Earlier this year, I had been in a self-loathing, dark-hole of “why-me” for a couple days and was starting to develop a “man hater” attitude. So I called up one of my soul kids, S, who is so kick-ass awesome and the person I go to when I need to be told “how it is” when it comes to all things male. He also happens to be gay, a phenomenal dancer and one of the best ego boosters a girl could ask for. So there I sat, face smushed up against arm of the couch, robe on and I vented.  With mascara running down my face and onto the fabric of my white robe, I sniffled, sighed heavily and listened to him straight-talk me. “It’s like something Eddie Murphy said. All men have to divide and conquer as many women as they can. You have to be a man to understand it. We are low by nature and have to do it. I just think it’s bred into our genes before we’re born. We must fulfill our basic instinct to fill the earth and become many.”

Enter me analyzing what he just said and pleading the case of the unknown and imaginary stranger I had built up in my mind, whom I was convinced would be the exception. “No, even your dream guy will be that way. Just shut up. Listen to what I’m telling you. Women say that all men are dogs. You shouldn’t be calling us dogs, because dogs are loyal.”

And then it hit me. Probably the entire duration of my love life, up until the point in this story, I’ve had some fucked up fairy tale notion that the guy I end up with will be  more god- like, do-gooder, faithful of all faithfuls…aka…isn’t really going to be a man.  OF COURSE I don’t understand men, I don’t have a penis. OF COURSE I can’t wrap my brain around why men are men if I’m unwilling to accept the things that just make them men…and dumb.

Suddenly, I stretched out of the little fetal ball I had myself curled up into, wiped away the snot and felt a massive weight lift from my shoulders. I thanked S for his profound insight and he said, “Get sexy. I’m taking you dancing.” And that he did. Where’s the best place for a jilted broad to get her groove on without unwelcome male attention and non-judgment? A male gay bar! It was a night full of Britney and Madonna beats, disco lights and oodles of compliments on my hair.

Then I saw him from across the room. A 6’5″ perfect specimen…sploosh. I went up to S and said, “That’s a god damn shame.” He replied, “huh?”. I looked towards the bar and pointed at the very pretty bartender workin it at the bar. S laughed and said, “Honey, he’s not gay.” I laughed back and said, “You’re fucking delusional. He’s attractive and is working here. How in the hell do you know anyways?” He pulled my arm and lead me over to his partner, B. “Tell Mercedes D’s straight“. B looked at me and smiled, “Oh honey, he is straight as they come. I would know.” Then he winked.

I did the 10 minute stare-down analysis and tried to see if I could prove their theory wrong. The more I watched, the more I guess I could see some straight in him. We made eye contact from across the room, I smiled and the toothy grin was returned. GO TIME. I went up and ordered a drink and then asked for a pen and a piece of paper. I wrote my number down, handed everything back to him, grasped my drink, smiled and walked away. Only one way to find out. If he called me, that would mean he was interested. It would also mean that I wouldn’t be dealing with a pansy ass boy who gets emasculated at the woman making the first move.

I danced my face off the rest of the evening and got my groove back.

A few days later I had a voice mail from D asking me out to dinner. Interesting. I was convinced he much rather preferred Calvin Klein’s to Victoria’s Secret. Mercedes-0, Gay boys – 1. I immediately texted S and B and  they were jumping with ecstatic jovial and homosexual hyper-ness. Actually we were communicating via text so I really can’t concretely say what they were doing. But the text had multiple exclamation points, smiley faces and had an S pre-cursor attached, “I hardly ever endorse people because I think most of them are shit and would never be good enough for you, but this one has my vote. Go Slow.”

First Date: Phenomenal. I’m a huge fan of long conversation over good food, full of giggles, wine consumption and no awkwardness. Go, D. I was actually considering giving this guy some time and effort even though I had just implemented a strict “I don’t date anyone under 30 rule”. He also played me the saxophone without a shirt on. I was down with where this courting phase was going. But alas, it would not last…

I will save the long drawn out version and give you the cliff note version:

1. He was a terrible kisser.  Magic happens in a kiss…sometimes. Other times you feel like you’re sucking face with a horse who just ate a pickle. Me, I’m a slow, passionate and sometimes ferocious kisser. So, I can get a pretty good indication of how we are going to chemically react based upon how someone takes control and smooches me. I was soooooooo disappointed. He was too incredibly good-looking not to rock the lip lock. Sigh…

2. The words “Disney movies ruined romance for me” came out of his mouth. Ummmm, I don’t think I’ve ever heard any male even come close to saying the word romance in serious conversation. I also don’t really have any boys that I hang out with that reference Disney movies. I dig a man’s man.  I would rather listen to you talk about chopping fire wood or that potato you blew up in science class in 3rd grade. Not anything about romance, that’s my job….sad face.

