I realized something disconcerting: when my love life is a disaster zone, I’m quite prolific with my writing. In all areas: blogging, work, school ... the whole sheebang. However, on the flip side, when I’m looking through rose colored glasses, freshly laid and amorous towards my girl, my creative streak takes a hit. I mentioned this to my friend, Melody, who suggested that I write a blog offering advice on how to meet ladies. What on earth gave her the idea that little old me would have anything to say on that topic?? LOL ... Ok, maybe I do. So here it goes: First of all, the most important thing I can stress here is to resist the urge to behave in any stalkery fashion whatsoever. Do not become so obsessed with the first queer girl you make eye contact with that you lose your marbles and scare the poor girl. The last thing you want to do is get served with a restraining order or on a less dramatic note, get blocked from her Facebook. Since a lot of girls I’ve known have apparently had the stalker gene let me reiterate: Do not drive by her house a hundred times. Do not stop by her work a lot unless she works at a supermarket or something and you can legitimately get away with it. And do not cyber stalk her either. Even if she doesn’t know you’re doing it, you know and nothing is more unattractive than desperation. Girls can smell it a mile away. So if you're lucky enough to score her digits, do not text stalk her either. Remember, she could just change her number and how embarrassing will that be when you run into her and she lies about having dropped her phone in the toilet or something equally absurd just to avoid giving you her new number. The main lesson here is to play it cool. You're not cool, you say? I don't care! Act like you are then hug your teddy bear and cry in private. But keep that to yourself. So keeping your self-esteem out of the stalker gutter is of the utmost importance. With that out of the way let’s move on to actually meeting your would-be stalking victim ... Oh wait, you already promised me you wouldn’t do that. So let’s just call her the future object of your affection. The first thing you need to do before you leave the house every day is turn your gaydar on. How do you do that? It’s easy.
Have you ever done something you knew you shouldn’t be doing, but you do it anyway? But you’re so sly about it, you’re absolutely, positively sure…
I was really over Pride by the time we got home. My back was killing me, my head hurt and I felt irritable to say the least. But Remi had been drinking all day and the last thing I was going to do was send my drunk girlfriend out to a Pride after-party without me. So I sucked it up and went with. We knew parking would be a bitch so we circled around surrounding area praying to the parking gods for a lucky spot. It worked and we found a spot a block away. But just as we crossed the street, Remi remembered she had left her cell in the car. So I stood there on the corner as she jogged back. As I was waiting for her I realized that the car I was standing in front of looked just like Mr.’s car. No freakin’ way. What were the odds? I looked in the windows to see if there was any tell-tell sign that it really was her car, but no such luck. By now Remi was running back across the street and I decided it was pointless to tell her that this may or may not be the dreaded ex’s car. By the time we got to Hamburger Mary’s there was a line around the block. Half of our friend’s were eating over at Roscoe’s and the two drunkest of our group was supposed to be saving our spots in line. Here’s some free advice: never send the two most fucked up people in your group to do the most important job. It never works out. As we were looking for our friends in line a huge fight broke out inside the parking lot (which was fenced off for the party). Everyone was standing on tip toe, climbing up on the fence or into trees to try to get a better look. I was scanning the crowd for our friends when I saw my ex, Mr. jumping up on the fence as one of the spectators. My heart jumped into my throat. But not because I was happy to see her. I knew this would be trouble. Should I point her out to Remi? Did she see me already? Should I just act like I didn’t see her and keep my mouth shut, hoping we didn’t run into her later? As soon as Remi made her way back to me through the crowd I blurted out, “Mr.’s here.” “Where?” I pointed her out, Remi smiled and said, “This should be fun.” The line to Hamburger Mary’s was at a standstill due to the fight, which led to the cops being called and fire truck. Apparently some flamers needed to be put out. So this left Remi, myself and two of our friends standing in line behind Mr. for about an hour. Thank God, there were enough people between us that I don’t think Mr. saw us. But that would all change once we got inside. We had finally made it inside and although it was an indoor/outdoor party, I didn’t want to be outdoors any more. I had enough of that while standing in line. So I made up the excuse that I had to find the little girls room just to get inside. But Remi was not about to let me out of her sight. “I’m fine. I’ll be right back.” I insisted. “Hell no, you know who’s here and I do too. You are not going anywhere by yourself tonight. I’m coming with you.” was Remi’s understandable response concerning recent events. So we made our way in and through the pulsing crowd of happy Pride revelers. The music was pounding, it was jammed packed and difficult to cut a