My relationship with God is complicated. Being gay and growing up in a catholic country our relationship has always been let's just say, sort of frazzled. I am what you would call a lazy atheist. One that only believes in a higher power, just in case but who is a staunch believer that religion is problematic.
So when I started a conversation with a very handsome guy on okay-cupid who's profile said very religious I thread lightly. However, I still set up a date for a drink or a meet up as he later on informed me. Not a date.
It was halfway through our first drink that he decided to inform me that he was a priest. The kind that can date, be gay and fuck he clarified. Who knew!! That is when I ordered my second drink. A strong one.
We then continue to chat. For a good hour. About everything from my views on religion, lady gaga and his dog. He was charming, warm and very open to other points of view. I guess you have to when you have people revealing their deepest secrets to you all the time.
We decided to get in touch later on in the week and set up an actual date for him. A second date for me.
After a couple of texts a week passed and we met at a nice restaurant. We ordered a bottle of red and dinner. Chemistry was undeniable. Good taste in movies, lover of art, could cook and had a very cute smile. Did this mean I should start praying?
After the conversation took a heavy turn, I decided we should moved locations to a tequila bar where jazz was playing. The flirting got heavy and there might have been some PDA, priesty display of affection. After kissing while waiting for our respective Ubers we decided to call it a night but talked about going to the movies.
Five minutes later I got a text. "I had such a nice time. There is something about you. You have a twinkle in your eye. Let's do this again". Good Lord, that was fast.
Two texts and a cancelation later. I never hear from him again. There goes my twinkle.
Apparently even priest ghost nowadays
But I am not surprised, after all he is in an open relationship with God.
I however prayed that week. "In the name of the father, the son and the holy ghosted."
Wednesday, 12 February 2020
Saturday, 14 December 2019
The 90s "RomCom" Syndrome
While nursing a cold and watching seven consecutive hours of the Mindy Project on Netflix I decided to come out of my blogging hiatus. Let's just say the last two years of dating have been everything but boring.
Being in my late 30s I grew up watching the best of Meg Ryan, the beginning of Julia Roberts annoying persona and everything Sandra Bullock. Sadly. In the ol' days there was nothing close to a gay romantic comedy as all the gay themed movies involved sketchy sex, dying or sad coming out stories.
So these ladies where basically all I had.
Enter Man-Bun. Handsome. Assertive. Intense.
On our first convo on the apps he immediately insisted that we had to meet ASAP after I mentioned my pro-monogamy views and semi romantic stand of dating. After a lot of insisting on his part, he asked me to go to his condo.
The condo that was spotless. Think showroom clean. Decorated in the style that I can only call Wall Street Chic with a side of Emo Liberace.
What followed was a very intense game of chicken as he decided to not really talk much and stare at me intensely while the local news played on his tv. Not going to lie, I was into it, that was until I was interrupted by eyebrows going up and down and him winking at me.
The staring continued for a couple of minutes until I stopped it by going for a kiss. He was pretty sexy after all and he was into it. I guess I lost the game of chicken after all. We chatted for a bit and then he said. "I am taking you for a date on Wednesday."
Cut to Wednesday. The date involved the worst sushi ever ordered on Uber eats. Wine that I brought. and it was followed by a bizarre drive around the neighbourhood to find a bar and a phone call interruption from his friend. Who insisted to meet him in the middle of the street on the way to the bar to say hi. An insistence to which he comply to and got out of the car and left me waiting for five minutes while they had a catch up.
The chat at the bar was nice actually. Maybe it was the two beers I drank. We went back to his place and kissed some more. The make out session was interrupted when he stood up and went to the bathroom to get his tweezers which he used to take two hairs off my ears, 'cause you know, they were bothering him.
It was after we had sex that I realized that he got his romance ideas from 90s thrillers when he decided to fold all my clothes neatly in the bathroom while I took a shower.
Needless to say. After getting a glimpse into his Sleeping with the Enemy vibes, getting a very Single White Female energy from his texting, I decided to stop things before we went Fatal Attraction on me.
And they say romance is dead. I think they might be right...
Being in my late 30s I grew up watching the best of Meg Ryan, the beginning of Julia Roberts annoying persona and everything Sandra Bullock. Sadly. In the ol' days there was nothing close to a gay romantic comedy as all the gay themed movies involved sketchy sex, dying or sad coming out stories.
So these ladies where basically all I had.
Enter Man-Bun. Handsome. Assertive. Intense.
