Tuesday, April 7, 2015
Finding the Mormon Missionary of Beaver Utah
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Monday, April 6, 2015
The Klingon and the Sword Swallower
When I moved to Upstate New York in the fall of 2008, my social calendar was soon crowded with invitations from members of the Gang of Twelve, guys who had known each other for years, and who shared everything, from gossip to boyfriends.
1-2. The Rich Kid and the Crying Truck Driver.
3-4. The Rapper, and the Grabby Nurse.
5. The Satyr and his roommate Chad, who I dated through the fall and winter.
A few days after Chad and I broke up in February, the Klingon emailed me for a date.
We met last fall, and saw each other occasionally at the Neptune or the Gay Men's Potluck in Utica. But when I asked him out, he refused. Later I figured out that the Gang of Twelve was a class-based society.
The Upper Class -- the Rich Kid, the Male Nurse, and the Satyr -- got the first chance with all of the New Kids in town.
If no romance resulted, or if a romance began and then ended, The Middle Class got their turn. (The Truck Driver and the Rapper were middle class, but cut in line due to the special circumstances of their recent breakup).
So the Klingon had to wait until the Upper Class guys (and Chad) were finished with me.
Date #6: The Klingon
He was in his 30s, shorter than me, husky, with a round face, a beard, and a very hairy chest, very cute. And a science fiction fan! I figured we would be wildly compatible, maybe even soul mates.
On our date, we saw Coraline, an animated movie about a girl who discovers a secret world, followed by gyros and a visit to the Bearded Dragon Comic Book Store, and then back to the Klingon's apartment.
Discussing the Klingon language was lots of fun, but I got a little bored hearing about role playing games, anime, manga, and the Dark Knight. He was like the Comic Book Guy, who I dated in Florida.
Except the Klingon's bedroom was perfectly comfortable.
On our second date, we ordered Chinese food and watched a DVD of X-Men: The Last Stand. His bedroom was still perfectly comfortable.
On our third date, we drove 1 1/2 hours into Albany for a very boring role-playing championship at the Zombie Planet, followed by a visit to the bear bar, and then 1 1/2 hours back to Delhi, where the Klingon lived.
The 3 hour trip and 2 hour role-playing made me realize that the Klingon and I would have been soul-mates in college, or maybe in West Hollywood, but not anymore. I hadn't played role-playing games, bought comic books, or read fantasy and science fiction for about 30 years. I last saw a Star Trek movie in 1982, and a Star Wars movie in 1983. It was like hanging out with my teenage self. Time to yell "Next!"
There was only one problem: in gay communities, after the first or second date, it's perfectly acceptable to just not call him back. But on the third date, you become a romantic couple, and you have to go through the same break-up process as couples who have been together for years.
I invited the Klingon to lunch, but before I could say anything, he gave me the "it's not you, it's me speech." Then he sent notes to the Gang of Twelve: "Cute, but dull! Doesn't have any hobbies or interests!"
Date #7: The Sword Swallower. This one didn't take long.
I invented all of the other nicknames, but the Gang of Twelve really did call this guy Sword Swallower. I assume because he liked to swallow...um...swords and things.
He was in his 40s, tall, lanky, with a long face and thick, wavy hair. Long fingers and rings -- an immediate turn-off. ...
On our date, we went to dinner at the Mid Town Grille in Delhi, where he talked about his rather dull job doing things with numbers, and I talked about my job teaching sociology.
Things were a little awkward, but when he invited me back to his apartment, I thought "Well...he's good at swallowing..um, swords and things."
We sat on the couch, talking and drinking coffee. And talking and drinking coffee. He didn't make any moves. He didn't even touch me. I checked the clock. Then, suddenly, he reached over and took my hand."Well, it's not sword swallowing, but it's a start," I thought.
Staring intently, he brought my hand to his lips as if he intended to kiss it -- but instead he swallowed it!
My hand was in his throat! Saliva and mucus,and his tongue!
With a shriek I ran into the bathroom, splashed water on everything I could think of, and then said I wasn't feeling well and ran out the door.
It wasn't a lie. I felt like I was going to be sick.
I went home and called the Satyr. "Oh, he does that with everybody. And then the poor boy wonders why he doesn't get many second dates."
"When you have a crazy fetish, you should tell people in advance, not just dig in!"
