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.