THE 3 GAYS

Last week, while at work I chatted up a 2 guys whom I was very attracted to, and whom I assumed might play for my team. Naturally I gave them liberal samples of beer and expelled my knowledge concerning such beverages. At some point they were joined by another gentleman, also very good looking. But I figured they were just 3 guys hanging out, which they were...but.

While I was waiting for the bartender to count his money/do paper work, I checked in on Grindr. I know, totally trashy but endlessly amusing. Right away I was messaged "hey are you the guy talking to me about beer?" I almost gasped. Not only was it the hot "alpha" of the group, but he lived 200 feet away, and his profile picture was of him only wearing football shoulder pads.

Anyways, so the guy on his left was his boyfriend that he lives with, and the one on his right was his "regular fuck buddy". I've never met a couple with an actual, honest and seemingly healthy open relationship...and they are apparently looking to add a fourth to the mix. An idea of which I'm reluctant, but very curious about. I mean, these guys are FUCKING HOT!

Last night the trio came in again, and it was...odd serving them beer and food. Mostly because they got me all horny, but really because I could feel their eyes on me, even from across the room. While I'm still on the clock "alpha" gay is texting me, and invited me to go out later to a gay bar. I declined.

I dunno. It's random, confusing and exciting - all at once! Story to be continued...

NO REALLY...I'M GAY!

Some might remember the girl that was deemed too fucked up to remain in the bar I work at, thus she had to go. Well, last night her and her friend were back. Initiailly I wouldn't let them in, until drunk/crazy/bitch officially apologized to me for her earlier behavior. She also pointed out that she wasn't wearing heels, so after conferring with my manager I let them in.

And  they behaved! Well, mostly. The drunk/crazy/bitch girl's friend openly admittted to me that she was "rolling her nuts off" while petting my jacket. Then she asked me for my number. I just laughed in her face but then explained that we "don't play for the same team". HAHA - she thought I was just being a dick!

Anyways, I was sursprised to learn that people still employ the use of KNIVES to smoke pot with. I was re-taught this techinque at an "after-party" of sorts last night. Wow, that brought me back to 1997 or so. I left soon after though...I'm too old for that shit.  

If anyone has no clue what "knives" are, this is a handy tutorial:

Smoke Weed With Knives - The top video clips of the week are here

BACK TO THE DRAWING BOARD

About 2 weeks ago I wrote the New Guy/Doctor and well, that shit is over with. For the sake of brevity let's focus on a few reasons why this did not work out:

Overuse of the "L" word.

Anyone that says they love me after dating for a week and a half is either incredibly clingy, desperate or diluted in regards to what this word means. The declaration of his "love" for me after such a short period of time would make sense if we were teenagers, but coming from a 29 year old, it seems suspect at best.

I don't know if it results from a yearning to be in a relationship or if he considers me some sort of a trophy, especially after he told me he doesn't date Puerto Ricans (like himself) but only white guys (like me).

Admittedly, I have a thing for Latinos, but I would not ever parade a hot Latino guy around to my friends as I felt he did the last time we hung out. None of them seemed particularly interested in actually talking to me, rather they seemed to wink and smile at me.

Communication Issues

At first I thought his thick accent and curious spelling of various words was cute. But then it became confusing and finally frustrating. Keep in mind I am not some xenophobic asshole that gets annoyed if I have to push #2 for English when I make a customer service call, but when I have no fucking idea what this guy is saying to me or when his syntax is so out of whack that I have to pretend to understand what he is trying to communicate, it gets old. And quick.

Perhaps it would help if we hung out in places other than loud gay bars/clubs, but that's where we always ended up hanging out at, despite my suggestions for dinner or movie or hanging at one of our places.

Does He Even Know My Name?

I cannot think of a single instance, where he used my first name, whether it's on the phone, in person or via text message. Serious. I keep my text trails for a long time and not once did he ever use my name, instead using "Babe", "Homo", "You" or "Love". I am positive of this as I just checked.

W introducing me to his friends he'll introduce me as his "friend" with a not so oblique reference that we are more than friends (as in this is my "friend" said with eyebrows arched or a sly grin).

He has, however, used the term "sweetheart" and maybe I'm jaded, but that reminds me of my Mom (who calls me that) and is not what I want to hear before someone sticks their tongue in my mouth, for obvious reasons. Also, this isn't 1955.

Questionable "Ethics"

Though I am reluctant to deem anyone a racist, he has on more than one occasion used some questionable terms to indicate those with an African American lineage. On our 4th or 5th time hanging out I suggested going to a gay club called Spin, and he dismissed that idea because "that's where dark people go".

That might seem an obvious no-no but at the time I was drunk and figured I misheard him (which happens a lot). What I am sure of is that when he called me one day, I expressed my excitement in regards to Obama's political progress. He referred to him, in a very dismissive tone, as a "monkey". Not fucking cool.

