Once upon a time, in a fairytale storybook, all the tales were one-sided. It was the princess that got all the best perks. Think about it. Custom designed clothes and shoes, lovers with money and vast amounts of real estate, and the ability to sleep for years without aging a day. But what did the prince's get? They got wives who were lazy, wives with obsessive complusive cleaning disorders, and wives who had a history of sleeping with little men. Undoubtedly unfair. So it came as no surprise, that I was chosen to break such a tradition.
Friday night, I was contemplating on who to go out with: Corrie or Gay Guy? With Corrie, I could almost predict what kind of night we would have. With my Gay Guy, I wasn’t as sure, since I really didn’t know anything about him. Not even his name. The only thing I knew was that he was going to pick me up at seven, in front of my house.
At that moment my phone rang. It was Gay Guy, who turned out to be a guy named Paul. He was already on the road and said he’d be in my area in half an hour. Contemplating whether to go out with a guy or a girl took more time than I thought. So with a half hour to go and no fairy godmother in sight to help me out, I donned my faded DKNY jeans and my square-toed, Italian chocolate, patent leather shoes. Sure, they weren’t glass slippers, but like the hot sales girl said, they did shine.
At 7:03, in lieu of arriving via golden pumpkin and white horses, Paul arrived in a 2001 BMW E46 M3. That combination of letters and numbers said two things to me: 1) the guy obviously had good taste in cars and 2) hello, new friend!
PAUL: Hi! I'm Paul!
ME: I'm David.
PAUL: Well, David, let me just break the ice and be frank.
ME: Uh, OK...
PAUL: You have really nice eyes.
ME: Oh. Uh, thanks.
PAUL: And your shoes? I'm jealous!
ME: Oh, um...
PAUL: Am I making you nervous?
ME: No! No...it's just, well, I've never really done this before.
PAUL: Oh. Well, here. Take this.
ME: What is it?
PAUL: It's a diet supplementary with calcium. It'll calm you down.
We werent even 30 seconds into our gay date, and already Paul was judging me from head to toe. Literally. And despite offering me a diet pill, I had to admire and smile at Paul for being so honest. You had to give him props for being comfortable enough to be himself.
An hour later later we arrived at Anthony's In The Catalinas, a restaurant that boasted both a beautiful view of the Catalina Mountains and the number one place to be proposed to. Only seriously involved people dined there, so it was a little surprising that Paul chose this as a first dinner date.
Two appetizer's and a stuffed quail dinner later, I started to think of how nice it was that I was being treated out to a high-end restaurant and how good it felt that I didn’t actually have to pay for anything. But I couldn’t enjoy myself. I kept thinking that I would run into somebody I knew and I wondered what I would do or say if someone I knew approached me. Would I introduce Paul as a friend? Or as Social Experiment No. 69?
I mean, I barely knew the guy myself. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized I wasnt as comfortable going out with a gay guy as I thought I was. I mean, sure, I've hung out with gay friends, but everytime I did, there was always a girl in the mix, you know? And I dont know if it was a girl's pressence that made me feel more at ease or if it was just the fact I didnt know Paul and this was all just "first-time-gay-date jitters", but something on my face let Paul something was up.
As it turns out, Paul was actually facing the same concerns. He had never hung out with a straight guy, one-on-one, and was intimidated to do anything I might deem as "queer." We laughed, and wondered if it was society's approval or our friends approval that kept us from being ourselves.
PAUL: Well, you know, Tucson really isnt a gay spot. Phoenix is.
ME: Well, that makes more sense. It's more urbanized.
PAUL: Meaning?
ME: Meaning that Tucson isnt really a hip-happenin' place. And to me, I've always thought the majority of you gay guys were hip-happenin kinda guys, so Phoenix would make a better place than here, you know?
PAUL: True.
ME: Plus, if it really is a gay spot, it would probably make this dinner go a lot smoother.
PAUL: What are you doing tomorrow?
Saturday afternoon, I found myself roaming down the isles of the IKEA store in Tempe with Paul. He had convinced me that because the greater Phoenix area was more open-minded than Tucson, and the fact we were less likely to run into somebody we knew, it would be a great way to start fresh.
So there we were, in a giant warehouse, in search for the perfect desk chair. But all Paul found was disappointment. Too hard. Too red. Too square. Too tall. To Paul, none of the chairs would suffice at all. So instead we ended our quest to find the perfect chair, and proceeded to find Paul the perfect boyfriend. It was weird scoping out possible lovers for my new gay friend on gay date number two, but when you put sexual orientation aside, wasnt Paul just another person looking for love? And when you put sexual orientation aside again, wasnt Paul was just a really cool guy?
In a city where nobody knew my name, away from the judgement of friends and family, it was easier to be myself. And as myself, I felt ashamed that it took me two outings and 200 hundred miles to realize I was an ass. Why was I so concerned about what my friends and family thought? Was I that shallow? Wasn't it their loss that they chose to be small minded and have few friends?
