Fag Hag

Don't get me wrong, I love a gay man. Probably too much. One of my very close gay friends told me that if I have more than three gay friends I am a fag hag. I'm tippin' the scales at about 6 solid gay males friends. Maybe need to reassess. But now is not the time. Enter the gay fireman.

I spot this strapping lad about a year ago when I was in the midst of getting sober as previously stated. Mind you, at this time I had gained some weight. Let's be real. I was fat and weird. It was a weird time. Think first day of 7th grade wearing hand me downs. Anyway, I spotted this man and thought he was hot and wanted to know more, therefore I added him on Facebook. How organic. He kindly accepted but no real contact. I'm confident it was due to the spare tire and floppy ass I had recently acquired. Fast forward to now. I have since shed these lb.'s and am looking better than ever. Eat your heart out. I'm saying this to who I don't know.

Anywho, dude hits me up on the FBeezy last week and asks me some lame question, like where I grocery shop. Uhh ok. I respond with some bullshit. I know this seems very boring almost suicide inspiring, but in comparison to my recent nights watching Lifetime movies with my cat, it's epic.

We converse randomly on FB, which leads to an exchange of phone numbers, followed by some light texting. Now I am a very impatient individual. And I feel that I have been out of the game for so long, I don't have the time nor the energy to think of funny things to say to get this guy's interest. I feel like I am at the point where I should just text nudes followed by "you interested or what?" So I break the text banter with, we should get coffee. It's 2011 for fucks sake. He of course responds within 2 minutes "yes for sure when are you free." Splendid. We make a tentative date for Sunday min afternoon. His words.

My fucking phone rings Sunday morning at 10:24 a.m. WOW. Are you kidding me? A first phone call before noon, on a Sunday nonetheless. Bold. I absolutely do not answer and call him back later. We decided to meet around 2pm. First date/hangouts really kill me. I always start screaming at myself on the drive and smoke like 213423452 cigarettes in a span of 3 minutes. The whole thing is so unnatural and awkward.

I walk into the coffee and shop and he has positioned himself on a velvet couch holding a newspaper in the most unnatural fashion. As if he was modeling for the latest Valtrex commercial. We get coffee, I shoot the shit with the pregnant barista and mention that I never want to have children. Diarrheal of the mouth. He looks horrified. Then then the real horror begins. The getting to know you phase, or as I like to call it, Sudden Death. What do you do for work, do you like it, what are you hobbies, how were your holidays, thoughts on politics, boxers or briefs, favorite color, any siblings, was your mother a drunk, are you a drunk, would you be supportive of me being a drunk, let'get down to brass tax, if you and I were married would you financially take care of me and let me bang the pool boy while I sipped xanax'coloadas in my pajamas?

During this questioning period he mentioned gay culture about 12 times. Oh and I forgot to mention this little tid bit. It may have been rumored that he likes to take it up the ass from men. Just a rumor I am apparently willing to overlook. I'm mentally over this date within 5 minutes but have to humor him so I hide my rude true self. He then mentions a gay bar in my neighborhood and gets really excited when I mention the drag queen fight I saw there the weekend prior. Ok, I've seen enough. Time for me to exit. I state "I'm cold..." cut off by "do you want to go for a walk?" Sure, why the fuck not.

As we walk in public down the street I pray to baby Jesus that no ones I know sees me. Although they would just think I was hanging with my best gal friend. He does have an interesting walk, a switch if you will.

We walk down to the beach, then he wants to walk along the beach, then he wants to walk down the pier where he banters me with talk about the firehouse and how it's like a frat house there. Right, I'm sure it's a dream come true for you. All men running around with their hoses in their hands.

I have had enough and I finally get him to walk back to dry land. Then the clincher.....as we were walking back to our cars he says these final words.

"I used to live down here when I was in the fire academy, you know what is a real ego boost, running around topless in the gay neighborhoods wearing my fire hat."

There is really nothing else to say.

Crazy Eyes

This shit is getting RIDIC. Quick update, the Jockey and I are no longer. I really don't want to get into it, but is has something to do with my almost near fatal experience with TSS. If you don't know what that means, google it. Furthermore, the last time I saw him we sat on his couch watching Family Guy while I got a contact high. Oh and I forgot to mention watching his puppy and kitty play fight. Totally awesome night!

