My Next Mistake

next mistake

I matched with this cute guy on Tinder. We’ve chatted and it went so well we exchanged digits. I haven’t met him yet, but I already know he’s my next mistake.

I can see the signs already. One, we matched on Tinder. Obviously, this is a mistake! Tinder is a pastime for single people who don’t like to read. This is the equivalent of surfing through magazines and looking at the pictures between the words. He’s probably already moved on to someone else as I write this. Look, squirrel!

Second, he seems to be attracted to me. When we exchanged pictures on our iPhones (it’s getting serious, ya’ll), he said, and I quote, “You are insanely sexy.” So basically, he’s like already in love with me or something. I mean, I know I’m fucken adorbs and shit, but he should really get to know my mind as well before he falls in love with this “absolute hunk” (Again, those are his words, not mine). This is obviously moving too fast. It’s never going to work.

Third, he has shit together. He’s educated and has a good career, which only means he’s complicated. He’s probably going to want me to know what I want out of life. Do I know where I’ll see myself in the next five years? I mean I barely know what to wear each morning, so why complicate my life with goals and ambitions?

Fourth, he’s been responding to my texts and even laughing at my lame attempts for jokes. When I asked if he was a runner he said it was his first love, and then I said, “I thought I was.” And he said, “well that’s a given.” And I was like, “you passed the second test.” And he’s all, “I’m on a roll.” Okay, so maybe not so funny but we have cute banter going on there. Cute banter is hard to find. This basically means it’s going to end soon. He’ll stop responding, and the ghosting period begins.

And finally, I kinda think he’s foxy too. I mean, he called me insanely sexy. How could I not like someone who says that?? I’ll take any compliment I can get at this age! He’s charming, sweet, and cares about saving the environment. Ugh, he cares about the environment. Why can’t he care about money like Trump? He also has a cute smile and can grow a beard. He likes the outdoors and is high energy, all these things I am attracted to. This is a set for future disappointment. We’ll meet; it will be cute and dandy, but then he’ll tell me he doesn’t believe in fighting for love.  #MyNextMistake

Insides on the Outside

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As one door closes an other opens

Last year I met a guy and we connected for a brief moment. It didn’t work out, however, we said that we’d stay in contact. I texted and called him several times and heard nothing. It hurt that he never replied, not once! Towards the end of 2016 an opportunity arose for me to move away from Sacramento to Los Angeles, which I took (Although recent work developments may change this move).

I could not help but wonder why I had never heard back from this guy. My emotional side conquered my reasoning; I picked up the phone and dialed his number. Certain he wouldn’t answer, I had a messaged prepared. The phone rang and rang and rang and rang, and with every ring, my heart felt a little heavy. It went to voicemail and I left him a message that went along the lines of “You mother fucker why haven’t you returned any of my calls…” Okay, not really. Instead I said something like: “Hi! I’m visiting family and I wanted to catch up with you. Since I haven’t heard from you, I will be at the bar where we first met last year after five. I don’t know if you will show up, but I will be there.”

So with that I made the choice to go to this bar and wait…and feel completely pathetic and revel in my patheticness for all to see. I was 97 % sure that he wouldn’t show up but that 3% error margin made me jump in my car and make the 30 minute drive. I showed up a little after five, ordered a beer, and walked to the back where we’d last hung out. I felt as if all eyes were on me even though not a single person knew why I was there. I sat on a bar stool that gave me a view of the entrance door, and pretended to look at my phone.

It wasn’t busy even though the playoff game between the Chiefs and the Steelers had just started. People slowly trickled into the bar and with every-single squeak of the wooden entrance door I would look up, hoping to see a tall, bearded guy. The door kept letting in customers, more guys kept passing by, but I quietly drank my stout. I sat there looking at the empty seat he once occupied, with folded arms and a smile I could not forget, looking over at me and not saying a word because he was waiting on me to say something.

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Staring at the empty stool made the loneliness palpable

My reminiscing was abruptly interrupted when an Asian guy asked me how I was doing. It caught me by surprise and all I could do was nod and smile until I was able to articulate a simple “Yes, I’m good.” The crowd cheered and for a second I thought it was because he had entered the damn building. But no, someone on the screen had scored or something. I wasn’t paying much attention to the game at this point and my glass was half empty.

More guys kept passing by: tall ones, short ones, round ones, white ones, black ones, brown ones. It all felt a little dizzying. Was the stout this strong or was hope and sadness impairing my state of being? I read the names and messages carved on the wooden bench that ran along the window that lead to the back patio and wondered if I should carve a message. A deep and thoughtful one about waiting at a bar for someone who never showed up.