On our first convo on the apps he immediately insisted that we had to meet ASAP after I mentioned my pro-monogamy views and semi romantic stand of dating. After a lot of insisting on his part, he asked me to go to his condo.
The condo that was spotless. Think showroom clean. Decorated in the style that I can only call Wall Street Chic with a side of Emo Liberace.
What followed was a very intense game of chicken as he decided to not really talk much and stare at me intensely while the local news played on his tv. Not going to lie, I was into it, that was until I was interrupted by eyebrows going up and down and him winking at me.
The staring continued for a couple of minutes until I stopped it by going for a kiss. He was pretty sexy after all and he was into it. I guess I lost the game of chicken after all. We chatted for a bit and then he said. "I am taking you for a date on Wednesday."
Cut to Wednesday. The date involved the worst sushi ever ordered on Uber eats. Wine that I brought. and it was followed by a bizarre drive around the neighbourhood to find a bar and a phone call interruption from his friend. Who insisted to meet him in the middle of the street on the way to the bar to say hi. An insistence to which he comply to and got out of the car and left me waiting for five minutes while they had a catch up.
The chat at the bar was nice actually. Maybe it was the two beers I drank. We went back to his place and kissed some more. The make out session was interrupted when he stood up and went to the bathroom to get his tweezers which he used to take two hairs off my ears, 'cause you know, they were bothering him.
It was after we had sex that I realized that he got his romance ideas from 90s thrillers when he decided to fold all my clothes neatly in the bathroom while I took a shower.
Needless to say. After getting a glimpse into his Sleeping with the Enemy vibes, getting a very Single White Female energy from his texting, I decided to stop things before we went Fatal Attraction on me.
And they say romance is dead. I think they might be right...
Friday, 6 October 2017
Let's just...don't
I am all about the embracing the millennial joie de vivre and operate from a place of confidence but sometimes the "you do you" existential MO pushes it.
The following is a list of things you should not do/say on a first date. All based on personal experiences going on dates with an array of awful, interesting, fun and plain just crazy guys.
1) Do NOT disclose your sexual escapades after just one beer. There is nothing sexy about listening to someone tell you they once got a blow job in an alleyway down the street from the bar you are currently having a drink at.
2) Do NOT go silent five minutes into a date, space out and then go on a ten minute diatribe to apologize by disclosing you are a very anxious person that never sleeps and might need to take pills. That convo belongs to a pre-date conversation or a third date once you are comfortable with each other.
3a) Do NOT check your phone while on a date and get excited when you get a new match on Tinder.
3b) Do NOT swipe while your date goes to the bathroom and then try to hide it by saying you where checking some emails.
4) Do NOT be late for your date because you were at a Rupaul's Drag Race trivia night.
5) Do NOT start a half hour convo with the waiter and ask him about his career goals.
6) Do NOT add your date to all your social media until after you go on a fourth date. It makes for really awkward unfollows and blocking.
When in doubt just do not go on a date. Time is precious. If you are not feeling it sometimes is better to just do NOT do it
The following is a list of things you should not do/say on a first date. All based on personal experiences going on dates with an array of awful, interesting, fun and plain just crazy guys.
1) Do NOT disclose your sexual escapades after just one beer. There is nothing sexy about listening to someone tell you they once got a blow job in an alleyway down the street from the bar you are currently having a drink at.
2) Do NOT go silent five minutes into a date, space out and then go on a ten minute diatribe to apologize by disclosing you are a very anxious person that never sleeps and might need to take pills. That convo belongs to a pre-date conversation or a third date once you are comfortable with each other.
3a) Do NOT check your phone while on a date and get excited when you get a new match on Tinder.
3b) Do NOT swipe while your date goes to the bathroom and then try to hide it by saying you where checking some emails.
4) Do NOT be late for your date because you were at a Rupaul's Drag Race trivia night.
5) Do NOT start a half hour convo with the waiter and ask him about his career goals.
6) Do NOT add your date to all your social media until after you go on a fourth date. It makes for really awkward unfollows and blocking.
When in doubt just do not go on a date. Time is precious. If you are not feeling it sometimes is better to just do NOT do it
Saturday, 29 July 2017
Unforgettable
After a month and a half of dating in the real world, or lack thereof, I caved and I am back to the online world. Although trying to date offline was an interesting experiment, it seems that the only way to get a date is through my phone.
