Borderline

So, I went out last night, after a late night of babysitting. As usual, I felt good; I had every right to. This diet has begun to yield results. My face is beginning to take a sharper, tighter, and younger form. A single gal pal of mine, Amy, met me at my place and we took a cab into town (all of 1.5 miles).

It’s funny how misleading the names of some bars can be. The hip-hop bars, at least in my experience, always contain dorks with no rhythm and people who are so thin that they should be at a buffet, not a bar. At the gay bars, all the guys want to look “straight,” shunning any displays of femininity save from the ever-diminishing number of drag queens. AND at Cuba Libre, there are crowds of soul-less weirdoes who can’t dance (except on tables and the bar) and who do not emit that sense of Latin flavor to which I have grown quite accustomed. Am I wrong to expect that at CUBA LIBRE I shall be able to gawk at brown boys with muscles too big for their shirts and feet so quick that you’re in bed before you can ask his name?

Please don’t mistake my frustration for bitterness. Last night in particular was not the most emotionally reinforcing. It’s odd really. Let me explain: Being the one gay boy in a crowd of straight people, usually females, is cool enough, though one often feels the odd one out for understandable reasons. It’s really uncomfortable, however, when there is another gay boy, to whom one has not yet been introduced, hanging out with us.

When it happens to me, I feel like I’m being observed in my natural habitat. We’re the only two people with whom the other could “hook-up,” especially when the night is not spent at a gay bar. The possibilities are usually twofold. We could end up in bed, as I’m sure everyone expects for us, seeing as how we are both gay and thus always willing (hurrah for stereotypes!). The other option, however, is that we’re both into the same sort of guy and our relationship remains platonic. Yes, I know; that’s less fun for our drama-ready friends. I am also not a fan of sex-less relationships with men, but it’s a necessary evil.

What I don’t expect is for that guy to totally IGNORE me! What is that? This is exactly what happened last night. From what I’ve observed prior to last night’s encounter, he’s an otherwise sweet guy. He’s looks fabulous on paper. To be honest, we probably have a lot in common. The problem is that he’s SHY! Grrr …. It’s either that or he was so not into me that he felt that merely talking to me would give me the wrong impression.

I believe that he was just insecure about himself. In my world, it’s okay to FEEL insecure; just please don’t act like it! Homeboy was decent looking. I’m really not sure what was up. There is an array of possible explanations. I’m really just frustrated with the fact that guys are too shy and too easily overwhelmed. What happened to the challenge of a good-looking, charming, confident guy? When did he become so insurmountable?

Meanwhile, I will remain shy and single, for I expect such improvements from all other guys. I am aware of the double standard, but I only initiate flirting when I’m feeling desperate. As long as I remain approachable and willing to answer back, I feel that everyone else should improve his skills before I become someone I’m not.

In the end, I made a fabulous friend: Miss Erin Caro. Super, fabulous, and just it!