When I got back from LA he really wanted to hang out, but since it was late I didn't return his call, nor have I responded to a slew of ill-formed text messages. I almost feel bad but at the end of the day I really just want nothing to do with this guy.

Maybe that makes me a bad person, but that's the risk one takes when you meet someone in a bar and unintentionally turn them off in ways I have outlined above. There are plenty of guys out there, and I feel no need to waste my time with this one.

NIGHT OF THE LIVING DRUNK

Last night my friend and I met up at a gay bar a drink(s). Though I was not there to meet any guys (promise!) I still did a curious scan of the room, totally unconsciously, mind you. While waiting for a beer, and for my friend arrive, I noticed these two, built-like-a-shit-brick-house frat boys who were practically drooling over one another. Awwww, how cute I thought.

When my friend arrived he got halfway saying hello when he stopped, and looked over my shoulder.

Me: "They're hot, right?"
Friend: "OMG, look his fucking arms!"
Me: "I know right, they scare the shit out of me."
Friend: "They are so hot."
Me: "....."

Eventually my friend was able to turn his attention to the bartender (whom, according to said friend, used to, or still is a gay porn star). While he did that, some guy came up to me and asked:

Random Guy: "Hey, you look just like this guy who used to work out at (fill-in-the-blank) Gym".
Me: "Oh, well, that's probably because I actually do work out there."
Random Guy: "I know, I saw you there last Monday."
Me: "....."

Um, well then. I am sure he was just being friendly, but that was a little creepy too. Maybe he was just drunk. Oh well. Friend got his drink and we looked for a place to sit, and the only open seats were next to the Huge Frat Boy Dudes.

I asked one of the HFBD's if anyone was sitting in these particular seats, and one of them just grunted a "NAW" at me and shot me a look of death. I took that as a sign that the seats were open...

Friend and I caught up on things, but I must say, I was distracted due to one of the HFBD's enormous elbows that kept poking me in my back. Friend was also distracted by the Public Display of Affection Floor Show going on behind me.

At one point friend's eyes got all big, so I knew I had to rotate on my seat, and try to casually glance at what was transpiring behind me. The taller (and more handsome one) had his hand down the other dude's pants! Get a room!

Haha, actually, it was this point that I realized I was providing them with "coverage" so no one could see what they were up to. Glad I could be of assistance dudes! They stopped the PDA Floor Show long enough to order another round, and at this point I realized how drunk they were.

How drunk were they? The Hotter HFBD was drinking bourbon on the rocks and doing shots of Jagermeister. Ugh! It all make sense soon enough...when a few minutes later the Hotter HFBD taps me on the shoulder and asks me if I smoke. I say yes and offer a Camel Light, which he clumsily grabs.

Hotter HFBD: "THANK YA MAN...REALLY DO 'PREACH-E-ATE IT." (I'm not good at approximating loud drunken Southern accents in prose, so bare with me)
Me: "No worries man, enjoy."
Hotter HFBD: "SMOKE WIT ME...C'MON, GIT."
Me: "....."

So here I am smoking with this enormous, drunk, slurring mess of a Southerner on the street. We talk about something, not sure what, for approximately 30 seconds when this guy, previously standing in line to get into the Jazz Club next store, approaches us.

He asks me for a cigarette (am I the only one who buys their own? Jeez!) and I give him one, then he totally ignores me while striking up a conversation with the Hotter HFBG. They are both from the South, and, not surprisingly, both love college football.

Hotter HFBG: "I USED 'TA PLAY CAWLLAGE BAWL."
Trendy Eyeglass Wearing Gay Jazz Patron: "Oh, really, what position?"
Me: (please say Tight End, please say Tight End): "You played ball?"
Hotter HFBG: "YUP, SURE DID, WAS A WIDE RECEIVER."
Me: (even better, even better): "Nice, you must be a fast runner." (shut the fuck up Justin, shut the fuck up)
Trendy Eyeglass Wearing Gay Jazz Patron: "What did you think of the (fill-in-the-blank-college-bowl game)?"

At this point I had to disassociate myself from the conversation, since I don't follow college football. More importantly, I had to prevent a wobbly, drunk, 240+lb man from falling into the plate glass window behind us.

Hotter HFBD eventually decided the best way to keep from falling over was to embrace me in an awkward bear hug of sorts. Keep in mind, I weigh about 158lb soaking wet, this was no easy task.

Eventually, we finished smoking, and the Trendy Eyeglass Wearing Gay Jazz Patron wished us a good night, and said to me "maybe I'll see you in there [the gay bar] sometime". Riiight...

