People say that when you stop looking for someone to be with, that person will come to you. Two weeks ago, I started my new, fabulous job at Forever 21, and I also started attending the Colorado Art Institute; majoring in Graphic Design. When I was dating David, I thought that when he said he was busy, he was just being melodramatic. Boy, was i wrong. Between working EVERYDAY that I’m not going to school, and going to classes from noon until 10pm twice a week, I barely have time to breathe, much less fathom the idea of dating someone. Understandably, I stopped thinking about the idea of a relationship. Hell, I barely have enough time for friends, much less the time or energy to nurture a new relationship.
For the past few months I’ve been talking to a few guys via the gaytabase, not really making much of all the vapid, mindless conversations, and gross, horny, old men. I was surprised to see that Mr. Business-degree, 22-year-old property manager, not only emailed me with a witty movie reference, but was politely coy, and very attractive. I immediately emailed him back.
We decided to go to Paris on the Platte for coffee (he ordered English Breakfast tea, I a coffee) the next day. He picked me up at my apartment, which he proudly disclosed that, already, he had it paid off. We sat at a table outside, and had the most wonderful date. He was smart and witty, very polite, and at the end of the night, he dropped me off, without kissing me. You would think that was a bad thing, but he said that he didn’t want me to think that he was promiscuous, and that he respected me. I was thrilled, and set up a second date to watch a movie at his house, two nights later.
Joke was on me.
He was late. In fact he was very, very, very late. The prearranged agreement was that he was going to pick me up at ten thirty, and we would then go back to his place to watch “the Queen” (I’ve been wanting to see it for quite sometime now).
11pm: I texted him at to see where he was at, and he responded twenty minutes later telling me he was five minutes away.
11:30: He texted me, and asked if I would mind if he was a little buzzed. I replied, no, if he fixed me a drink when we got to his house. He responded that he had no liquor. I thought that he was just loosening up, because he’s quite, and was kind of nervous on our first date, so I let it slide.
12:30: I sent him a text, telling him how incredibly late he was. He responded he’d be there soon. Then it clicked. I immediately asked him if he was at the bar. He said yes. I was furious. I asked him, are you at JR’s?! He replied,” Yes, Yes, I am SO SO SO sorry.”
1am: I texted him, and said, “you are such a disappointment.” He replied, and said,” Stop being drama.” Outraged, I told him good bye.
He arrived at my apartment ten after two. Drunk. He said how sorry he was, he’s been depressed and sad, and that he drank a lot. He even diagnosed himself as an alcoholic. I felt bad for him, and agreed I would come over.
Joke was on me, yet again.
I wanted to drive, and he wouldn’t let me. He was WASTED drunk. While driving on Highway 6, he was going 90, and weaving in an out of cars. He told me that he wasn’t scared of going fast, because he flew planes, and they go way faster. I checked to make sure my seatbelt was clicked and tight.
We arrived at his home. Modern. Expensive looking. Everything was in it’s special place, not lived in, untouched. NO personality. Then it hit me. I had made so many mistakes that night, and it was going to be a long night. And it was.
Things that went wrong from then on:
*He was on his balcony, saw a police officer skulking in the bushes below, and cursed at him.
*When I lied in his bed, he took all the pillows, but one.
*I gave in, and had pity sex with him.
*I topped.
*He moaned like a 12-year-old Asian hooker
*He made the most unusual “O Face”
*He kept complimenting my penis (which just embarrassed me)
*He did almost nothing to get me off.
Then..
*He “baby talked” me, afterwards.
I was astounded.
A FANTASTIC, mature, first date, turned into this nightmare of a second date, where, I didn’t even get to watch the movie I wanted to!.
I haven’t called him.
It’s almost comical how my luck with guys have been. FINALLY, I thought I met this amazing, mature, grounded, “real” man, who turned out to be this sob-story “fixer-upper” of a child. EVERY “man” that I end up dating turns out to be an emotional TRAINWRECK.
My question is:
I just went back and read what I just wrote, and the mere thought of the entire horrific night, is almost amusing.
Maybe it’s just me, but it seems I had more fun when I was just as fucked up as the rest of “Gay Denver”.
Matty B.