Next order of business. Crazy eyes. Now I can neither confirm nor deny this nickname. It was given by a friend who says he may have a lazy eye. When I inquired as to how lazy this eye actually was on a scale of 1 to 10, she said, without any hesitation, a strong 7. Thats pretty lazy.

Back story. I've worked with this man (he's pushing 40) a few times now. He's a photographer, an artist, into some rad shit blah blah. Did some makeup for him a few weeks ago and it was great. I do not like to mix business with pleasure, actually I like to mix anything with pleasure, but in this case I don't want to ruin my working relationship with him so I'm ignoring the hardcore flirtation that has been going down between the two of us. Like sloppy cheek kisses hello, arm caressing, etc.

Fast forward to a few nights ago. Go to a bar to watch my friends band play. His band is playing as well. This would normally be an exciting to do, watching a guy thats I'm into play on stage. Total panty dropper. Umm perhaps not in this case. This man is in a spoof band of sorts. He and his band mates dress up in Reno 911 gear and sing covers as they hump the ground and dance around. Hilarious yes, sexy, not so much. Oh and their shorts are tighter than spandex on Precious so testicle visibility is HIGH. They play, I'm watching, it's funny. Toward the end of his set, he jumps off stage comes over and starts to serenade me to a Britney Spears song. How did he know I have a deep fascination with Britt Britt. Maybe the lack of eyesight gives him supernatural mind reading powers. Just a thought. He's singing to me very closely, so close in fact that I can feel his balls on my leg. There may have even have been some grinding going on. WHAT IS HAPPENING. I turn bright red and want to die. For some reason after this performance I am oddly attracted to him. Was is the short shorts? The epic Britney singing abilities, or the large bulge in his pants. I need more information. Further, I did not spot the wandering eye. Maybe he had a talk with it before hand and made it promise to behave itself.

Le Jockey

I had such high hopes. I meet this small man via my bestie. He automatically adds me on the FB and initiates some heavy contact. We start texting and I am going to be in his neighborhood the following day so we make plans to meet. So 2010. I arrive there and he walks out. A stout 5'3 tops. Umm ok, I'm trying not to be so shallow these days. I go inside to the frat house he lives in. He's 28 and I doubt anyone that has ever lived there when to college or even traffic school to be honest. He somehow lures me into his bedroom to watch Southpark. I fall for it, I know what I'm getting myself into but I play coy. We end of making out for like three hours and it's rad. We have insane chemistry and I'm stoked. I leave and end it for the day. The next few days we text and there are a lot of smiley faces and hearts and gay ass shit. I'm loving the attention. I did however forgot to mention a few details. He works at a medical marijuana dispensary and he has no car. Totally minor :\. Anyway fast forward a bit. He ends up coming over and it's a lot of the same. Making out blah blah. Then it starts getting all crucial i.e hot and heavy and I haven't had sex in about 10 months. No joke. So I'm like fuck yeah, let's do this. I like you, you like me. Let's make some bad decisions. It's on. We're about to get down and he stops and says, "I think we should wait." ARE YOU KIDDING ME. Dude this is not the time. I've waited long enough. I then find myself thinking how dudes think. Like this guy is a total tease, why did he even come over if he's not going to put out..blah blah. I finally break him and it's all good. Afterward he makes a joke "are we going steady now." Please stop sir before I kick you out of my house now.
So this was 4 nights ago. Contact since then, rad, texting talking, etc. Then there was tonight. Feeeeck. Ok so I call him and he's being all Debbie Downer status. So then he says to me "I'm just going to be honest with you..." Never a good sign. He proceeds to tell me how he found out that his ex-fiancé is boning his good friend and how he can't believe how people can be like that and that sex is evil and people who are married for like 60 years don't even have sex and in conclusion people just don't know how to keep it in their pants. I wish I could type the face I made when I heard this and even now. Ummm........................................ I can't. I then find myself talking him off the ledge and sharing past breakup experiences. Are we best friends? How did we get to this point. It's only been a fucking WEEK. Then he just abruptly ends the conversation with "I'm gonna take a Tylenol PM and pass out." Followed by a text 15 minutes later "thanks for being so rad!" I do not respond.
Thanks for being a fucking douchbag. Sorry dude I don't have time to be your emotional tampon. Please off yourself or call one of your homies to sort this shit out. Planed Parenthood is closed. She's probably fucking your friend because you are a garden gnome and you sell weed. Duh.

