I Think I Can

Attention everyone! If you loved Choose Your Own Adventure Blog, then you will also love Choose Your Own Adventure OKCupid Profile that I made because my stupid friend told me to.

Of course it hasn't attracted anybody at all. I've gotten 4 messages, but they are all from people I already know. On the plus side I am reconnecting next week with the very first person I ever hung out with when I moved to New York. (Hi, Brian! Don't forget! Love, Brian)

I haven't slept in three nights so if I throw up coffee all over you right now don't be offended. Speaking of coffee... cans... made into other things, Liz at work and I made a new tip jar for the dudes at the little restaurant next door where we get breakfast every morning. Apparently the cheap-ass students at the community college and the cheap-ass librarians here don't give them much in the way of gratuity, but part of the problem is that their old tip jar was stupid. So ok here look at these shitty iPhone pictures.

I did the drawing parts and Liz did the contact paper and layout parts. Anyway apparently it is such an awesome tip jar that one of the asshole college kids walked away with it the first day it was out (Whitney believes the children are our future) so now it's tied to the counter with a rope. Because this is the sort of place I work now.

B

Hi ok so I'm going to tell you about the boy I am dating due to the ungodly amount of pressure he is putting on me (i.e. asking once while we were drunk when he makes it into my blog.)

Usually people don't ever make it into my blog (at least not early on) until something funny happens in which they are a major player, and I suppose one such occasion has presented itself. Basically the first night I came back to his place, his temp roommate was there sleeping in his bed and so we woke him up and then fast forward 3 minutes and my boy goes into the bathroom and I try to impress his dog with my charisma and spunk and wind up flat on my stomach on the floor with a major headache and bleeding from the chin right in front of the temp roommate, who makes no offer to help and just kinda stands there. It was embarassing and horrible. I didn't tell you about it for that reason.

But right, back to it, basically I don't talk about love life stuff here but... well he's nice and I like him and his face smelled really good today for some reason. Also I kinda owe it to him since in the space of like 2 weeks, I've gotten over $50 of free delicious chocolate products, not to mention lunch today, the promise of many home-cooked meals, a ticket to the Tony's, and a possible future almost free vacation to the British Isles barring swine flu, uncomfortable personal revelations, or the unlikely event of severe sexual incompatibility. So even though I have a long history of collecting free swag from even the most insignificant liaisons, the amount of sugar I have consumed makes me think the least I can do is tell you his name, which is B. Sweet B.

Ok so obviously his name is B only as much as The Architect's name is The Architect, which is not at all, but that's what you get.

Sweet B because his job is pretty much "culinary tour guide", or more specifically "guy who gives chocolate tours of New York and teaches people stuff about the history of the places and how everything is made and blahdee blah blah blah." I imagine people eat a lot of chocolate on these tours too. Maybe I should call him Dia-B-tes.

Anyway here he is with his walleyed dog Vernon, the one I failed to impress:

His walleyed dog Vernon is named Vernon like Vernon Dursley from Harry Potter so we like that. Also, B wants to learn things from me, and the things he wants to learn about are opera and Buffy the Vampire Slayer, which are the only things I know how to talk about anyway.

Right and he's from the south and kinda short and kinda smiley and he has awesome friends (so far) except for that one and he'll do stuff like make homemade dumplings for no reason at all, just to eat them it's so weird.

Right so there you have it: your incoherent and entirely uninformative character profile of Sweet B. The moral of the story is we're dating the end.

Like, a lot. The end.

Unoriginal Whiny Gay Blogger Crap Based on Sweeping Stereotypes, Canned Emotions, and a Severely Limited Homosexual Worldview: My Annual Allotment

In Which I Am Deluded Enough to Believe I Am Different From Everyone Else

The results of my poll have been overwhelming. Of one participant (so far) 100% of responses indicate that indeed everyone in New York City is an emotional fuckjob.... at least among gay men, which is pretty much what I meant.

As it turns out, if you're not a loser with no future, then you're a crazy workaholic who only has time for a little after-hours bump-n-grind as long as you're up for your conference call. If you're not falling in love with everyone you meet at the drop of a hat, then you can't commit to more than a "you seem cool" because you're seeing three other guys.

You've all dealt with this. Then, FINALLY, you find someone who wants to properly date, but after going out a couple times, oh it turns out they have GROSS emotional problems and run away or smack you (true story) or otherwise make you wish they didn't exist. What the hell is everybody's problem? Sex and the City was supposed to be fiction, people!

Look, I know not every guy I meet is going to be a candidate for Mr. Righthood. I have no problem with a one-night stand or a shallow, just-for-fun relationship because sometimes that's all that something's gonna be. It takes all types, right? Those things are fine as long as it's established (even non-verbally) that that's all the relationship is. But doesn't anybody want to try out the long-haul thing?

Let me rephrase that. Doesn't anybody my age who's not socially deficient want to try the long-haul thing? Because I've met enough internet-trolling basement dwellers taking their monthly break from World of Warcraft to try and cast Lvl 16 Romance on me to last a lifetime. (...said the member of the NYC Buffy the Vampire Slayer Fanclub.)