path through the party goers. Remi had my hand and was leading me through the crowd when I kid you not, someone hit the slow motion button on my life. The crowd parted and Mr. walks right towards us, makes eye contact first with Remi then with me and back to Remi and says nonchalantly, “Hey guys, what’s up?” I didn’t say a word and tried not to show any expression one way or the other. Remi simply smirked and they locked eyes in a contest of “who could give a smugger look.” I couldn’t believe it. All this time and all the trash that had been whispered in my ear from both sides and when we finally come face to face, Mr. says, "What’s up guys?” Really? Is that all she had to say? There’s a lot of bad blood between Remi and Mr. They had only met once before and that was more then a little antagonistic. Of course at the time I was dating both of them at the same time and was kissing Remi at Ripples when Mr. walked up. But since then a lot had transpired to make both women feel like they had a legitimate grudge against one another. If for no other reason now other then they rubbed one another the wrong way. There were a few more random sightings of Mr. throughout the night. At one point we were dancing a few feet away from her and her very tall date. Another time we saw her smoking on the patio and decided to avoid the drama and go out the other way. But it wasn’t long until we were going through a doorway when Remi and Mr. came face to face again. Mr. smirked again, like she’s so good at doing and Remi, having had a few beers and growing tired of it, shoulder checked Mr. pretty hard as they passed by one another. Mr. then bumped into me pretty hard and said once again, “Hey, what’s up?” so casually I was actually confused. The last time I heard from her a week prior and she told me “Fuck you bitch fucking go to hell!” So I pretty much assumed she hated my guts at this point. She has also said, on several occasions that she'd love nothing more then to beat down my girlfriend and put her in her place. Or something to that effect. (To be fair, I should make it clear that both women have expressed similar feelings towards one another.) The night was winding down and most of our friends had left for the evening to care for the overly drunk in our crew. Leaving behind myself, Remi and Little R. I hadn’t had so much as a sip of alcohol all day which was a good thing since Remi and Little R were having plenty for all of us. We were about ready to leave when we saw Mr. and her date doing the same. I thought we should hang back and wait a little bit, since remember as fate would have it Mr. and Remi ended up parking right across from one another. Not one to back down from any possible confrontation and Remi insisted that we go when we had wanted to go, not changing any plans for Mr. Mr. and her date were just crossing the street to our side when Remi shouts out to her, “Ohhhhhhh shit, look at this, It’s Mr.” and laughs out loud in a way that sounded more like a challenge then anything. A few words were exchanged as we passed each other on the sidewalk but Mr. waited till we were well out of striking distance before she started her trash talking. While we may have been out of striking distance, we were not out of ear shot. Remi heard this and took it as her opening to unleash on Mr.
Although very supportive, my mother occasionally lets things slip out that make me wonder how OK she really is with having a gay daughter. Most of the time I think it’s just that she wishes I wasn’t so out about it. My girlfriend and I are constantly hearing this from her, “Don’t hold hands or kiss in public. It’s just too dangerous. You don’t know what kind of sickos are out there that might want to hurt you.” While that may be true, my girlfriend and I always look at each other and say, “Let someone try something, that will be the worst day of their sorry lives.” Deep down I know my mom has a point. But her point and my point end up in different places. Her take on the situation is that there are prejudice, bigoted asses out there that are ignorant enough to be physically violent under the right circumstances, i.e., drunk or just pissed enough to see that a woman gets more and better quality pussy then they do.
A lot of things have changed since my gf moved in. Most of them, for the better. But there are a few things I miss from my “single days.” Topping that list would have to be car sex. Sure, when we were merely dating, we always had sex in the car, on the beach and basically anyplace that we could get away with. There were many a night that after she crawled out from under the dashboard or broke her center console, or I kept turning the windshield wipers and hazard lights on with my toe, that we wished we had the luxury of a bed. I often thought to myself, “Wow, if it’s this good in all these weird positions think of how good it’s going to be when we’re actually in a bed!” And it was .... it is. But I’m starting to miss car sex. The other night we were trying to duplicate a particular position that we had only been able to achieve in the backseat of my caddy. After a few tries we realized that the magic to that particular trick requires a backseat, hands propped up on the door handle and back of the front seat, with my right foot braced against the window while she keeps one foot on the floor. Not to mention that this is not possible without a certain amount of flexibility involved. Anyhoo, that drove my point home. I miss and may actually need car sex.