Scoobs

Please let me introduce you to Mr. Scoobs, Scoobs for short. I met this character at a certain 12 step program which I needed to check myself into. Please see prior posts for the reasoning behind this. Quickly, the "program" is about as exciting for my dating career as a yeast infection. All the dudes are maniacs, ugly, boring and I'm sure have at least two transmittable diseases. Continuing on. Met this fellow back in November. His first nickname was social suicide. You know, the sort of guy you show up with somewhere and immediately phones are out and mass texts are being sent. In spite of this we became friends. It's all platonic of course. We text racial jokes to each other and the such. The 2010 moves for people who are out of touch with their feelings. So months pass and it's nothing. Then one epic day I get a text and the words are mispelled and weird conversation is breaking down. Conclusion. He's off the wagon. Now this is of no consequence to me. If I am friends with someone then thats that. Regardless of their alcohol intake. Not so long ago, I would have been right there with 'em. So from this point further there are all these drunken hangouts. Not I. I am clutching the sober wagon ropes tightly in my white knuckled hands. To speed things up a bit, these hangouts have progressed from watching movies to me sleeping over, to now intense "cuddle" sessions. I have regressed to the 7th grade and its just PEACHY. We shall see where this rocky road takes me. I can't imagine anywhere good considering my keen judge of character.

Its Been Too Long

Almost one year has passed since I have last blogged. A lot has happened, but fingers have runneth dry. Time to take it up a notch and kick this bitch into high gear!

Captain Boner

Go over to this dudes house that I was loosely dating. We are not loosely doing anything anymore, the only thing loose that is happening is the elastic band in his "sweat shorts." Gross. I'm getting ahead of myself. So we talk and he asks me over at about ohh, 9:30 p.m. I don't know how I have convinced myself that this is not, in some way, a form of a booty call. I'm sort of excited to go over, I haven't seen him in a minute. I'm getting ready and decide to go for the "I just wake up and look this," which takes me about 1.3 hours to perfect. You know the look, light makeup, summer dress, flip flops, tussled hair, sensible jewelry. Once the look has been perfected, I walk over to his house. Now, you would think that a gentleman trying to impress a lovely lady like myself would put a little effort into his look. Like 15 minutes perhaps. Negative. He opens the door looking a fright. Kramer hair, dingy white t-shirt and GRAY sweat shorts. And not even like basketball shorts, which are bad, but gray Walmart shorts that overweight men and women wear to the swap meet on Sundays. I'm surprised he wasn't wearing a fanny pack. I look past the atrocious steez and roll in. I am there about 10 minutes before he start raping my face with him mouth. I call it mouth rape because of the feeling that I got. Like hard kissing with a pointy tongue. In between the mouth rape, there was a lot of hard pressing of the hands on my face. Not to mention intermediate face licking. Now, this is NOT my first BBQ, but I haven't really experienced this sort of makeout. Like forceful tongue, lip scrapping situations. All bad. At this point he pulls me on top of him on the couch, so I am sitting on his lap but facing him. This is the first malfunction of the sweat shorts; I am wearing a sundress, please see the first portion of this entry, and he is wearing wal-shorts. Basically the only thing between my vagina and his penis are two pieces of fabric, my chones and his jersey wal-short material. So I'm on top and he's like grabbing my leg like trying to get me to grind him. Now, I'm sure my previous post will show that I am usually down for some of this action. For some reason I just couldn't go through with it. He proceeds to lure me to his bedroom and starts to untie my dress strap followed by "opps" and a smile. I am confident he learned this manuvuer on 90210, you know the episode where Luke is trying to bone Kelly. At this point I'm like super over this shit. I decided to make the executive decision and leave his love nest. I tell him that i'm not into it and I have to leave. I was feeling like I made a bad decision until he stood up to walk me to the door and I noticed it. A large wet spot on his high end gray sweat shorts. Apparently he didn't need me for anything. He already impregnanted his shorts.

Saturday Night

RANDOM TEXTS:

Coffee Date at 12:32 a.m. "why?"

Fry Guy at 12:55 a.m. " u shall come save me!"

No response.

RANDOM ENCOUNTERS:

A man came up to me and said he knew he had seen me before, considering he looked like the pickup artist, I told him that I doubted it. He then introduced himself as John followed by, "but my friends call me Blaze Malaze." I immediately inquired about the BMX riding gloves he was wearing. He went on about how he had won a few dozen biking competitions in the 80's and then asked me if I wanted to go do coke at his house. I declined.