn't want to be with someone who actually thought that someone like Paul was worth their time. That dating someone for an extended period of time means condoning, admiring, and hopefully loving who they are, and I didn't think someone who could care about Paul and everything he was could also care about me. I said that I believe your friends and who you date is an indicator of who you are and/or what you want and where you're going in the world, and that if Paul was any indication, I'm not sure Vincent and I were going toward the same places.

He had a simple yet impressive comeback.

VINCENT: So I guess you've never made mistakes.

Then he told me that for about five years ago he weighed about a hundred pounds more than he does at the moment. He told me that his self-esteem was incredibly low all the time, and that even after he lost the weight, his confidence stayed pretty low. When he met Paul, the kind of guy he thought he deserved was still someone who resembled Paul--full of anger and bitterness. His friends told him he could do better 'now' and he noticed the world 'now' and resented it, because it was as if they were saying before he was skinny he should have dated a prick like Paul if only because they were similar in appearance. So then he dated Paul to prove a point, and then one day it just clicked with him--

--He wasn't proving anything other than that he was being pretty stupid.

VINCENT: So I told Paul I wanted something different for myself and ever since I've only dated guys who reflect what I believe in--but how they look still doesn't mean a damn thing to me.

Guess who felt about five inches tall at that moment?

CLUE: He has a blog.

I asked Vincent if he'd reconsider the second date even though I'd just acted like the prick I accused Paul of being--he said he'd think about it.

FRIEND: So he has FFKS?
ME: Former Fat Kid Syndrome? Yup.

FFKS (Former Fat Kid Syndrome) : A guy/girl loses weight, his/her skin clears up, or he suddenly becomes ridiculousy rich and does a body transfer with Dominic Purcell, but they continue to date someone horrific simply because their expectations don't change.

FRIEND: It's always a shame. That's why I'm glad I was always good-looking. It's kept my expectations high from day one.
ME: Yet you'll fool around with pretty much anyone?
FRIEND: As long as they're cute.
ME: I think I just screwed up a potentially good thing.
FRIEND: Well, it won't be the last time.

I called Charlie that night and scheduled our second date.

So at least I did something right this week.

Smile.

Date #15: The Compromise

"You realize you've turned my life into a soap opera."

I was sitting with Connor in the living room of my apartment listing the grievances I have with him showing up at an ungodly hour to profess his willingness to explore our chances at meaningful--

Oh whatever, he showed up wanting sex.

Apparently he was more than a little drunk, and way more sexually frustrated than I would imagine any guy who looks like him should be.

His actions were most likely going to have several negative effects:

1) It puts the believeability of this blog in jepoardy, since who the hell would believe anyone would do something that romantic/crazy/out-of-the-blue?

2) It gave a bad ending to the seeming perfect (albeit odd) 24-hour date with Charlie.

3) It put my self-control to the test.

I was trying to explain to Connor why it was best that we take things slow.

AKA

I met someone else who might be less crazy than you are, if not as cute, and I can't throw that away until you smarten up a little; otherwise I'll be left with nobody.

Connor responded by sliding his hand down my pants.

The phone rang--of course--I picked it up.

CHARLIE: Hey I got almost all the way home and realized you left your wallet in my car.
ME: My wallet?
CHARLIE: Yeah, remember you put it on the dashboard when we were comparing license photos.
ME: Oh...
CHARLIE: I can come bring it back to you now. It's no trouble.

Silent Scream...

Oh screw it--Aaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!

I successfully convinced Charlie that I could grab the wallet from him the following day, and then maybe after that we could take in a movie. This was while Connor was moving to grab Special-K. I got off the phone and Connor pulled me on top of him.