"It's a rite of passage around here," the Rapper told me. "Once you've been swallowed by the Sword Swallower, you know you belong."
The Sword Swallower sent notes to the rest of the Gang of Twelve: "Cute, but not into sex. I tried my best move, but I couldn't get him interested!"
Saturday, April 4, 2015
The Rapper and the Grabby Male Nurse
In the fall of 2008, I was living in Upstate New York, dating guys from the Gang of Twelve, who had all known each other for years and talked to each other about everything. Especially their hookups, dates, and boyfriends.
The Rich Kid set me up with the Truck Driver, and then, without telling me, his ex-boyfriend, the Rapper. Days after they broke up.
Date #3: The Rapper. The photos he sent with his introductory email were amazing. He was in his 20s, African-American, short, muscular but tending to fat, and super-sized beneath the belt. Exactly my type!
He grew up in the City, and came Upstate to study music management at SUNY Cooperstown. Now he was working in an insurance agency, but hoped to launch a rap career.
On our date, the Rapper took me to a program of African dance and music at the university, and then back to his apartment, where he performed one of his rap numbers
Of course, I spent the night. In the morning, over breakfast, I told him about my dates with the Rich Kid and the Truck Driver.
"The Truck Driver!" he exclaimed. "That's my ex! Figures that the Rich Kid would fix you up with both of us, and wait to see the fireworks!"
I stared, feeling stupid. How could I have gone through dates with both of them and not noticed?
"He was exactly my type, " the Rapper continued. "I'm into tall white dudes with muscles and an extra-big package. Man, he had everything!"
"Well, I don't like to brag, but..."
He grinned. "Don't get jealous on me, man. You have everything, too."
"Do you think the Truck Driver will mind us dating?" I asked.
"Well, it's kind of soon after the breakup, so don't tell him, ok? Or the Rich Kid. Not for awhile, anyway."
But there were only a small number of gay-friendly venues Upstate, and the guys in the Gang of Twelve. all talked to each other.
The next morning we were getting ready to go to breakfast, when the Truck Driver banged on the door.
"You don't waste any time, do you?" he yelled in his cute British accent. "How long did you wait before cruising the New Kid? Twenty minutes?"
"You had a date with him before I did!" the Rapper exclaimed.
"But nothing happened! We just talked. But not you -- you sent him X-rated pictures before you even met!"
"How did you find out about that?" He glared at me. "Not much for keeping secrets, are you, New Kid?"
"I didn't say anything!"
No third date. But other members of the Gang of Twelve were waiting for their turn.
Date #4: The Grabby Male Nurse. In his 40s, formerly muscular but now a little paunchy. On our date, we went shopping at some of the antique shops in town.
For all his interest in secrecy, the Rapper gossiped as much as everyone else in the Gang of Twelve. He gave the Nurse notes: "can't keep a secret"; plus moment-by-moment accounts of our two nights together.
So the Grabby Male Nurse was expecting a porn star.
He was a sleazoid, one of those obnoxious guys in the clubs who keep leering and groping regardless of how much Attitude you display. Of course, in public, he had to leer and grope subtly, when no one was looking. Which made it all the more annoying.
Plus he turned everything I said into a sexual reference.
"I taught in Dayton for three years."
Wow, hot college boys! How many of them did you offer a little...um....extra credit in your office? Leer, leer.
"I grew up in Illinois."
Ooh, Chicago! I bet you got a lot of action there! Leer, leer.
"My grandmother studied art."
I see -- Grandma liked painting those nude male models, did she?" Wink, wink, nudge, nudge, say no more!
Yet the Nurse acted like he was in a cruise bar, trying to grope me, leering at the male patrons. He knew the waiter -- an Asian guy named Chad -- and openly flirted with him, even asking him an inappropriate question about the size of the Asian penis. I gave him an extra big tip to make up for the embarrassment.
Then the Nurse suggested that we go back to his apartment.
I was done. "Sorry...my favorite tv show is on."
"You can watch it at my place." He grabbed my crotch. "Or we can watch porn. Your choice."
I disentangled myself and ran home and hid.
The Nurse sent notes to the rest of the Gang of Twelve: Nice guy, but all he can think about is sex.
I saw Chad again during Date #5: The Satyr and his Boy Toy.
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