Oops, I did it again.
News Flash: I’m apparently needy…
While out having a little solo misadventure, I gently hit on a guy. I’d just seen a movie and stopped on the way home for a Pallet Jack at Kelly’s Olympian. Really, I was just being nice, offering him a drink.
He declined, but we made polite conversation as we sat a barstool apart.
I learned that he’d just moved here two months ago – you know how I love those fresh arrivals – from Arizona. I mentioned my parents are visiting there now, which made him chuckle. When I asked why, he told me that the jokes about snowbirds and basically old people in general are no joke.
He is still looking for a good fitting job. He’s in his second home since moving up here, the first place just wasn’t a good fit. His housemate at the new place is a much more comfortable fit, personality-wise.
Anyway, he finished his drink and left. Then he came back a few minutes later and handed me a note and quickly scampered off. It basically said that he wasn’t sure whether I had been flirting with him or not, the dangers of being me. Although we weren’t in a gay bar, so I get his caution. But the note had his number and told me to text him if I had been.
Because I still got a little game.
It was way better than that time I used a cheesy pick up line on a guy at The Cuff.
How does it feel to be the best looking guy in this dump?
It was a slow night. There was only six people there and the dance bar and patio weren’t even open. Usually, there were a lot more ugly people there.
Or the time I shamelessly hit on a friend of D-Slice at one of her Free Drink Friday gatherings. I mean, that’s just bad form…hitting on your friend’s friends.
But we were talking and he had the most beautiful smile. Absolutely radiant!
It was quite beyond my control.
Even worse is the time I’m cruising down the street with my top down and see a good looking guy getting into a car, honk, yell “woo-hoo!” and it ends up actually being my neighbor.
See? That last one was just bad game altogether! But it was like 15 years ago or so.
So what’s the big deal? What did I do again? Why am I needy?
(At least what am I needy about now?)
The first three guys were all FTM trans folk. That last example was my lesbian neighbor.
I’m sure I’ve inadvertently made passes at even more trans people that went nowhere and they either never mentioned it or I never got to know them well enough to learn that information.
But what I know about myself is that I want the heart I desire to be attached to the plumbing I recreationally enjoy.
Hopefully all that says about me is that I’m simply not the Kinsey Six everyone would imagine me to be…worst-case, I’m just a Five. If it makes me out to appear transphobic, well, I would hope it doesn’t.
But, am I? Are genitals shallow to the degree of being superficial in love? Am I misdefining what I’m looking for in my love life and conflagrating (Made Up Word Alert!) it with a sex life?
Either way, I’m striking out.
But at least my pick up game has gotten smoother as we’ve traveled forward in time.