CONNOR: I'm stronger than you.
ME: In more ways than one.
CONNOR: Just relax.
ME: I can't do this. I just came back from a hook-up. I can't be this slutty.
CONNOR: It doesn't make you a slut. It makes you a normal guy with a healthy sex life.
ME: Doesn't it bother you that I just spent an entire day with someone else?
CONNOR: I'm not the jealous type.
ME: Connor, I can't have meaningless sex with two cute guys in less than forty-eight hours. I'm not Nicole Ritchie!

We settled on cuddling/making out in our underwear.

Hey, life is all about compromise.

I had to cut short plans for a second date with Charlie when I realized I had made plans with Brian to go on a double date.

Normally, I hate group dates of any kind. I think it's the stuff of middle-school days, and how are you supposed to have some of those nice quiet moments with someone if there's five other people around?

But I had never actually been on strictly a double date before, so I thought--why not?

It was sort of odd going with Brian, since he and I had only been on a date a month ago, but since the Scooter/Army Guy incident at his place, we'd become semi-friends. I've now discovered that Brian is terrified of dating.

BRIAN: I'm afraid I'll say something stupid.
ME: Why would you do that?
BRIAN: Cause I say stupid things around cute people.
ME: You never said anything stupid on our date.

...Silence...

ME: I'm going to assume the line's gone dead.

The date was with two best friends--John and Ricky. We all went to the mall and, like true gays, perused the different clothing stores. Ricky and I were getting along pretty well, but definitely not clicking in that special kind of date way. John and Brian were doing better, which made me glad. It was good to see him bouncing back from the Army Guy let-down. Whenever I started to get upset that all I was going to get out of this was a potential friend in Ricky--and maybe in John--I would get a text from either Connor or Charlie and remember that my life has been nothing if not overblessed the last week or so.

We went back to Brian's apartment after leaving the mall. All of us were sitting in the living room watching television when Ricky pulled me into the kitchen to talk.

RICKY: So, I have a question.
ME: Shoot.
RICKY: Would you mind if I asked Brian out?
ME: Huh?
RICKY: I'm just really into him. I mean, you're really cute. But he and I have a lot in common. I really think we could be a really good match.
ME: But how do you think John's going to take that?
RICKY: I'm going to talk to him about it. I just wanted to ask you first.

Hey, give him points for being polite. I told him it was fine, and we went back into the living room where he promptly took John into the kitchen and I gave Brian the run-down.

BRIAN: But I don't like Ricky! I like John!
ME: So just stick with John then. I doubt he'll go for letting Ricky have you anyway.
BRIAN: Yeah, but now things are going to be awkward.
ME: Just bask in the men who desire you, buddy.
BRIAN: Be serious!
ME: Sorry, I think I'm taking on the role of 'witty friend.'

John and Ricky came back in, and Ricky asked to see me in the kitchen again.

This was turning into an episode of Frasier.

RICKY: So John and I figured everything out.
ME: He doesn't mind that you're going to ask Brian out?
RICKY: Not exactly.
ME: What do you mean?
RICKY: He likes Brian a lot, but he likes you too.
ME: Uh...okay.
RICKY: And like I said, I think you're kind of cute.
ME: Uh...okay.
RICKY: So we just figured out a compromise.

Oh Christ...

We went back in the living room to find Brian and John making out. I looked at Ricky to see if he would be upset, but he only smiled and looked at me as if to say--

This was all part of the deal, my friend. Now strip to your skivvies and let's do the many-handed fandango.

I pulled Brian away from John and brought him into--where else--the kitchen. I explained the 'compromise' to Brian. He was horrified of course--

BRIAN: That's awesome!
ME: Are you kidding?
BRIAN: Come on, how often do you get to do stuff with two cute guys?
ME: I just did--in two days no less!

Okay, I've brought it up a lot now, but whatever, how often do I get to brag?