Once back inside Hotter HFBD was prevented re-entry because the bar staff determined he was too drunk. His friend quickly rushed up with his coat and and dragged him out the door. Have fun dragging that drunk ass home!

Shit, and to think, just a few hours prior I had planned to stay home and read a book.

JOHN DILDOE

Allow me to explain...

First off, that is not my dildo (I swear!) although this was the scene I was confronted with after coming home from work one night. "John-Dildoe" belongs to Roomie. After briefly hyperventilating I was assured it was totally clean and posed no "threat" to anything within it's general vicinity (with the exception of my sanity).

Allow me to explain further. Since Roomie has come back from Peru she has been without employment, and avoiding writing her thesis paper. Therefore, she has been on a mean cleaning streak. One day, while organizing her closet she came across John Dildoe, which has been gathering dust for several years.

In her defense, she spent the majority of today mopping our hardwood floors (a task I have deferred for the better part of nearly 3 months), washing the glass on the framed artwork in our place, cooking chili (yum!) and even cleaning the blinds (thanks Roomie - our shower is totally fucked now).

I guess I can live with a dildo in my dish rack.

Fuck, for all intensive purposes, I am "married". And like the vast majority (total baseless assumption) of married men, without regular sex. Maybe I need a John Dildoe of my own....I don't know what it is lately, but holyfuckingshit I feel the need to get laid! I need to get naked and sweaty with a boy, and soon!

I didn't need a dildo to remind me of this fact, but goddammit it does.

HOW DID THEY FIND ME?

Wikipedia defines data mining as "the nontrivial extraction of implicit, previously unknown, and potentially useful information from data" and "the science of extracting useful information from large data sets or databases".

I should know, I work in an industry that utilizes such techniques for marketing purposes. Usually demographic information is limited to easily identifiable data sets including age, income, geography, gender, etc.

The reason I mention this is that last night, while stumbling home from a night out I realized I forgot to check my mailbox. After fumbling with the tiny key, I opened my mailbox and found a letter marked "OUT". It was an offer to subscribe to said magazine (at the low, low introductory rate of $7.97 a year).

My initial thought was "how in the hell did they track me down and identify me as a 'Mo"? I cannot think of any way someone can be targeted based on their sexuality (and if one can be, I want to know how). Really, this would be quite an advance in data mining capabilities.

Of course, I mostly find this amusing, but let's just say I received this letter in the mail 3 years ago, when I was still in the closet and living at home. I would have been mortified! I probably would have burned the fucking letter, or at least buried it deep in the trash (after shredding it).

This isn't like being hunted down by Details (of which I subscribe to) or even Men's Vogue (those people are hot on my trail). I suppose there are some straight men that read OUT, but they must be the exception within their circulation.

Anyone else out there read OUT? Is it worth my time? I already subscribe to 5 other magazines in addition to getting the Chicago Tribune 4 times a week. And I always pick up the Chicago Reader. And read a ton of blogs. It's a lot to digest, but OUT could potentially make an interesting addition to my existing subscriptions. If anything else, I know the Roomie would read it.

And if I do subscribe, do I check the box that would require it to be sent to me in plastic wrap to obscure the cover? Heaven forbid my neighbors find out about me! Haha, actually, I think it would be shady getting a magazine with a wrap on it...I don't want them thinking I subscribe to Penthouse or Hustler!

WELL, THAT WAS AWKWARD

Last Saturday night I had some time to kill before I met up with some friends. The Cubs were on but since they weren't playing on WGN, and since I no longer have real cable I had but one choice if I wanted to watch the game, which was to go to a bar. My choice was the good ol' gay sports bar.

The place was packed but I found one empty bar stool at the end of the bar and settled in. From my vantage point I had to crane my neck to see the TV, but I dealt with it. Unfortunately my location afforded me an unimpeded perspective on a former co-worker who was sitting alongside the other end of the bar.

A few months back I mentioned how I had seen this former co-worker while on a date at the same place, and I have seen him there a few other times as well, but we never acknowledged one another's presence (and of course I can't find that post where I mentioned him). Not too surprising as we were never work buddy's or anything. However, at the time it was obvious that he was gay but I was still in the closet.

While the other times we found ourselves in the same bar we generally ignored one another, but last Saturday night he was practically boring holes into the side of my head, and it was difficult not to look back at him. My theory is that before he might have thought it was me, but on this night I was wearing my glasses, which I always wore to work.

Needless to say it was a distraction from enjoying the game (as was the fact that the Cubs sucked that game), even more so because he seemed to look at me, look away and make comments to his friend/boyfriend sitting next to him. It didn't make me self conscious, but it was annoying.

