One of the good things about being single is that you have more time to catch up on some quality time with old friends. I was out with my friend, Tim at our regular gay, late night diner. I vented and chain-smoked, while he perused the boys.
“So, have you been seeing anyone special?” Tim inquired.
“Um, no,” I replied. “But I have been seeing quite a few ignorant, creepy, vain, rude, and egocentric guys.”
Tim laughed. “Yea. I hear ya.”
“I’m on strike,” I announced.
“What?” Tim was obviously not paying attention as he waved at someone behind me.
“Until the conditions improve in the dating field, I’m on strike,” I confirmed, glancing over Tim’s shoulder to see an elderly gentlemen in a leather vest, with a hairy chest, checking me out. I raised one eyebrow. As if.
“Who’s that going to affect?” he asked sarcastically.
“So far, I’m the only one, but I’m optimistic.” I laughed. Tim gave me one of his doubting looks…
I had turned singledom into my very own comedy routine. And why not? If you don’t laugh about yourself and the dating pool, you’ll never survive. At the same moment, I heard an echoing laughter. I looked up to see an attractive, twenty-something guy standing at the host stand, waiting to be seated. Tim invited him to sit down next to him, of course. He said his name was Bryant, and Tim began vying for him.
The thing you need to know about Tim is that he’s a great guy, good-looking, intelligent, but fails to see that himself and so he goes for his sex appeal, which…he lacks, to be blunt. He tries too hard and ends up coming off extremely “flamey” and desperate.
I watched as he tried his best to hook Bryant, but only succeeded in making him uncomfortable, especially when Tim stretched his arm behind Bryant. I watched in pain for the both of them. Luckily, Tim had to go to the bathroom and excused himself. Bryant subtly relocated to my side of the booth.
Putting my journalistic skills to work, I found out that he was a successful international sales manager for a Fortune 100 company, was the lead singer for his own band and had just moved into town from Texas. He didn’t know too many people and asked me if I would show him what the “big city” had to offer.
I listened attentively, but couldn’t help but get caught up in his piercing blue eyes, which stood out from his dark features and coffee colored hair. Ok. He’s successful, stunningly good-looking, a musician and apparently asking me out. Wow! To hell with my strike. When Tim returned and Bryant stepped away to make a phone call, I looked at Tim and said, “He’s mine.”
“Ok,” he replied without argument, shrugging. “He seems boring anyway.”
I smirked self-assuredly.
Was I actually breaking my streak of bad dates & bad boyfriends? Find out in the next installment of “Fire Down Below.”
