I don't understand. I do everything I'm supposed to do: I eat right, I exercise, I hit the gay bars every couple of weeks, and yet... BITCH CAN'T GET A DATE. >_< Don't get me wrong, I get a little side action once in a blue moon (chest massage, squeeze a left nut, whatever), but that's not something you can build a life on.
Believe it or not, I am a closet romantic, and while I do have an extremely healthy sexual appetite, at this stage in my life, what I really want is a committed long-term-ish relationship. By no means am in a rush to go out and buy HIS & HIS towels or hire a commitment ceremony planner... I just want a fun-loving steady fella with a minimal amount of baggage. Is that SO much to ask?
ORIGIN STORY
As embarrassing as it is, I'll reveal my silent shame: I ♥ Online Dating. That's right, I said it! :P Online dating is tailor-made for a picky obsessive-compulsive perfectionist like myself:
it's easy, it's convenient, and in the words of Hal Sparks, "Nobody ever got genital warts from a chatroom!" It's an excellent way to weed out the unfuckables right off the bat and search for guys based on your own dating criteria... it has taught me to be more flexible with my standards. But on the other hand, if I'm gonna spend days/weeks/months on the computer boyfriend-shopping, I'm gonna compare all the merchandise and find the best possible match.I inadvertently joined my first dating site, OKCupid, back in 2004. I was a senior in high school and at the time, the site was much more famous for its extensive amount of user-created personality tests than its matchmaking abilities. Back then, online dating was something you did with the lights off and a blanket over your head. Membership was EXTREMELY low, so Good Luck finding a potential mate within a 100-mile radius.
MY DATING DIAGNOSISJust for the hell of it, one of the first tests I ever took was the "OKCupid Dating Personality Test." Since I'm constantly evolving, I try to update my results every year, and my most up-to-date result is...
THE POOLBOY.
Description is as follows: A teen at heart, you anxiously move about your daily tasks, hoping, praying for a good, instant lay. You’re carefree, enthusiastic, and rarely discouraged. Love is cool, but it’s not for you right now. You know what is? Crotches. You’re a fun person in both big and small groups, and your friends trust and love you. Inside you, meanwhile, your lust is only growing. Imagine your beating heart sprouting pubic hair. Exactly. Try shaving that. If you’re not scoring enough—which you aren’t—you should adopt new strategies. Lower your standards. Be aggressive. Pool Boys are often submissive and hope (desperately) sex will find them. Realize that passiveness will not hook the horny guys you desire. A bolder approach and sheer repetition will.
HARSH. I'm not that horny, I swear! And when it comes to relationships, I'm anything but submissive, Thank You. :P
PUTTING YOURSELF OUT THERE
Online dating sites are all about selling yourself, and what better way of hanging a big gay OPEN FOR BUSINESS sign around your neck then with a skanktacular profile, complete with photos hot enough to fog up any computer screen? I don't know why, but whenever I express myself artistically, I often come off as an extroverted sexpot. I've never understood it. Ever since middle school when I started dancing in public, it's like I un-corked some kind of SEX MONSTER; after every performance, I always had adoring fans--girls and guys (mostly straight)--calling me "sexy." When it comes to writing, dancing, filmmaking, what-have-you, I'm always uninhibited and out to create some kick-ass art.
ONLINE SUITORS
Typically, with that sort of behavior, you don't stay single for long, and Believe Me, I have been beating the 40-year-olds off with a stick since Day One. *gag* But when you're looking for more than what you've experienced in the past, when you screen potential mates extensively before even giving them your phone number, and when you refuse to meet anyone from the internet without feeling 120% comfortable doing so, you might as well check into a monastery!
For six long years, I've perused the pages of OKCupid and have literally rejected over 600 guys after viewing their profiles. So far, I've genuinely connected with roughly a dozen people, and those have all occurred in the past 2 years.Among the top contenders who I've actually engaged in conversation have been the latino dance choreographer, the teenage Warlock, the pro wrestling fetishist, and an FTM teenage drag queen (who actually wanted to go on a date with my drag alter ego, Janine). Unfortunately, I am the son of my parents, and as such, I'm extremely paranoid and have a tendency to catastrophize any given situation. More often than not, after having deep conversations with people, I start looking at their answers to OKCupid's Match Questions (usually about politics, religion, sex, relationships) and find something I don't like. And once I've found something I don't like, I immediately nip it in the bud, gently let the guy down, and move on. On the bright side, I get to have stimulating conversation with interesting guys without having to shave my belly hair or put in my contact lenses; plus, you can never have too many images in your Spank Bank. ;-)
I'VE MET SOMEONE
Lo and behold, after years of finding something wrong with EVERYBODY, I randomly receive a message in my inbox, from a cute LOCAL 20-year-old. I'm shocked because he describes himself as a shy guy... and yet he made the first move--That takes fuckin' BALLS. Of course, I'm extremely flattered that he would take such a risk by approaching me, and after a day of letting him sweat it out, I send a detailed response.
Every night for the rest of the week, Jared and I have 3-hour conversations, in which we discuss life and love. I know we're in trouble when we've exchanged over 400 text messages in under 2 weeks, about 380 more than I usually send in a month. Needless to say, within days, I'm YEARNING to meet him in real life... something I've never experienced with any other guy before. We set a date, in three weeks, because my social calendar is booked solid this season.