Finally I decided to do something about the situation. During the commercial break, I got up and walked right over to him and said:

Me: "Hey man, you look familiar, didn't we used to work at the same place?"
Former Co-Worker: "Um, yeah, maybe, you do look familiar"
Me: "We both worked at 'insert former place of employment here' on the 'XXXX' team"
Former Co-Worker: "Oh, yeah, right..."
Me: "So hows it going, did you find a better job?"
Former Co-Worker: "Um, yeah, I like my current job much better, how about you?"
Me: (in a joking tone) "Fuck that place, I hope it burns to the ground, haha"
Former Co-Worker: "yeah, that place, sucks..."
Me: "yeah, it sure did..."
Former Co-Worker: "...."
Me: "well, um, good to see you, have a good night"
Former Co-Worker: "yeah, you too..."

File that conversation under "awkward". First of all, I was not hitting on him, I was simply trying to be cordial, mostly so he would stop staring at me while I watched the ballgame. Secondly, he never introduced me to his friend/boyfriend. Thirdly, has he no social skills whatsoever?

It's one thing to notice a former acquaintance, but to blatantly stare at one, on more than one occasion and not acknowledge someones presence is borderline creepy. Had he come up to me and said "hey man, what's up, good see you" or "wow, you're a fucking homo too, who would have thunk it?" I would have replied in kind or at least not have been weird.

No skin off my back really, just thought that was strange.

"FIXING" THE TV WHILE TEXTING WITH THE COLUMBIAN

A few weeks ago I called up Comcast and asked to have my cable television service cut off. I'm not trying to watch less TV or anything noble like that, but since the Roomie is gone for the Summer I have to pay all the utility bills. Along with our Internet service, the Cable TV bill was pushing $125+ a month. Not cheap. But the Comcast Representative I talked to got me a new deal in which I get to keep basic cable along with the Internet and the bill has now magically plunged to less than $60 a month. Not bad.

Last night my buddy MarK came over and we had some drinks while we shot the shit. Around 10:15 I suggested we watch some Colbert Report. Word. Since the Comcast overloads removed my digital cable box I no longer have a remote control that changes the channels and now that the channel lineup is different I have no fucking clue which channel is what. My solution? Watch the channel guide for 5 minutes until I see the little block with Colbert's name on it. Channel 54. Great.

When I get to channel 53 I hit the "up" button on the TV expecting to see Colbert's face. Channel 53 skips to channel 56. Fuck. Hit the down button, no luck, I'm back to 53. Fuck. MarK helpfully suggests I need to reprogram the TV so that the new Channels are added. After 10 minutes of holding down the 4 buttons I have to work with I hit the magical combination and the TV resets the channels. OK, back in business. I hit another button to exit the setup screen, but it resets all the channels again. Damnit!

Now keep in mind that throughout all of this technical madness (if you haven't realized yet - I am not a tech savvy individual) my phone keeps beeping at me because the Colombian Architect guy keeps texting me asking me about my plans for the weekend. My understanding of his messages is less than that of the programming functions on my TV. At one point I received this message: "So you are to have fun for both us in Boston"? Huh?

After another message I realize he means "Boystown" not "Boston". This guy even types with an accent. I was still confused though as I thought he was going to be at the Pride Parade in Boystown on Sunday. We texted back and forth a few more times in between me fucking with the TV. Although I'm not 100% sure I think he and his friend will, in fact, be at the Pride Parade, so I hope to see him then. The other things that threw me off was that he types "jejejeje" which I think means "hehehehe". I hope.

Back to the TV. At this point Colbert is long over with but I still want to watch something. Well, I successfully eliminated every channel except Fox, PBS, C-Span, 3 channel guides, 7 public access channels and Univision. Wonderful. Given the choice between watching the Senate vote on some obscure appropriations bill, Angry Baptist Ministers urging me to "Get More Jesus In Your Life" and a dating show on Univision, we chose the dating show (or rather I did because 2 of the Mexican guys were smoking hotties).

Perhaps the Columbian can come over sometime and translate for me. Or speak dirty to me in Spanish.

CHRISTIAN DOMESTIC DISCIPLINE

My roommate either has a REALLY good sense of humor, or has been leading a double life and accidentally sent me an e-mail containing the following link:

http://shop.christiandomesticdiscipline.com/

I like their motto, "Loving wife spanking in a Christian Marriage", although to be honest, I'm not really sure what it means, nor do I really want to. Regardless, this was an interesting diversion from this morning's workload. Note: those with weak stomachs should avoid the lingerie section. I wonder, for those that engage in said "lifestyle" is the official safe word "pantaloons"?

(For the record, my roommate found this on News of the Weird, although I'm beginning to doubt that explanation as I couldn't find the story - I hope she doesn't spank me when I get home...).

WENG WENG

I won't even speculate on why or how this clip made it to me, but if you also enjoy totally bizarre bullshit, soak it in: