For those who are avid readers of my blog, you are aware that it hasn’t been raining men lately. My two month specimen drought was recently broken. There was one minor problem, though: I’m convinced the guy is gay.
The last date I had been on was March 3 with Mr. Lambo (I didn’t blog about it). After that, I temporarily lost interest in men, dating, and blogging. I continued to check the endless, stupid messages on the various dating sites, but rarely responded. Finally, I received a message from a guy who disqualified himself (but not based on gayness). We messaged back and forth for a few days. Rainbow Flag 1: We somehow got on the topic of shoes, of which I own many fabulous pairs. He then asked if I wanted to meet him for a drink on the upcoming Monday. Coming to terms with the fact that I should work myself out of my dating rut, I agreed. We exchanged numbers.
On Sunday night, two things dawned on me:
1. I didn’t remember his name (and the messages aren’t all saved on the dating site, so I couldn’t scroll back to the initial ones to find out), and
2. I did not want to roll the dice on meeting this guy without first speaking to him. I had made that mistake a few months prior (another story that I didn’t blog about, but I really should have and maybe will in the future).
I dial pad-ded him. He didn’t answer, but his voicemail greeting did provide me with his name.
Monday rolled around and, not surprisingly, I bailed on him. I have a habit of doing that on week nights. I get caught up in work or more work makes its way to me and then I cancel my plans to deal with it.
On Tuesday night, we spoke at length. This is when my gaydar began sounding off. Rainbow Flag 2: He giggled too much.
We ended up rescheduling our face-to-face meeting to Wednesday, May 9. We work literally 5 minutes away from one another. We met at a mutually convenient location. I was roughly 45 minutes later than the time we originally agreed upon, again on account of work. But, because this place was a one minute walk from his workplace, he didn’t arrive until I texted him to let him know that I was there.
I called him as I walked up to the entrance of the place. He was walking up from the other side. There was a long-dark-slicked-back-hair guy standing on his cell at the door. Mr. Giggles said, “That’s not you, is it?” I assured him that I was a female.
Rainbow Flag 3: As soon as he saw me, he said, “HUG!” and in the most flamboyant mannerisms possible, invaded my personal space for this hug of his. Now, for those of you who know me or who have read some of my stuff, you probably know that I do not like to be touched by strangers. I did not take well to this hug. He came in for it too quickly, not giving me time to push him away. I visibly begrudgingly acquiesced. We walked in and sat down at a table. Rainbow Flag 4: The first thing I noticed was his FABULOUS purple, button down shirt. This shirt was too good to be adorned by a male of the straight sexual persuasion. It was royal purple in color and the collar and cuffs were a light purple.
We talked for a while. The whole time, I couldn’t help but wonder why this guy was out with me and not another guy. Finally, I asked him. He claimed not to be gay, but said that people ask him that all of the time. I said, “Well, obviously, because you’re very clearly gay, but maybe you just don’t know yet.” He denied up and down any gayness. I mentioned the long-dark-slicked-back-hair guy standing on his cell at the door and asked if he was kind of hoping that that was me instead of the female I turned out to be. He said no. I pointed out the gay factor his shirt brought to the equation. He said, “You’re lucky I didn’t wear my fuchsia one.” Rainbow Flag 5: Straight guys do not know of a color called fuchsia and if they do know that such a color exists, they could not identify it on a color palette. He stood his ground on being straight. I was not convinced. Regardless of his sexual preference, he is a fun guy.
It was getting late. He walked me to my car and hugging happened again.
The following day (Thursday), he texted and asked if I wanted to meet him for dinner on Friday. I responded that I already had plans for Friday. He said he had plans with his friends that night (Thursday), but that I was welcome to join them for drinks in New Hope. Rainbow Flag 6: New Hope, PA is super gay. I declined. He later informed me that they were probably just going to watch a movie at his house (which isn’t too far from where I live). I agreed to join.
On the way to his place, I chatted with him on the phone (handsfree). I saw a cop car driving in the opposite direction of me and then I observed in my rear view mirror that the cop was making a U-turn. I knew he was coming to get me. The cop followed me for quite some time, elevating my level of anxiety. Once he turned his lights on, I told Mr. Giggles that I had to deal with the situation at hand. Miraculously, it turned out to be a nice policeman. NJ cops are typically douches. Mr. Officer told me that he clocked me doing 62 in a 50. Is that really a big deal? I personally don’t think so. I shared some words with him and then this nice policeman told me I seemed harmless and did not issue a summons. One might conclude that this officer of the law is not a good judge of character, but that worked out in my favor.
I continued my journey to Mr. Giggles’s house. Though he had warned me, I was not prepared for what I saw when I arrived…
To be continued…
You must be logged in to post a comment.