BRIAN: I mean at once!
ME: I can't have sex with one guy, make out witih another in my underwear, and then have group sex all in two days! I'm not a Pussycat Doll!
BRIAN: Just calm down.
ME: Aren't you supposed to be all jittery? I thought this would make you nervous!
BRIAN: No, I'm only nervous when I think people won't like me. This is exactly the opposite.
ME: They want me to be there too!
BRIAN: So?
ME: You're not even attracted to me!
BRIAN: I think you're okay.
ME: Gee, thanks.
BRIAN: Well, it's not like you'll be the only one there.

He might as well have said--

"I'll eat mashed potatos if you put some hot gay naked gravy on them."

At this point, Scooter walked into the kitchen. When we told him there might be a four-way in his living room he immediately begged to be included until Brian ordered him back into his room with threats of telling every one of Scooter's boytoys that he's a bedwetter.

ME: Is he?
BRIAN: Why not? He still sleeps on Ninja Turtle bedsheets.

Brian and I went back into the living room where John and Ricky had positioned themselves on either side of the couch. I sat next to Ricky, and Brian sat down next to John. We made polite chitchat for a bit.

Then John grabbed Brian and started sucking on his neck.

It was pretty much chaos from then on.

Ricky and I kissed. Brian put his hand under John's shirt. I waited for God's lighting to hit us all since we were now most certainly a replica of Sodom before the fall.

But you, my astute readers, probably already know what problems lay ahead.

Let's review.

- Ricky likes Brian, and thinks I'm 'kind of cute.'
- Brian likes John, doesn't like Ricky, and thinks I'm 'okay.'
- John thinks both me and Brian are cute, and is only friends with Ricky although one might assume the two of them have done this before at some point since they came to their plan after about three minutes of deliberation.
- I think this entire thing is going to end in disaster and I currently have Ricky's tongue in my mouth.

Pretty soon, we looked like a gay Rubik's cube. Ricky was trying to get to Brian, Brian was trying to put John between him and Ricky, John was just grabbing at whatever he could, and I somehow got bumped off to the side.

After a minute or so of this, we all just sort of sat back and looked at each other the way a group of boys will after a spur-of-the-moment fistfight.

We were all kind of ashamed of ourselves and also really turned on, but clearly, going nowhere.

I decided to break from the group and go somewhere I could cool down.

Knock Knock

SCOOTER: Three men can't do the job of one Scooter, huh?
ME: Yeah, something like that.

I hung out with Scooter in his room for a little while. He played some video game while I checked my mail on his laptop. After awhile Brian appeared.

He informed me that they left looking pretty sheepish. He conceded that the four-way attempt was probably a bad idea, but he also confessed that he was going to try going out with Ricky sometime later in the week.

ME: Why?
BRIAN: (Shrugs.) Why not?

That should be the dating mantra of the gay community--Why not?

ME: Maybe four people was just too many. I mean, three-ways are supposed to be difficult enough, so four-ways--
FRIEND: Please, try a seven-way then come back and whine to me.
ME: Somehow I knew you were the wrong person to have this conversation with, you know that?
FRIEND: You all just needed better planning.
ME: Isn't the point of something like that the spontaneity of it?
FRIEND: Are you kidding? I would have diagrammed that whole thing out hours beforehand.
ME: Well, I think this pretty much kills me and Brian's newly minted friendship.
FRIEND: Relax. Nothing brings people closer together than almost screwing.

...That and Hallmark cards.

I need to go call Charlie back. After this little debacle, I think I'm going to need a nice, mellow second date.

After all, I'd now dealt with sex, cuddling, a failed four-way, and Scooter.

Give me a break, I'm not Carmen Electra.

Date #14: The 24-Hr Hook-up

This date takes place between the hours of 7:45pm on Saturday and 2:00am early Monday morning...Beep...Beep...Beep...

So it was supposed to be simple:

1) Have sex with a guy.

See, only one item on the list, not difficult.

Unless you're me.

I was house-sitting for my parents this weekend (they've been vacationing more than the Kennedys lately) and I figured this was the perfect time to have my meaningless fling.

