Better With Age

If Alice had lived in New York City she wouldn't have worried about Wonderland. In fact, she probably would have been a tranny or a drag queen trolling 8th Avenue looking for a Mad Hatter.

In this instance I would be Alice - minus the dress, hair and pretty much every other thing that makes her Alice. Except for the Mad Hatter piece. In my case, my Mad Hatter is a forty-something that likes to say my name, well what he thinks is my name, and tell me how it is. In a previous post I mentioned going on my first date in some time and we had a sort of follow up date. It was a follow up in the sense that it was the second time we had purposefully gotten together. However, this time it was really just a booty call because I was home alone on a Saturday night.

Trying my hardest to be kind, let me recap the events of the evening. Things get better with age - in the wine world. This is apparently not true in the sex world. I thought only thin lipped people were poor kissers but I have been proven wrong. The constant biting felt something like a bulldog attacking my face. Not to mention that I was being pushed away due to "over-excitement". It's fine if you're quick to finish your business but learn to accept it rather than making me wait. Honestly, I could have run out for a cup of coffee, returned and still had time to read a magazine.

The only thing worse was what I can only describe as a leg wrap. The Mad Hatter, did I mention he was formerly the Doctor in a past post, kept wrapping his legs around me in the strangest way. I was compelled to try and look because the pain inflicted on my shins left me curious as to what the hell was going on down there. When it was finally over he wanted to talk.

Not, how are you talk, but tell me how I am talk. Every other sentence was telling me how level headed and together I am. Then the Mad Hatter started in on telling me when I get to be older I'll feel and think this and that. Oh my lord, it's like he's never spoken to me, or anyone, before. Who really wants to be told how it is? For sure not me. If anything, I'll do the opposite just to prove a person wrong. As my high school best friend said when we spoke for the first time in years, "You haven't changed at all".

At this point I'm doing my best to avoid the calls from the Mad Hatter. There's no way I'm enduring that again. I've moved on, though he thinks he has found a booty call.

Later Dater

People joke that if you don't have sex you'll get rusty and forget how. It occurred to me that this may also apply to dating. I hadn't been on a first date since November of 2009, and decided I better make some effort before officially retiring to my world of solitude.

I'm not a brunch person but agreed to meet my date one Sunday morning for a quick bite. This is slightly ironic because London (Who by the way now lives in NYC and is being called: No Longer London) invites me to brunch now and then and it never works out. Brunch is just such a pain in the ass, the only benefit is getting to drink without judgement. Keeping with my naming convention, this guy has been deemed, The Doctor. Oral Doctor to be specific - and I mean that in the surgical context.

The date was actually decent. It was nice to talk to someone that wasn't trying to get me in a cab with my pants around my ankles. It may be because he's a slight bit older than I am... twenty years give or take. The only downside is that he's in the commitment phase as he inches closer to death more quickly than myself. Not sexy. Anyone looking for commitment should get a kitty. It never works when someone tries to smother me with anything other than a pillow.

A second date has been planned, but only after running into The Doctor in Union Square. It was comically uncomfortable as I was with Shew and the questions started coming. To be honest, I don't like my friends or family knowing about my dating life (what little of one I now have). They pry, pester and bug the shit out of me.

As long as the dating continues, sharing the experience with the world outside of my immediate contacts seems best. People in cyberspace are so easy to relate.