I finished my stout and walked to my car. A bus stopped at the light and I looked at the driver wondering if it was the same one he had waved at a year ago as we crossed the street. I got in my car letting myself cry for a minute, and then pulled it together. As I drove home I was not angry or sad that he never made the movie entrance through the big wooden doors at the very last minute. The moment was not about him; I didn’t realize this then but I went to the to that exact same place to let go of whatever had kept me thinking of him for a year… and to drink a beer.

Moral of the story is…he’s a fucken asshole for not showing up! Or, if you want to get all pensive and shit, sometimes we have to allow ourselves to be vulnerable and expose our insides on the outsides.

Have we become disposable?

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Are we like disposable cameras now?

Do you remember those disposal cameras that were really popular in the 90s? You used them once, they were cheap, and they did the trick. They were plastic and they were everywhere: the supermarkets, the convenience stores, the airports, basically at your disposal. Lately, I’ve been thinking, because I think a lot…sometimes too much, that in today’s gay culture we have become like disposal cameras. And here’s why…

I’ve been doing this online ‘dating’ thing for a while and seems that if I don’t give a guy what he wants, he will just move on to the next, and that’s quite alright. If he is looking for quick sex, why shouldn’t he have it? Recently, I “met” (by met, I mean we chatted online) a guy and things were great for a second. We had a connection; we had online-chemistry; we had #feels. We even exchanged numbers…but then two days later, he had ghosted me. He was ignoring my very cute attempts at continuing our conversation (or maybe they weren’t cute, I dunno).

I do know, however, that he wasn’t a ghost because he was back online “looking” a few days later. Yeah, I saw his picture with his very active green dot on his profile! Apparently, he wasn’t into an intelligent and attractive guy like me!  (or so I keep telling myself) My point is that because we have guys at our disposal, just like we have an Uber driver at 2 a.m. in the morning, we have become disposable ourselves. We send woofs, swipe right, send messages and pictures to multiple guys to see which one of them actually responds. There is no focus on just one guy. Even if it is to just hookup, shouldn’t you feel special that this cute guy is choosing you because of how big your heart is, or of whatever quality you may possess, not just because you are .3-miles away? It feels like it’s ADD for online-dating/hookups.

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Can you feel special with so many guys online?

I’m sure we’ve all been there where we feel we can’t keep up with all the different guys we communicate with. I caught myself the other day swiping left on every guy on Tinder because I couldn’t decipher which guy was better than the other. How can I decide based on a picture if one guy is better than the other? So I swiped left on all of them. I didn’t really care nor feel that I had the energy to care, and I think this is the reason why it feels like we are disposable. We just don’t care anymore to make one guy feel special.

What do you think? Are we disposable? Or am I reading too much into this and should give up on dating at my age? Leave your comments below.

Is quantity over quality better?

quality vs quantity

I love tacos. I like eating them…a lot. But sometime eating too many tacos isn’t always a good thing. Maybe eating two tacos is better, than say, eating 10 because then you really get to enjoy and savor the two tacos. My point about the tacos is that maybe quality over quantity is better, right? Okay maybe eating 10 tacos isn’t a bad thing. They are delicious after all! But when it comes to having sexual partners, is quantity over quality better too? Lately, my friends have been calling me the “Born Again Virgin” because, well, I…haven’t…in a while…with anyone. And it hasn’t been for the lack of trying! The last guy I tried performing this thing everyone seems to be doing finished before anything even started, and the one before him told me he was glad we didn’t have sex because he was 95% sure sex would have been amazing and it would have added an extra layer to our relationship, so it was best we didn’t have it. As you can see, I’ve been in a dry spell of sorts – a drought one might call it (like the one California is currently experiencing).

I have never been a fan of casual sex, not because I think it’s shameful to have a large number of sexual partners but because I prefer and enjoy it more with someone that I have a connection with or care about. Gross, I know! And by care and connection, I don’t always mean love. I like sex and I enjoy it in those rare instances that it happens, and I’ve even tried the occasional hookup but I didn’t find it satisfying. This is why my sexual partner list can be counted on both of my hands. Is that a good or a bad thing? My friends tell me that I am missing out. They tell me I shouldn’t be so prude and just do it! With anyone and everyone! I kind of cringe at the idea of sleeping around in order to just have sex.

A friend who is married told me that the best thing he did was sleep around because eventually he found his husband. It worked for him, maybe that’s what I need to do too??? I sometimes wonder if my selectiveness gets in the way of having great sex with random strangers or even landing my future husband. Hey, it worked for my friend. And there is that saying “You Only Live Once.” We are in this world for only a short period of time and we should enjoy it to the maximum. But should I follow the heard and be like everyone else when it comes to quality versus quantity?

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In a way, I’ve always felt that my being selective with who I sleep with has made me somewhat of anomaly in the gay culture. I don’t feel like I’ve missed out mostly because the few and in between partners that I have had, sex has been pretty amazing. I’m 95 percent sure of that! I ain’t bragging here! I’m just saying. But maybe my friends have a point. Maybe doing the casual sex thing could allow me to discover someone new.

