Date #70: A Form of Flattery

It wasn't until after the date that I found it.

Wes and I had a so-so date, but nothing to write home about. I was actually a little worried that I'd have absolutely nothing to say about it as he's your typical, run-of-the-mill gay guy. Nice enough, smart enough, sociable enough...

There might have been a second date, but while I was considering it I stumbled across a link in his AIM profile.

I clicked on it.

And guess what came up.

ME: Wes and the Boys: A Dating Story.
SCOOTER: He's writing a book?
ME: He's writing a blog.

I decided to take Scooter to the N.C. after Brian got called into work at the last minute. It ended up working out better anyway since I wouldn't be able to discuss my shock at seeing that I had a copycat out there.

ME: And what's worse--I'm in it.
SCOOTER: What does he say about you?
ME: He says I'm nothing special.
SCOOTER: What are you going to say about him in your blog?
ME: Pretty much the same.
SCOOTER: So that's fair, right?

Well--No! He's a giant copycat!

SCOOTER: Kevin, do you think he found your blog and decided to make his own?
ME: No, but...he should have told me--
SCOOTER: Told you what? That you were going to be in his blog? Did you tell him he was going to be in yours?
ME: Stop making good points!

The truth is, I was a little miffed and I couldn't figure out why. It's not like I'm the first person to think up an idea like this. It's just that this guy seemed to have my style and structure in addition to everything else.

He starts each entry with a convo between him and his friend about some topic, then he relates that to the date he's been on, he throws in a bit about an ex or another one of his friends, and then he closes it out with a humorous conversation with...his cat. He imagines what his cat would say about his dating life if it could talk. All the cat needs to do is develop a dependency on alcohol and wear tight, tiny underwear and it'd be Friend.

SCOOTER: Next you're going to tell me I can't write my blog anymore.
ME: I've read your blog. I don't feel threatened.
SCOOTER: Why not?
ME: Because your blog reads like a gay pornography magazine. You don't even go on dates. It's all about who you've hooked up with.
SCOOTER: I have a loyal readership.
ME: Of whom? Gay frat boys and dirty old men?
SCOOTER: It's a desirable demographic.

I decided to take matters into my own hands. This guy was copying my blog. I couldn't figure out how, but he was. I decided to call him.

ME: Hey Wes, how's it going?
WES: Great, Kev. Thanks for the other night.
ME: Oh, no problem. Hey listen, I found that link in your AIM profile--
WES: Oh my gosh, did that offend you? I'm sorry. I was just being honest. I think you're a great guy but I just didn't feel we clicked.
ME: That's exactly how I felt. No hard feelings.
WES: Great.
ME: Yeah, that's actually not what I was calling about though. I noticed that you have that little dating blog going on--
WES: Oh that. It's just this thing I do.
ME: Gotcha. Um, the thing is--and I don't know if you noticed this, but, I have a blog--
WES: Right.
ME: And...you know about it?
WES: Yeah. I found after you asked me out. I would have said something but I thought it would have been a little awkward.
ME: Uh huh. And do you feel your blog is a little...similar to mine?
WES: I guess, maybe, it might be.

Just like "Ice Ice Baby" might be "Pressure" except for that extra "ding" in "ding ding ding ding dinga ding ding."

ME: The cat?
WES: What about the cat?
ME: That's Friend.
WES: You think the cat is friend?
ME: It clearly is Friend!
WES: The cat is not Friend.
ME: Wes, come on.
WES: You know what? I'm kind of through with this conversation.
ME: Could you just stop?
WES: Stop what?
ME: You can write your own blog if you want, but just stop copying my style.
WES: Wow, I'm not even going to get into the ethical discussion this could merit, so suffice it to say, No.

With that, he hung up.

ME: What a dickhead!

After getting thoroughly pissed off, I called Scooter, who instructed me to go to his gym with him where I could practice getting my aggression out on a punching bag.

SCOOTER: You should read my latest entry. I bagged this super hot--
ME: Not the time, Scooter!

I imagined the punching bag to be Wes--

SCOOTER: That's good, Kev.

--Then it was a cat spewing one-liners.

SCOOTER: Wow, real good.

Then something hit me.

ME: There's really nothing special about it, is there?
SCOOTER: What?
ME: The blog. I thought maybe I was doing something worthwhile.
SCOOTER: You are--to you.
ME: Terrific.
SCOOTER: And to me I love reading it. I don't have any interest in some knock-off blog where the guy can't spell.
ME: Huh?
SCOOTER: His blog has tons of spelling mistakes in it. That annoys the fuck out of me.
ME: It does?
SCOOTER: Good spelling is very important to me.

You learn something new every day.

SCOOTER: Kevin, who cares who reads this blog or who doesn't? It's supposed to be about you. Making you a better person, right?
ME: Yeah. I guess I just lose sight of that every once in awhile.
SCOOTER: Then keep your eye on the ball.

So I did, but I ended up missing and hitting Scooter in the face instead.

ME: Oh my God!
SCOOTER: Holy f**k, you sucker punched me!
ME: You were standing too close.
SCOOTER: Geez, I feel bad for this kid. If this is what you do to your friends--

At the end of the day, you're another day older.
And that's all you can say for the life of the poor.

I don't know why, I just felt like inserting poignant Les Miz lyrics there.

Scooter was probably onto something. I need to do this for myself, and not worry about whether or not someone else is trying to copy me.

FRIEND: F**k that, I know people. I'll have this boy taken care of.
ME: It's not worth it.
FRIEND: A cat? A f**king cat? I don't do pussy.
ME: Not to bang my own drum, but I'm reading some back entries here and it's...not good.
FRIEND: Of course not. Rip-off's suck. They were the death of reality television and the Jennifer Anniston hairdo.
ME: From now on, I'm just writing this blog for me. Whether a date's interesting or not I'm just going to write it and not worry about whether or not other people will enjoy reading it.
FRIEND: Excuse me? You have ratings to think about. They're sending us up against The Amazing Race.
ME: Then I'm not worried.

Okay, so I won't totally abandon my structure or style.

And who knows? Maybe I'll get a talking cat of my own.

FRIEND: Do that, and I'm moving to CBS and taking that role on How I Met Your Mother.