So, operation swipe, is on. Three days of a lot of left swiping and I got to the end of Tinder. After running out of swipes and suffering a mild carpal tunnel, I have only 14 matches. Quality over quantity... right?
A couple monosyllabic conversations later and I am having good case of deja vu.
So, in a moment of weakness I decide to download Grindr.
It seems that a month off the apps is like five years in the dating app world because I was approached by the exact same guys that had approached me before I deleted the app. The same guys whose conversation went nowhere and who I never met. Apparently Gay Amnesia is a thing because none of them remember talking to me before.
The thing is. I never forget a face. A name yes. A face? Never.
Five Deja Vus in. I start chatting with another guy who I had already chatted before and who's gAy-DD (Gay Attention Deficit Disorder) had left me in mid conversation a couple of months before.
Apparently, the grass was greener on my turf this time as he was really chatty and actually kind of charming. After texting for a couple of days about everything from politics to food to music, he decided to ask me for a drink. He was great and charming on text so I say yes.
I am all about good vibes and chemistry but I have never heard of dating fang shui. Apparently it is a thing, as my date decided to change our seats not once but three times because he was not feeling the fang shui . The first time the table was too small, the second time seats were not comfy and the third time it was the lighting and the ice machine at the bar.
We ended up sitting at the bar. Where I am told that the bartender at this bar is a genius. He was actually very run of the mill and super cranky.
My date then decides to have what seems like a ten minute conversation about his drink with the bartender. Followed by another five minutes of looking at the bartender making his drink. So far, we haven't gone beyond small talk so I seek refuge in the menu.
Reluctant to order any food and not inspired by both the menu or the conversation. I am told by my date to order something. "Order food" he says. "You should order an app" he insists. Order taken.
After a clunky conversation about our careers. He decides to tell me that I look like a drug lord. I guess that's the equivalent of telling me I am a masculine or butch. Given the circumstances I take the compliment.
The food arrives and I am again told to eat. This time off his plate. He insists that I must eat some of the shrimps in the dish he ordered. Then a long debate ensues about what one of the ingredients in the dish was. It was an olive but my date insisted it was fish delicately cut into a small circle. I insist it is an olive. He insists it is fish. I say olive. He asks the bartender. The bartender says dryly "It is an olive".
This was the highlight of the night.
Once the debate is done, I got to know a little more about my date as he goes full charming and tells me he is a lone wolf with not a lot of friends. He was working hard selling himself and I was working hard trying to find a way to go home. The check comes and I decide that I want to walk home but so does he.
I wish I could say this is when I ran away to seek refuge but things became evern more bizarre as my date went apeshit and started blabbing like 2 year old the moment he saw a dog on the street. He then gave me the saddest tour of the city when he pointed out all the places that he goes to, alone, by choice.
We say goodbye and I am left with high hopes of hitting my head and getting good case of gay amnesia.
So, operation swipe, is on. Three days of a lot of left swiping and I got to the end of Tinder. After running out of swipes and suffering a mild carpal tunnel, I have only 14 matches. Quality over quantity... right?
A couple monosyllabic conversations later and I am having good case of deja vu.
So, in a moment of weakness I decide to download Grindr.
It seems that a month off the apps is like five years in the dating app world because I was approached by the exact same guys that had approached me before I deleted the app. The same guys whose conversation went nowhere and who I never met. Apparently Gay Amnesia is a thing because none of them remember talking to me before.
The thing is. I never forget a face. A name yes. A face? Never.
Five Deja Vus in. I start chatting with another guy who I had already chatted before and who's gAy-DD (Gay Attention Deficit Disorder) had left me in mid conversation a couple of months before.
Apparently, the grass was greener on my turf this time as he was really chatty and actually kind of charming. After texting for a couple of days about everything from politics to food to music, he decided to ask me for a drink. He was great and charming on text so I say yes.
I am all about good vibes and chemistry but I have never heard of dating fang shui. Apparently it is a thing, as my date decided to change our seats not once but three times because he was not feeling the fang shui . The first time the table was too small, the second time seats were not comfy and the third time it was the lighting and the ice machine at the bar.
We ended up sitting at the bar. Where I am told that the bartender at this bar is a genius. He was actually very run of the mill and super cranky.
My date then decides to have what seems like a ten minute conversation about his drink with the bartender. Followed by another five minutes of looking at the bartender making his drink. So far, we haven't gone beyond small talk so I seek refuge in the menu.
Reluctant to order any food and not inspired by both the menu or the conversation. I am told by my date to order something. "Order food" he says. "You should order an app" he insists. Order taken.
