Three dates, three downers.
This is the first of a three part series describing triple disappointments in dating, and asking the question we all ask ourselves… “Is it me?”
Note: graphic language, brutal honesty, a true dispatch from the gayborhood.
Date #3:
The next day, I was at Barnes and Noble looking for my favorite gay author, Brad Gooch’s new self-help dating book. Lord knows I needed it. As I perused the aisles, a cute, twenty-something, preppy boy caught my eye in the American Literature section. I walked by to go sit in the café. Apparently, I had caught his eye as well because he soon followed. While in line, I noticed the copy of Harry Potter and the Sorcerers Stone in his hand. I rolled my eyes. I must not have been too discreet.
“You’re not into J.K. Rowling,” he inquired.
“Sorry,” I recovered. “Not especially. I prefer non-fiction.”
He glanced at the book in my grasp.
“Gooch, huh,” he questioned sarcastically, smiling.
“He’s actually a really great writer. He writes about personal experiences in the gay dating pool.”
“Yeah,” he questioned, interested. “But his name is Gooch.”
We smiled. And he invited me to sit down. We took our coffees to a table and continued our conversation. It seemed to be going great until he took it into a whole new direction.
“So, what’re you into?”
Trying to clarify, “What do you mean?”
“Well, I’m into vanilla to medium kink.”
Not wanting to be a total wet blanket, and having no idea what that meant, I asked, “What does that entail?”
He leaned in and whispered, “I’d love to see you pee on me.”
Oh, my God. “I’m afraid I can’t do that,” I said shocked but trying to keep a smile on my face.
“O.K.,” he insisted. “Will you come out to my car and get naked. I’d love to give you head.”
I had to admit I was more willing to do that. But still I declined.
“How about a bathroom stall?”
“Um, I don’t think so.”
Having had enough, I smiled politely, stood up and walked out. As I drove home, I wondered when the hell did I get so out of the loop? And what happened to the gay men of this day and age? Or has it always been like this and I’m just getting old? In the end, I realized sometimes it’s nice to know you still have a bit of naivety.
