I met a strapping young lad one evening after viewing a train wreck of a Cubs game at Wrigley Field. He was funny, intelligent, interesting and also, amazingly, seemed quite smitten with me. A few days later we decided to meet up at a local watering hole. We discussed the state of the Iraqi war, argued about politics, and shared our hopes and deepest fears.
Fine, we drank one too many beers, pawed at one other like teenagers and giggled…a lot. Clearly things were going well!
Notice I said “were” going well…
I decided to share with him an interestingly funny story about a party I had recently attended with an engaged couple. At this party, Mr. Bethroved started making out with another man…while sitting next to his fiancée. She seemed perfectly ok with the make out session which I found perplexing.
Was this story inappropriate for a first date? Possibly. Note to self: Drinking four beers on an empty stomach WILL get you drunk. Is this blog about my issues though? No it is not.
After telling the story, Gayson looked at me blankly, not understanding why I thought the party’s awkward grope session was out of Bizarro Land. Jokingly, I asked him if he had ever made out with a guy. He confidently looked me in the eyes and without hesitation stated: “Why yes I have.”
Instantly my head was filled with the image of him gyrating his pelvis to ‘In the Navy’ while wearing shrunken sailor garb. I shook the thought and confirmed he was still sporting his very heterosexual T-shirt, jeans, and hat combo. So Beer #4 decided to ask him if he’s ever slept with another man. He waved dismissively and assuredly exclaimed: “No no, I’ve never SLEPT with a man.”
My inquisitive nature knew there was something more behind this. So Beer #4 inquired further: “Blow job?” Well, to my surprise, not only had he received a BJ, but he had also given one to another man. “But it only happened that one time, and because it was something I was curious about.” He started to defend himself but then stopped, stating he was not “your typical guy” and then changed the subject to inquire if I wanted to order any meatballs or perhaps some sort of phallic-shaped sausage.
I scratched my head and looked down at myself to confirm I had NOT grown a shaft and testes in the past few hours. He must know I’m a woman, right? I was hoping my ample cleavage would offset the Adam’s apple and faint mustache. Apparently not?
Now I do consider myself a woman of the times. I have many close gay friends. I wave my rainbow flag high. But when it comes to men I want to date, I do not want to get tips on the latest hummer techniques.
Dating Rule #5:
If you know what another man’s sperm tastes like, you will not be seeing me naked. But is it ok to call you for help with a vexing home decorating dilemma?