After a clunky conversation about our careers. He decides to tell me that I look like a drug lord. I guess that's the equivalent of telling me I am a masculine or butch. Given the circumstances I take the compliment.
The food arrives and I am again told to eat. This time off his plate. He insists that I must eat some of the shrimps in the dish he ordered. Then a long debate ensues about what one of the ingredients in the dish was. It was an olive but my date insisted it was fish delicately cut into a small circle. I insist it is an olive. He insists it is fish. I say olive. He asks the bartender. The bartender says dryly "It is an olive".
This was the highlight of the night.
Once the debate is done, I got to know a little more about my date as he goes full charming and tells me he is a lone wolf with not a lot of friends. He was working hard selling himself and I was working hard trying to find a way to go home. The check comes and I decide that I want to walk home but so does he.
I wish I could say this is when I ran away to seek refuge but things became evern more bizarre as my date went apeshit and started blabbing like 2 year old the moment he saw a dog on the street. He then gave me the saddest tour of the city when he pointed out all the places that he goes to, alone, by choice.
We say goodbye and I am left with high hopes of hitting my head and getting good case of gay amnesia.
Tuesday, 11 July 2017
Rasing the Bar
Going off the dating apps means that you need to make a extra effort to put yourself in a social situation where you could possible meet someone. Well, what better place than a bar. A gay bar.
Now, it is important to clarify that I am not one to go to a club or a gay bar. Not beyond the once in a while occasion when my friends have a birthday or the bestie wants to go dancing or I am in the mood.
Desperate times call for desperate measures.
First Attempt - Solo
One Saturday night I braved it up and went to the village's gay pub/club. But first I shower and re-iron one of my shirts. First impression are important, right?
Gussied up and ready to mingle I arrived. I make sure to first buy some Japanese liquid courage before I do my first walk through. What followed felt more like walking through my high school hallways and less me trying to find someone to connect with. Enter second beer.
After a couple of awkward glances and what seemed like an almost conversation, I purchased my third beer. Less face it, liquid courage is a necessity for survival in these cases. Another walk through puts me in the awkward situation of seeing one of the guys I went on a date with months before. Yes, the guy next door who you want to stay behind that door. After an awkward mouthing of "how are yous?" I go to the bar to purchase my fourth and final beer.
Forty five minutes into my first attempt at going solo to a bar I decide to leave. Bloated, kinda drunk and dateless but proud that at least I tried.
Saturday, 1 July 2017
#socialmediacleanse
Last week I decided to erase all my dating apps and go on a social media cleanse. The days of swiping are over. The rush of getting a match has been replaced by the excitement to prove myself that I can still find a date the old fashioned way.
So hold on to your hipster toques and inside scarves cause I am ready to engage the world beyond my iPhone's screen.
The Gay Christmas
Depends who you ask. Pride is basically the gay Christmas. (for others it is halloween, the Tony Awards or any red carpet)
Pride started as march to protest for respect, for rights and acceptance. The years have passed. People now can get "gay married" and Pride is now a celebration brought to you by all our favourite brands.
I am not going to delve into the politics of Pride and what it means, no worries.
This year I decided to attend Pride, first time as a single man. I mean, what better way to access others "like" me than a party that celebrates people "like" me.
Well. Not so much.
Glittered beards and rainbows aside. The block party I joined was basically a high school dance attended by 200 versions of what seemed like the same guy: "The shirtless muscled meat head douche". Like good mammals, they all hung out within their pack of other shirtless muscled meat heads and didn't relate to any one beyond their group. Mix that with a DJ that played music that could only be dance with what I call " Instagram Boomerang" moves and you have a recipe for ...not love.
The only three people that seemed interested in engaging any other humans were: the nicest but terrible at math drink ticket seller, the guy that sold me a delicious mini "pride sausage" pizza and a crazy European lady that looked like a real housewive on E.
Thank God for my two friends.
It seems I will have to wait to the real Christmas to get a present.
F is for Flirting
Part of my new approach to dating is to try to engage people in any situation that could lead me to a smile, conversation or exchanging of phone numbers.
So, it is time to un-dust my good ol' gaydar and put it to work.
This week I tried public transportation.
Armed with a big smile, one spray of cologne and a flirty attitude I took on my work route crowd.
Monday
I tried the "I am shy but interesting as I am obviously listening to a hilarious podcast and laughing out loud approach". Epic fail. All I got was dirty looks.