What is your take on this? Is quantity over quality better? Am I missing out on great causal sex? Leave your thoughts below.

 

 

 

He Replied All

Reply All

I think enough time has passed for me to tell this story. They say time heals all wounds and this wound of mine is slowly healing. Several months have now passed since this unspeakable incident happened at work. I…Replied All…Yes, I replied all in an email that turned heads for all the wrong reasons.  Where do I start explaining myself…so what happened was…

I work in the office of communications focusing on social media for a department that deals with environmental issues. So on this particular date in late August, Kermit the Frog’s new girlfriend, Denise, was trending on Twitter. Apparently Kermit and Miss Piggy had broken up and Denise was the hot trend. At the same time, our president was in Alaska speaking about climate change. A particular topic that is far more poignant than say Kermit’s new girlfriend, Denise. However, the president speaking on climate change was of no interest to the Twitter world. I was annoyed that people cared more about Denise than say our planet. So I commented to a coworker (who also works in social media) about Denise and how our planet was doomed.

Later that day, my co-worker, who we’ll call PC, sent me an email on my work email account with a link to an article introducing the world to Denise. Of course, I opened and read it. I’m not gonna lie, I was curious about Denise, although I am #TeamMissPiggy all the way. At the same time, my agency was dealing with a crisis in the media.

To give some background on this, an activist was speaking with the media about a particular site, which my agency was responsible for cleaning. The activist was not happy at all with the work the agency was doing. To give more context to my story, the agency recently had employees who sent  emails with inappropriate comments about this particular activist. Let’s say they didn’t say nice things about the activist.

Back to my story: my supervisor emailed a link to an article that quoted this particular activist to his boss and a few others and cc’d me. I had both emails open. PC and I constantly joke around and email each other back and forth work related material as well as non-work related material such as the Denise article. So thinking, I would be witty, I replied back saying “I don’t like her, she looks like a bish…”

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She’s such a bish!!!

I eagerly waited for PC’s response, even giggled a little thinking about what PC would say but nothing came. PC usually responds quickly…I kept waiting. It seemed like the longest minute ever! Two minutes passed and nothing. I took a look at the emails and I immediately froze as I saw that little arrow pointing back on my supervisor’s email and not PC’s. All the color in my body flushed away and even felt weak as if something had sucked out all the blood in my body.

Even as I write this, just thinking about it, I want to crawl into a hole. After realizing what I had just done, I panicked and frantically tried to retract the email before anyone would open it. But that shit doesn’t work!!! I sent the retract request but nothing happened. Sweat began to percolate on my forehead. I didn’t know what to do. What the hell was I going to tell my supervisor and then his supervisor and everyone else cc’d?! Yeah, that hole was starting to look pretty good and so was the window of 22nd floor.

I tried looking for my supervisor to explain the email but he was in a meeting with his supervisor and a few other people who also happened to receive the email. So I sat at my desk, pale looking and thinking I had to pack my few office belongings because this was for sure my last day at the office.

Finally, my supervisor came to my cubicle and called me into his office. He explained he had seen the email as well as everyone else cc’d. My supervisor was not amused by my email. He didn’t think Denise was a bish at all! And he was not the only person who stopped by; a different supervisor cc’d in the email decided to come and shake her head at me (Side note: Now she was a bish!).

I was pretty much speechless. With my tail in between my legs, I immediately explained myself and asked for forgiveness. I told him the email was not about the activist or any living, breathing person but about the muppet, Denise. I told him that this was not an appropriate use of my work email. I apologized profusely. Not only did I apologize to him but also to everyone else cc’d.

I was in the “doghouse” for several months. My supervisor took me off some of my high profile projects. I had to walk around with a scarlet RA on my chest. Not only was I ashamed of my stupidity, but I was so scared, and still am, to reply to any emails. Every time I send a work email or any email for that matter, I take about five minutes to inspect it! I get nervous and sweaty. I hesitate to hit send. This incident was traumatizing!

Moral of this story is: Denise is a fucking bitch! #TeamMissPiggy. Also, don’t reply all. Just saying…

Just say something Tinder soulmate!

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#StoryOfMyLife

I hate admitting that I, on occasions, several times throughout the day, will log on to tinder and swipe. Yes, I have a serious problem. It’s called being single and bored and living in Sacramento.  I don’t like using Tinder and if there was some sort of weekly support group meeting, I would probably attend…and turn on Tinder to swipe (side note: wouldn’t it be cool if you could actually swipe dudes left or right in real life? Like, you’re just walking down the street and you emphatically swipe right on anyone you find attractive…end of side note)

But what I hate admitting even more is that when I occasionally match with someone, which is really rare since there’s basicalliieee only 10 gay guys in Sacramento using Tinder, I won’t say anything…and they won’t say anything. It’s a whole lot of not saying anything. I look at their pictures and wonder if my potential soulmate will say something charming first like “What are you looking for?” or “How is such a cute guy like yourself single?” Okay, so the latter is only to boost my ego, but most of the time it’s just chirps. It’s like if crickets are running Tinder. And when I occasionally read profiles (because as you know, Tinder isn’t about reading), there are those who complain how no one says anything even with Tinder’s encouraging messages to start a conversation such as “Don’t leave it blank” or “Well you’ve come this far, might as well say something” and my favorite: “It started on Tinder”… I am a repeat offender of the silence, however, if someone does message me, I will respond.

