The more I think about online match making the more my stomach turns. Using such an impersonal medium as the vast information wasteland of the Internet to find something as personal as a date leaves much to be desired. One evening while online, I saw a guy I had a crush on, a large "N" by his picture which in 3W terminology means "Hook Up Now."
Previously having thought I was over this guy I was instantly angered by his "N." My heart started pumping and in an effort to calm down I went and drew a hot bath thinking Calgon would actually take me far, far away. While stewing in the tub I realized that online dating just isn't for me. The subtle and not so subtle nuances of flirting are all lost online. Shut-ins who have nothing better than to scan personal ads all night long are probably not the best equipped people to get together with. Desperation breeds creepy people.
Jumping out of the tub and into a luxe towel I walked to my computer, intent on erasing all three of my personal profiles off the Internet. I sat down in front of my archaic boat anchor of a HP. I had email. "Forwarded Profile from Planetout Personals" the subject line read. No one had sent me an email from that site in well over a year and a half. This email was like a last minute call from a Governor, allowing my personals to be spared from their impending lethal deletion.
The profile I had received was quite interesting and the man was quite cute. He wanted to meet. I decided I would entertain the idea. After several emails we settled on meeting for some tea at a local coffeehouse. Sitting with a cup of Earl Grey and grading some undergrad papers I waited for the man of mystery to arrive. Fifteen minutes after the time we were supposed to meet I figured I had been stood up. It didn't matter because I was enjoying the atmosphere of the coffeehouse and I actually seemed to be making progress on the mounting pile of doomed grades.
The seat next to me moved and a guy sat down next to me. He was pleasant, attractive and was carrying two books with him-- normally a good sign is that the person can actually read. After receiving his beverage we began talking-- not the usual "Hi, nice to meet you" type of conversation but "What constitutes rape in our society?" He was adamant that it was what the woman decides to say the next day. I disagreed and was mildly offended though I gave him the benefit of the doubt and figured he was being flippant as to appear humorous. After an hour or so of conversation, playing with a local dog named Ruthie, and him giving away one of his books to the barista at the cafe (a noble gesture I thought) we went for a walk.
He was jovial, 34, opinionated and a Wiccan. Should that have told me everything? Before I knew it we had walked into the Pilsner. At the bar was sitting a current friend of mine, a past fling, with a two of his friends. I went up and gave him a hug and so did the guy I was with. Ah, I said to myself, they know each other. We ordered our poisons, sat down and chatted some more. As the evening progressed, with the lubricant of alcohol working its way through my "dates" system, he became more verbose and esoteric.
He kept moving between me and the other group of guys, touching everyone, and stating his theories on gay men, "There are only two types of gay men: Bert's and Ernie's."
As it turns out, he had done the deed with the same guy I had, which is not rare in a city like San Francisco. There's only two degrees of separation in the gay community it seems-- tops and bottoms, Bert's and Ernie's. However, he had tried to hook up with another guy in the group, a seemingly shy cute young guy, just two days prior. As my "date" kept talking about sex, he leaned over and shoved his tongue down my throat. I can't say I minded but I didn't exactly reciprocate.
Five minutes later he was at the end of the bar shoving his tongue down the shy cute young guys throat, who was trying to squirm out of the head lock he had been placed in. Throughout our time in the bar, he had mentioned having a three-way, a four-way, a gang bang, a train with a woman involved, etc. If my last couple of hours with him were like this-- what the hell would a relationship be like with this guy?
The "date" went to use the bathroom and our mutual fling guy pulled me aside, put his arm around me and asked, "What the hell are you doing with this guy? I'm sure you know-- but let me just tell you my experience with him was... bad, bad, bad!"
"You know me. It's all about research for my writing." He laughed gave me a peck on the lips and who should come over and place his head between ours? Of course, the "date."
"Man, it would be so hot to have a three way with both of you."
"You know-- I'm just not in the place for that this evening," said the friend fling man. I concurred. Fling man went home with the cute guy, at least that's what I surmised. That left me sitting there with a highly intoxicated "date."
"I'm hungry. Let's leave," I said picking up my messengers bag and walking to the door. He followed like a drunken puppy. Outside we began walking and the "date" commanded: "Take me home and get me naked."
"My roommates are home, so no."
"Yeah, well I'm drunk so we wouldn't want to have grade C sex especially if your not in to it."
We got turned around because he needed to use the rest room. I told him I would wait for him outside of the Pilsner while I made a phone call and then hail him a cab. That call lasted ten minutes and he hadn't come back outside. I figured he must have met some grade A potential. I don't like walking back through doors I've exited. A J train car was coming into my view so I walked to the platform to catch it. On my arrival back at my apartment, I logged online. I had email but that didn't stop me from executing two of the three personal profiles. Hey, I thought, this was too interesting of an evening not to keep something online.