I was about to ask Paul if he was still weirded out about everything, when I started to wonder if it was possible for two people of the same sex, with different sexual orientation, to be friends? Or was it just as hard as a guy and a girl being friends? Was I still being small-minded like the evil, wicked step-people in fairy tales? You know, the ones that refused to let the heroes and heroines from living happily ever after...
Friday night, I was contemplating on who to go out with: Corrie or Gay Guy? With Corrie, I could almost predict what kind of night we would have. With my Gay Guy, I wasn’t as sure, since I really didn’t know anything about him. Not even his name. The only thing I knew was that he was going to pick me up at seven, in front of my house.
At that moment my phone rang. It was Gay Guy, who turned out to be a guy named Paul. He was already on the road and said he’d be in my area in half an hour. Contemplating whether to go out with a guy or a girl took more time than I thought. So with a half hour to go and no fairy godmother in sight to help me out, I donned my faded DKNY jeans and my square-toed, Italian chocolate, patent leather shoes. Sure, they weren’t glass slippers, but like the hot sales girl said, they did shine.
At 7:03, in lieu of arriving via golden pumpkin and white horses, Paul arrived in a 2001 BMW E46 M3. That combination of letters and numbers said two things to me: 1) the guy obviously had good taste in cars and 2) hello, new friend!
PAUL: Hi! I'm Paul!
ME: I'm David.
PAUL: Well, David, let me just break the ice and be frank.
ME: Uh, OK...
PAUL: You have really nice eyes.
ME: Oh. Uh, thanks.
PAUL: And your shoes? I'm jealous!
ME: Oh, um...
PAUL: Am I making you nervous?
ME: No! No...it's just, well, I've never really done this before.
PAUL: Oh. Well, here. Take this.
ME: What is it?
PAUL: It's a diet supplementary with calcium. It'll calm you down.
We werent even 30 seconds into our gay date, and already Paul was judging me from head to toe. Literally. And despite offering me a diet pill, I had to admire and smile at Paul for being so honest. You had to give him props for being comfortable enough to be himself.
An hour later later we arrived at Anthony's In The Catalinas, a restaurant that boasted both a beautiful view of the Catalina Mountains and the number one place to be proposed to. Only seriously involved people dined there, so it was a little surprising that Paul chose this as a first dinner date.
Two appetizer's and a stuffed quail dinner later, I started to think of how nice it was that I was being treated out to a high-end restaurant and how good it felt that I didn’t actually have to pay for anything. But I couldn’t enjoy myself. I kept thinking that I would run into somebody I knew and I wondered what I would do or say if someone I knew approached me. Would I introduce Paul as a friend? Or as Social Experiment No. 69?
I mean, I barely knew the guy myself. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized I wasnt as comfortable going out with a gay guy as I thought I was. I mean, sure, I've hung out with gay friends, but everytime I did, there was always a girl in the mix, you know? And I dont know if it was a girl's pressence that made me feel more at ease or if it was just the fact I didnt know Paul and this was all just "first-time-gay-date jitters", but something on my face let Paul something was up.
As it turns out, Paul was actually facing the same concerns. He had never hung out with a straight guy, one-on-one, and was intimidated to do anything I might deem as "queer." We laughed, and wondered if it was society's approval or our friends approval that kept us from being ourselves.
PAUL: Well, you know, Tucson really isnt a gay spot. Phoenix is.
ME: Well, that makes more sense. It's more urbanized.
PAUL: Meaning?
ME: Meaning that Tucson isnt really a hip-happenin' place. And to me, I've always thought the majority of you gay guys were hip-happenin kinda guys, so Phoenix would make a better place than here, you know?
PAUL: True.
ME: Plus, if it really is a gay spot, it would probably make this dinner go a lot smoother.
PAUL: What are you doing tomorrow?
Saturday afternoon, I found myself roaming down the isles of the IKEA store in Tempe with Paul. He had convinced me that because the greater Phoenix area was more open-minded than Tucson, and the fact we were less likely to run into somebody we knew, it would be a great way to start fresh.
So there we were, in a giant warehouse, in search for the perfect desk chair. But all Paul found was disappointment. Too hard. Too red. Too square. Too tall. To Paul, none of the chairs would suffice at all. So instead we ended our quest to find the perfect chair, and proceeded to find Paul the perfect boyfriend. It was weird scoping out possible lovers for my new gay friend on gay date number two, but when you put sexual orientation aside, wasnt Paul just another person looking for love? And when you put sexual orientation aside again, wasnt Paul was just a really cool guy?
In a city where nobody knew my name, away from the judgement of friends and family, it was easier to be myself. And as myself, I felt ashamed that it took me two outings and 200 hundred miles to realize I was an ass. Why was I so concerned about what my friends and family thought? Was I that shallow? Wasn't it their loss that they chose to be small minded and have few friends?
I was about to ask Paul if he was still weirded out about everything, when I started to wonder if it was possible for two people of the same sex, with different sexual orientation, to be friends? Or was it just as hard as a guy and a girl being friends? Was I still being small-minded like the evil, wicked step-people in fairy tales? You know, the ones that refused to let the heroes and heroines from living happily ever after...
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