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Only if you say something!

However, what is bothersome is the silence by both. No one is willing to just say a simple “Hello” or “Cute smile”. You know, conversations starters…I mean, you matched with your potential soulmate or two-week lover why not say something! If you are using Tinder or any other application out there with the same functionalities, why not use it for what it was intended for (meaningless hookups until you meet the love of your life when you both get stood up by your Tinder dates). Is there a reason why we stay silent? By making the first move, does it make us desperate or even less appealing? Is playing the waiting game what we’re supposed to do so we don’t scare away our potential mate? Or have we become so jaded by the lack of response when we do say something???

Whatever the reasons might be, it seems counterproductive. We are, hopefully, mature adults who are able to hold conversations and if you matched, just maybe, maybe you will find a connection by saying a simple “hello.” If you like the guy, just say something! What do we have to lose?

 

 

Going the Distance

 

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I had the pleasure of meeting a really nice guy a couple of weeks ago. We met online as most gay men do. What was different for me this time around is instead of doing the usual texting game, we had long conversations over the phone, which I found somewhat unique or maybe the right word is retro. (Do people actually talk on the phone anymore?)

A week after talking for hours over the phone every night, we met for a drink. He called me awkward and guarded, which I found weirdly refreshing that someone called me out on my shit. We ended up making out in his car. I felt like I was in high school again making out in the car with a guy. Actually, I never made out with any guys in high school, which has no significance to this story…We continued to talk over the phone for a week. We talked about family, life and his past, things he said he never really talked about with other guys but felt he could with me.

We met again. The chemistry was palpable. He came over to my place and we laid in my bed and snuggled and even napped for a bit. Who does that the second time you meet someone, right? It felt really natural and comfortable which is usually hard for me after only meeting twice. I guess our talks over the phone allowed me to let my guard down as he called it.

After the nap, we had lunch and came back to my place where we laid in bed again and talked and laughed and cuddled some more. It was all very innocent and disgustingly cute. There was even a moment where we were staring into each other’s eyes (I know, gross!), and I knew he cared and I knew he was going to be trouble. Whether this was a good or bad kind of trouble, I wasn’t exactly sure at that very moment. For two gay men, who are into each other, and to just lay in bed, is kind of unheard of. Don’t get me wrong, we both wanted something to happen but unfortunately he couldn’t spend the night. Prior to our hanging out, he told me he wouldn’t be able to stay because of a commitment he had the next day with his church. I respected that.

With all this said, I’m leaving out a very important detail in this story. I live in Sacramento and he lives two hours away. The town he lives in has no importance just that it’s two hours away. Not the ideal situation when you like someone, however, two hours is nothing compared to a 10 hour flight to go visit your boyfriend who lives in another continent (Yes, I experienced this before!). So for me a two hour drive to his town seemed like walk in the park especially when we liked each other. Maybe I am just a romantic or maybe just desperate and wanted sex. It’s a blurry line, really.

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Unfortunately for him, two hours was significant. The day after spending time together and realizing we had a connection that went beyond just physical attraction, we had a conversation and the distance or as he called it, the elephant in the room, was brought up. He said the distance was going to be an issue for him. He wanted to have the option to be able to see me everyday or spend the night or watch a movie at any given moment. All valid points I will admit. These long distance relationships are not easy. You need a lot of patience and more importantly, you need a lot of love for it to be worth it. And then he said something that threw me off. He said he didn’t want to hurt me and that he didn’t believe in fighting for love or to be fought for. I agree, you should never have to fight for love. Love is not something you fight for. You either feel it or you don’t. We didn’t have love, we had only known each other for 2 weeks; however, we were starting to feel something. Why would he call at 6 in the morning just to say hi or get excited when I told him I had a nickname for him.

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I am not exactly sure what got into his head. Maybe he got scared or whatever he was feeling became too real. But I believe that going the distance is worth it when you feel something. Life is too short to let an opportunity pass by. I understand the distance can and is an issue as it was for him, but if you never give it a shot, how will you ever know what you could experience? Is it best to stop early before feelings become too deep? Did he do what was best for himself or was his reaction what is best for the both of us? Was he trying to spare our feelings from getting hurt in the long run? What’s your take on this? Are long distance relationships ever worth the trouble?