THE BIG DAY
Three weeks later, the big day has arrived: Saturday, September 25th. I get off work around 3:00, we've made plans to find a moderately-priced French restaurant off Dupont Circle, and I'm just staring at my watch with a ridiculous grin on my face all day. On my way home, I get a new text message; Jared's younger brother has fallen ill and he has to babysit. Awww, I totally understand, how old is the poor thing? "He's 17... but he acts like he's 12!" Seventeen? That's practically a grown man, he can watch himself! Once I'm done reassuring him that it's OK that we have to reschedule for tomorrow, I hang up, call my girls, and go see Easy A at the multiplex.
Sunday rolls around and I plan on meeting him in D.C. around 4-ish. Surprise-Surprise, his orientation at H&M ended THREE HOURS EARLY and now he's stranded at a Starbucks downtown. Upon hearing this, I immediately hose myself off, make myself presentable, and hop into my convertible, traces of shampoo streaming down my ears. After flooring it down 83, I finally reach downtown with time to spare. What I didn't count on was the COMPLETE AND UTTER LACK OF PARKING in the city. It's insane! I can't find a parking garage, all the empty spaces are either bus stops or fire hydrant zones.
After literally 45 minutes spent driving circles around the city, I finally find a huge underground "Event Parking" garage for $8 an hour. I park the car, call Jared, step into the elevator, and once the doors open, I find myself inside a high-security government agency! Somehow, I've slipped past the armed guards and the metal detectors, and I'm just wandering around aimlessly.
Immediately, I put away the cell phone, ready to throw my hands in the air and scream, "Don't Shoot! I'm not a terrorist!" Once the security guards have finally taken mercy on me and have shown me the exit, I turn around and catch sight of the address: 1300 PENNSYLVANIA AVENUE. WoW, it's a good thing the elevator stopped at the International Trade Center and not the goddamn Oval Office... as undoubtedly cool as that would be. Outside, I call Jared again and since he's walking around, we're gonna try and meet halfway. Of all the luck, my keen sense of direction finally kicks in and within minutes, I hear him say, "I see you." Blushing, I see him on the opposite side of the street, we make our way to the crosswalk and I strut my way over to him. My breath is taken away because it's so good to finally see him in-the-flesh; as hot as his pictures were, in-person he's much more physically appealing than I imagined.
We briefly drop by another Starbucks (he's a Rewards Card carrier) for some chit-chat, and then we go pick up the car: Don't think I forgot that damn parking garage was charging me an $8 hourly rate. *sassy gay finger* I whisk him away to Dupont Circle, where I find the tightest parallel parking space ever... I made it in and nobody lost a headlight, so all is good.
To tell you the truth, while promenading around the District, I find myself... losing more and more interest in him. As a Political Science major, all he talks about is local and national politics... big mistake on a first date. He's a HUGE Hillary Clinton supporter and constantly belittles President Obama. It gives me flashbacks to when I went canvassing door-to-door for Barack Obama's campaign back in Gettysburg, and that fuckin' French frog pulled me into his house and wanted to debate me on why Obama would do a better job than Hillary. I don't hate Hillary--in fact, she and Obama have very similar political views--I just don't like or respect her, especially with her mudslinging campaign... That sort of behavior should not be rewarded with the Presidency.
The topic of past lovers also rears its ugly head, and while it's fun to trade war stories, it really turns our lunch date into a divalicious meet-and-greet with zero intimacy. To make matters worse, we end up at the WRONG Cosi restaurant, thanks to his crappy cell phone GPS; instead of the romantic open-air cafe with balcony seating, we're at the carryout location. It's like a French SUBWAY sandwich shop. EW.
We cozy up in a booth, watch some funny YouTube videos, and talk some more, as we are the two slowest eaters in the world. He regales me with stories of his friends back home in Michigan. The evening reaches an ultimate low when he shares with me one of his favorite pastimes: he and his friend, who works at Abercrombie, bark loudly whenever they're around "ugly" people. That is SO mean. And that's when I say to him half-jokingly, "You're a horrible person."
We head out, listening to Lady GaGa all the way home, I drop him off, he says that we should go out clubbing next weekend (I'm busy but RAIN CHECK), we hug, and I bid him Adieu. We cap off the night by text messaging our reactions during the season premiere of Desperate Housewives.
Yeah... I think it's safe to say I should keep looking! XD
With her newest album, Katy does a marvelous job of paying tribute to the ideas of Hollywood fantasy and hormone-driven teenage love/lust.
Katy wakes from her "Teenage Dream" with two of my favorite tracks off the album, "Pearl" and "Not Like The Movies." "Pearl" is a ballad so sad that it literally makes me want to cry, because so many times, I've seen my friends change when they start dating someone. It's a lament about wasted potential: "She is a pyramid / But with him she's just a grain of sand / This love's too strong like Mice & Men / Squeezing out the life that she'd be leading." And finally, "Not Like The Movies" once again pays tribute to the idealistic and unrealistic concept of Hollywood romance, "cinematic and dramatic with the perfect ending."