I'm also well aware that some people are just not into me. I mean, fine, we go on a date, you change your mind. Whatever. But sometimes, GOD, can't people smell chemistry? If we spend an awesome evening together doing dinner and drinks and walking without a break in the lively conversation and then go home and spend an even more lively night together... WHY not call me back? But, fine. If we spend all week together fawning and gazing and being more comfortable than we've ever felt with someone so early on in a relationship, why suddenly stand me up with no explanation?

It's a matter of respect. That's what I'm upset about here. If you don't want to be with me, ok, but don't put on a show. Don't act all perfect gentleman on our first couple dates only to call me a couple days later asking to come over and fuck. Don't just disappear without a trace when it's clear we owe each other more than that. Don't pretend I'm the only person you're seeing if all you want to do is casually date a few people. I won't care! I won't care until I get invested, and I'll only get invested if I think you are.

Since I moved to this city, I've dated exactly two people who I was into and who were relationship-oriented, level-headed, and respectful. I remain friends with both of them. They didn't work out, but you'll never catch me bitching about them. Everyone else I find myself liking has played some sort of game that involved not being up-front with me. And I'm tired.

Template: "I like your _______." Easy!

I'm just gonna come out and be honest about it. I've had a fair number of admirers in my life.

By no means do I think I'm some drop-dead gorgeous hot commodity or anything, but every now and then, there's a guy who digs me. Hooray, right? Most of them are about 1,000, but it's still good for the ol' ego to hear now and then that people appreciate me.

For a long time, I wasn't able to take a compliment from anyone. Tell me you like my eyes, and I'd look away. Admire my hair, and my hand went up there to fix it. It's a messy combination of shyness and lack of self-confidence that we won't get into because I'm over it. Or if I'm not over it, at least I've learned to be gracious about it.

But one thing people constantly say to me with the best intentions always makes me totally uncomfortable. There isn't one graceful response, I don't find it the least bit flattering, and it makes me instantly dismiss any prospect of dating a guy who says it.

It has many variations, but the gist of it is: "Wow, you're so smart/fun/sexy/faaaabulous/neat WHY DON'T YOU HAVE A BOYFRIEND?"

I know. They're being nice and saying I deserve a wonderful guy. But it sounds like they're trying to figure out what's secretly wrong with me. And what they're REALLY making me think--rather than "Oh, that's so sweet"--is the answer to that question, which is "I have no idea, why don't you ask all the guys that reject me?" or "Well, I've had a couple, but my gross emotional problems preclude the sustainment of anything lasting."

I used to respond with something awkward to try and communicate how their question wasn't really flattering at all like "Because I am afraid to love" or "I am shy and lack self-confidence, so I am unable to accept when people like me and eventually drive them away with my depression and social anxiety," but then people started thinking they'd be my Saving Grace Fucking Messiah Of My Heart, so I had to stop that.

I mean, hell, even agreeing with the question makes me sound like a self-righteous asshole. "Oh, I dunno, I mean you're right, I am after all practically perfect in every way; it's a wonder people are too thick to figure out that I'm the man for them." The only proper answers are "Thank you" and "I don't know" but they're both lies because I'm NOT grateful and I DO know. It drives me nuts.

So, yeah, I'm enough of an asshole that I just wrote an entire blog entry complaining of how people compliment me. But please, you can't tell me I'm wrong. That's an awkward thing to say! So never say it to me, ok? Just pick a feature and tell me you like it. Don't try to delve into my torrid relationship history and drudge up memories of failed romance. It's not the way to get me going.

Get up, Stand up

Yeah, I was stood up last night.

Dinner was supposed to be at 8, right, and we confirmed this when we spoke on the phone at 7. I got there early and waited and waited and waited and called and waited and at 8:30, I left a message "It's Scott. It's 8:30. I'm going home."

Oh, and I don't know if you noticed, but it was freezing outside last night. People were passing me by, and some of them passed me a second time thinking "I bet that loser got stood up."

I don't feel bad about myself, it's not like this was some hot date with a gorgeous muffin I've been in love with since the third grade (Billy, if you're out there, I still love you!). Plus, he asked me out, so it's not like he thinks I'm boring or stupid or unattractive. (He'd be wrong if he did.)

But you just don't stand people up, am I right? I don't care if your puppy died. I don't care if a hideous alien fetus just busted through your father's ribcage and you need to hurry over and apologize for never being the type of son he wanted. Send me a freaking text message, it takes two seconds: "Cn't makf it, sry." Don't leave me standing there until my toes fall off.

There's a chance he may have fallen asleep because he had been travelling earlier in the day, but bitch, that doesn't cut it either! First of all, rude. Second of all, it's been 20 hours! You're awake by now so apologize.

Once again, it's a fucking lawyer that ends up being a total dickhead to me. You'd think I'd have caught on by now. I've gone out with 6 lawyers this past year. Four of them have managed to seriously piss me off. The other two were European (a Brit and a Greek), and I'm guessing this is no coincidence. My lawyer friend in CT has warned me for the past 3 years "Don't date lawyers we all suck" and I'm gonna start listening.

...but they make so much money...

UGH, whatever, screw you all. I'll find a Jewish doctor. Are you happy now, mom?