3. I go into shit show mode during baseball. Nothing about me acts like a normal human being from March to October, but more like a crazed, hyperactive squirrel.  So I bought tickets to a playoff game and invited him along so he could see what I meant. I was super excited because in our text conversations he was telling me about how “crazy and wild and fun and shenanigan filled” his personality is.

So D came as my date and B came because he was the only one that wanted to pay X amount of dollars for a playoff ticket. They talked to each other THE ENTIRE TIME. I literally sat there taking dumb pictures of myself AND the old lady knitting a few rows down from us. I even said, “I’m going to sit between you both in just a second if you don’t stop chatting like high school girls.” They completely ignored me. So I bought two beers, downed them both and said, “Alright, tell me something really inappropriate. Shock me.” He gave me a deer in the headlight look and responded with, “I’m actually really inappropriate, Mercedes. I just haven’t showed any of that to you. I don’t want to offend you.” I picked up HIS beer, took a swig and said, “Try me.” What do you think happened? You think he grabbed me and made out with me, or said the most insane shocking thing that ever was or that he dropped trow and mooned everyone behind us or grabbed my chest? None of those things. He turned back around to talk to B. I rolled my eyes and drunkenly instagrammed the rest of the game.

4. Me and the roomies went to his bar to say hi. Boys were falling all over him. My BFF got drunk, walked up to him, rolled her eyes and said, “You got to be fucking kidding me.” I will say she’s a bit protective. But when I saw him slowly take of his shirt after all the little twinks were encouraging him to get half naked and then NOT flinch at all the same sex attention, I think I repeated the same phrase she used.

5. He invited me over to watch a movie. I saw a stack of boy movies, which I dig much more than non-boy movies. So I told him to surprise me and pick one, thinking we’d be watching 300 or some other non-chick flick. Nooooope. He popped in Disney’s A Goofy Movie. I literally could not make out words. He sang the songs, then fell asleep halfway through. I sat on the couch eating almonds and pushing his face into the side of the couch every time he started snoring.

6. The real icing on the cake happened when we kind of sort of stepped out in a group of mutual friends and I noticed a text he sent to his mom calling me “the girlfriend”. After hanging out with our friends he had to run up to the bar he worked at to do some paperwork and he added  “Rocky Horror Picture Show is playing at the bar today and I really don’t want to miss it…“. Well, ok.

I’ve never seen Rocky Horror Picture Show. I know why. The part where the dudes are in lingerie came on and I jokingly said, “Damn, that guy has a pretty nice ass.” D shot me a look and said, “My ass would look soooo much better, don’t you agree?” Then he proceeded to dance and sing around the bar. It really was an epic moment for me. As I’m standing there in a group of his gay patrons, they all look at him prancing about and then at me. One of them leaned over and whispered, “Are you sure he knows that you’re a girl.” He proceeded to do a bunch of jager shots and get intoxicated. That was totally cool, but then I had to listen to some conversation about an old friend “needing to just come out of the closet already”.

Sounds like a wrap to me…

I will say this. I really like D as a person. He’s kind, sweet and everyone genuinely loves him. I know that if I ever needed anything, I could call him and he’d be there in a heartbeat. I still have no clue what sex he really prefers and that’s 100% ok. To each his own. But,  him and I together were like oil and water.

There’s no crying in baseball and there certainly is no crying over the fact that the bartender from the gay bar and I didn’t work out.

Advice: As pretty as that drink slinging piece of man meat looks, all sweaty and perfect under the pink flashing lights of a gay bar, don’t give him your number. If you’re looking for boyfriend material, that is. 

My date would rather talk to a boy. So I'm over here actin' like a ninja.

My date would rather talk to a boy. So I’m over here actin’ like a ninja.

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