Tueday
I tried the "I am super smart and reading the New York times Editorial section approach". Mild fail.
No dirty looks. Not looks at all.
Wednesday
I tried the "I am wearing sunglasses and drinking an iced americano so don't talk to me cause I am to cool for school approach". Too cool for school indeed.
Thursday
I was running late so I guess I tried the "fuck i am going to be late to work approach". I got a mild sneer.
Friday
I tried a simple "smile" approach. Small victory. I got two smiles back.
I guess we all have to begin somewhere.
Tuesday, 20 June 2017
No-Ass Ark
Let's face it. After two catfishings, three ghostings and a whole lot of smart-asses, I have no other option but to build an ark. An ark where I will also like to put the silent-Bobs, the monosyllabic Joes and the tinder scrapbookers.
I have always found dating fascinating, both as a painful process we all decide to put ourselves through but also as a sociological experiment that pretty much reminds you how eff'd up we all are. The royal we, that is.
The reality is that dating is not an easy feat and when you add a layer of technology things become even less personal. I have been single and ready to mingle for almost a year now, and although the majority of my dating experiences have ranged from bizarre to entertaining I have also been reminded of the superficiality and vacuousness that comes with being gay. Cue rant.
In the non-scientific experiment that has been my dating life for the past year I have learned that most people are incapable of expressing what they want beyond having a frantic tumble and asking what you are into. Mind you, if you are a fuck and chuck kind of guy then online dating is where it's at.
That is if you are willing to navigate an array of weird interactions, unsolicited nudity, fake profiles and a whole lot of conversations that go nowhere.
It seems that collecting matches and woofs is the new version of self-love for some and expressing our distaste for some groups is also a way people like to connect with others.
This is why I refuse to engage in monosyllabic conversations with people that are looking to "connect" but are not willing to put the time or effort.
I refuse to sign in for an abs adoration culture (and believe me there is nothing wrong with being in great shape and having a gym abiding healthy lifestyle) but there is plenty more to life than a six pack.
I refuse to be put in a box by a swipe or a woof. I refuse to be judged by the way I look or where I come from.
I refuse to feel good because I have certain amount of matches.
I refuse to be anyone but myself.
For a group of people that has been marginalized, mistreated and abused over the years we tend to do the same with each other. We treat each other in such a superficial and disposable way. We all seem to be looking for the same, a companion, someone to talk to, a friend, someone to have sex with; but the reality is that no one is willing to put the time and respect that it actually requires.
So here is to less swiping and more trying to meet people in an old fashioned way. In person. By connecting with each other. By engaging. By talking. By not putting each other in a box.
I have always found dating fascinating, both as a painful process we all decide to put ourselves through but also as a sociological experiment that pretty much reminds you how eff'd up we all are. The royal we, that is.
The reality is that dating is not an easy feat and when you add a layer of technology things become even less personal. I have been single and ready to mingle for almost a year now, and although the majority of my dating experiences have ranged from bizarre to entertaining I have also been reminded of the superficiality and vacuousness that comes with being gay. Cue rant.
In the non-scientific experiment that has been my dating life for the past year I have learned that most people are incapable of expressing what they want beyond having a frantic tumble and asking what you are into. Mind you, if you are a fuck and chuck kind of guy then online dating is where it's at.
That is if you are willing to navigate an array of weird interactions, unsolicited nudity, fake profiles and a whole lot of conversations that go nowhere.
It seems that collecting matches and woofs is the new version of self-love for some and expressing our distaste for some groups is also a way people like to connect with others.
This is why I refuse to engage in monosyllabic conversations with people that are looking to "connect" but are not willing to put the time or effort.
I refuse to sign in for an abs adoration culture (and believe me there is nothing wrong with being in great shape and having a gym abiding healthy lifestyle) but there is plenty more to life than a six pack.
I refuse to be put in a box by a swipe or a woof. I refuse to be judged by the way I look or where I come from.
I refuse to feel good because I have certain amount of matches.
I refuse to be anyone but myself.
For a group of people that has been marginalized, mistreated and abused over the years we tend to do the same with each other. We treat each other in such a superficial and disposable way. We all seem to be looking for the same, a companion, someone to talk to, a friend, someone to have sex with; but the reality is that no one is willing to put the time and respect that it actually requires.
So here is to less swiping and more trying to meet people in an old fashioned way. In person. By connecting with each other. By engaging. By talking. By not putting each other in a box.
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