I called one of my Missers--not Misters, Missers--a guy who I kept meaning to hang out with a bunch of times, kept missing due to scheduling conflicts or phone tag, and then finally just stopped calling. Missers are great back-ups for situations like these.

I put on a t-shirt that could have fit a newborn and jeans so tight I looked like a really gay Batman villain.

It's...THE SPARKLER!

After some hair gel, cologne, and everything short of a mating dance and a Barry White album playing in the background, I was ready to go.

Charlie showed up at 7:45pm. I had him come in while I finished prepping. (I saw on Oprah once that a good way to put someone at ease is to finish getting ready before you actually depart on the date. Although, I don't know why I was bothering since this wasn't supposed to be much of a date.)

We went to a restaurant on Thayer street and had a great conversation. He was actually a really great guy. I was wondering why he had been a Misser for so long. He was very sardonic, cute, and had a dry sense of humor mixed with a sense of guardedness that made him seem like he was hesistant to let you in, but slowly doing so anyway. It was an interesting combo.

I felt, at that point, that it was only fair to give full disclosure.

ME: Listen Charlie, I really think you're a great guy, but I'm really looking for something specific here.
CHARLIE: Oh really? What's that?
ME: Sex.
CHARLIE: I'm sorry?
ME: Kind of a fling.
CHARLIE: So should I ask for the check now?

We finished dinner and went back to my house.

...................................................................................

And that's all you're getting.

But in anticipation of all your questions, I can only say--

Yeah, yeah, and yup yup.

We woke up and Charlie asked me if he could take me out to breakfast. Now, at this point I'm pretty sure he was just supposed to do up his cufflinks, kiss me on the forehead, tell me it's been great, than throw his trench coat over his shoulder and slam the motel door behind him.

(Can you tell I'm a noir fan?)

ME: Sure, breakfast would be great.

We went to this little diner where we talked some more...

...And then we went to Barnes and Noble. He read magazines while I read the latest Neil Labute play...

...Then he came back to my parent's house with me to walk the dog...

...And then we went food shopping at the supermarket...

...Then went back to his house where he made me dinner...

...And then we hung out and watched television...

It is now well past 7:45pm on Sunday night. My friends are texting like crazy.

- Where are you?
- Are you still on that date?
- How was the sex?
- Are you dead?
- How long does it take to have sex?
- Are you okay?
- Should I call the cops?
- You realize you're going on 24 hours right?
- You better not write about the sex using nothing but a series of dots.

We ended up hanging out until around 2am when he brought me home. I closed the door to my apartment behind me and thought--

WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?

I just spent over 24 hours with the same guy and enjoyed every single minute of it. Granted at around Hour 20 the back of my psyche started to go--

WARNING! WARNING! EMOTIONAL ATTACHMENT INCOMING!

But I kind of think he liked me too...

FRIEND: What about 'just have sex' wasn't clear to you?
ME: It's not like 'that' didn't happen.
FRIEND: Yeah, but 'that' was like a tenth of the date.
ME: Well, what was I supposed to do?
FRIEND: You're supposed to trip his light fantastic and then the let screen door bang him just like you did.
ME: Super classy as usual.
FRIEND: Scooter was right. You went looking for sex and found something substantial.
ME: Don't ever say that again.
FRIEND: What?
ME: Scooter was right.

Of course, nothing could go that easy right?

I woke up at 3:30am to the sound of my cell phone vibrating. What's the point of vibrate if it can actually wake you from sleep?

It was Connor.

ME: Hello?
CONNOR: Look out your window.

I did...and there he was.

I almost dropped the phone.

ME: Are you drunk?
CONNOR: Yes.
ME: And you drove here?
CONNOR: I actually walked here from the club. You may need to give me a ride back home tomorrow.
ME: Tomorrow?
CONNOR: Yeah, I think it's time I stepped up to the plate.

Oh Christ...

CONNOR: What do you think?

I think Keifer Sutherland has it easy.