“I wouldn’t know. My ex used to beg me to do it to him, but I was like hell no! My tongue is not going any where near there, no way Jose”.
This was the declaration made by the guy I was quasi-interested in spending more time with during our first date, a simple coffee outing.
All I said was that I thought my coffee tasted like ass. Crude yes, but certainly not meant in any way to be a segue way into a sordid conversation.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m not a prude. I work in an adult video store for Pete’s sake, so I’m quite used to the steamier side of life. In fact, I can safely say that there is very little that makes me blush. Okay, that’s not entirely true. There was this Falcon film a few years back starring a basket of Granny Smith Apples that scared the bejesus out of me, but I digress.
There are quite a few things that make me see red when it comes to the world of dating, however.
One of them, as you have probably gathered by reading thus far, is that if you have asked me out, could we possibly curtail the conversations about you and your ex, especially if they have anything to do with either of yours body parts being on or up each other? For the price of an evening out, I feel this is not asking for too much.
It would also be extremely helpful if all of us in the dating pool could all try a little harder to be a little bit more upfront about our intentions. If all you’re looking for is a quick hook up, then just say so. It would spare a poor soul such as myself the aggravation of prepping for an elaborate evening (Are my roots done? Where’s my good underwear?) when all you really want is to see my hair plastered to the side of my head and my underwear strung from your ceiling fan. Trust me. I’m fine with either. Just give me a heads up.
Also, and I’m not entirely sure why this happens, but have you ever gone out with someone and, apropos of nothing, you’ve gone from being their date to being their therapist? The last time I was asked out to dinner by a gentleman caller, I barely got the words light ranch dressing on the side out before I was inundated with his tale of horror about his youth, a crooked priest, and some strange connection to a goat. Twice. All this before I even found out his middle name or drinks were served. Of course I couldn’t just sit their aghast, mouth agape and glaring at him for his lack of filter, so I found myself saying things like, “How did that make you feel?” and “See how far you’ve come and how much you’ve grown?” My therapist would have been tickled pink, as would the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences.
Now I realize that it may sound hypocritical of me to criticize people for being sometimes slightly inappropriate and for more than over sharing considering I do it every month in this space, but, and God bless ya’ll, you’re not taking me out to dinner and a movie, dear readers. Though you could. And none of this is to say that I don’t have my own faults when it comes to dating, or in life in general, but that’s an entirely different column. Quite frankly, I don’t think my editor would ever approve the twelve-page insert it would take just to scratch the surface on my peculiar habits (like why I feel compelled to write about EVERYTHING that happens to me).Artisit: No Doubt
Available On: Tragic Kingdom
Originally published in the November 2008 issue of The Empty Closet, New York State’s Oldest Continuously-Published LGTB newspaper since 1973, through the Gay Alliance of Genesee Valley.
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