To Crush a Crush

A crush is like having the flu. You don't really know when or where you picked it up, how long it will last, and there's no sure fire way to make it go away.

Originally my crush on Mr. Kitty had faded away due to lack of interaction. That changed two weeks ago when I attended a friend's holiday party. I knew Mr. Kitty was going to be at the party because he made a point of letting me know via text. This wasn't the motivation for attending, most of my friends were going so it was mandatory fun time. About an hour or so in I was heading out of the party for a short break while passing Mr. Kitty on the steps. As I had my focus on getting outside, I said a quick hello and kept on my way. He then text to ask if I was coming back.

Eventually I made my way back into the party, wet from rain and my glasses a streaky mess. Mr. Kitty and I ended up chatting most of the evening, from the living room to the bedroom. When I was finally ready to leave and hit the bar with my friends I said a quick goodbye. Much to my surprise, Mr. Kitty stole a kiss. It was odd because to be honest I have really not been getting a vibe that there was any interest on his part. It was also shocking because I'm not a public affection person - scratch that, I am a no affection of any type person.

This of course kicked my brain into 'think mode.' Meaning, I get girl brain and begin asking myself what everything meant and of course the worst thing happened... my crush returned full force. Over the next two weeks Mr. Kitty would pretty much vanish until last weekend when I was intoxicated and sent a message and then yesterday when out of the blue he asked if I was going away for Christmas. Questions that seem to show interest, but I can decipher if it's that or just general boredom on his part. So of course I provided what I thought to be clever answers that did not encourage the continuation of the conversation.

This is part of my person crush detox. I hate the feeling of a crush, it's annoying and similar to the feeling of a rash. So, my process is to personally not engage, nor set up conversations like the above mentioned in a way where the other person can easily engage. Second, I talk to my friends that are in relationships and ask them to tell me all of the miserable details. Ray Ray shared that she and her boyfriend never have sex, never go out, sit in front of the television and basically do nothing but rot away. It's soothing to know.

Like I said, there's no sure fire way to get rid of a crush, but the mind games I play with myself seem to be doing the trick.

Fairy Go Round

Now and again I get a wild hair and want to try one of the normal things that other people do - dating! A simple thing like getting coffee and having a conversation, what can possibly go wrong?

I met a boy, whose name I must temporarily withhold out of fear it will ruin the story, for coffee one scorching summer afternoon. Now, if you're a gay you know this, and if you're anyone else you may not; in the gay world there isn't really dating. There are "date" apps used as a fairy-go-round so you can instantly access penis and have it at your door faster than Domino's. It works well for the most part for a quick romp, other than those people who use Photoshop on themselves or photos from the '80's.

Generally an invitation for coffee via app gets no attention but I was feeling crazy. Plus, I'm still trying to understand why my friends are constantly subjecting themselves to other people. We meet and the guy clearly hadn't taken a recent picture in thirty pounds. Now top that with the silence he radiated and you have me as a non-stop chatter box, mainly talking to myself. Here's where it should have ended as it wasn't much different than the conversations I have with myself all day long.

After twenty minutes I called it quits and He finally decides to talk. Wanting to know what I'll be doing after he gets off work. Since he's a waiter and works nights, generally that time of the evening calls for sexy business. However, there's no way I'm letting that crawl on top of me. I flat out say no and give an honest answer - I don't want to hang out. Again, the message seemed clear from my end, but apparently I was speaking a foreign language that only I know.

By the time I went to bed I had received seventeen text messages. The next day another twelve and the following day a record twenty-two messages from Texty. If someone doesn't reply to 98% of your messages do you keep sending them? The answer is no. If someone doesn't respond you are risking things by sending a second and third message. Message four verges on crazy town and everything after number ten means I need to enter the dating protection program.

I've learned my summer lesson and will be sure to keep to myself. Apps are for sexy fun and nothing more!

Last Friday Night

Foxxy Business and I set out for a few drinks, hitting the usual haunts. A few hours passed, a nice buzz set in and things wrapped up with fast food and a late train ride home. That seemed to be the end of things as I made my way home. The couch called at to me...as did the forty chilling in the fridge.

Delta had other plans. Around 2:00 a.m. the text messages began to roll in, beckoning me to meet up at Bar East. A resisted as long as possible, but when he upped the ante and offered to pay for drinks it was impossible to say no. It was one of those Grindr free meet-ups that you knew would have the same outcome. Letting my impaired judgement get the best of me I headed out the door and up the street.

We drank for a few hours, some random drunk girl coming over to escape her date. She was entertaining until she decided to start asking questions about gay people. Unfortunately, I'm not a gay wiki waiting for her to peruse my selection. Once rid of the bug-eyed Betty, Delta suggested we leave and I swear tried to end the night and go home. Delta then told me he had beers at home in the fridge - it's like catnip to me!

At Delta's place, by the way he earned this name based on his place of employment (don't judge me for playing with a flight attendant), we had the crappiest airline beers I've ever had. Just because they say they're Italian, does not mean the taste is better. The beer was followed by mediocre kissing and if I was a wise man things would have ended based on this. No, I continued.

If you aren't cut then leaving your shirt on is a requirement - mostly because I don't need the memory tainted by flab. Once that was our of the way, pants came off and I'll be damned if his little soldier wasn't less than average. At this point I'd checked out and needed to wrap things up and leave. Delta on the other hand was just getting started.

Delta performed the two things that make me cringe. He's a booty licker and a finger sticker. - nooooo! It was like trying to fight off an Asian impatiently waiting to take your order. Once I put the kibosh on that I had to finish Delta off so I could escape. He was all hands, making it impossible to concentrate. Finally I gave up and faked it with a moan and a hand full of spit. It's amazing how many guys can be fooled in the dark. What a dumb-ass.

It made for an interesting night as I made my way home around six. Now I'm left avoiding texts and hoping to not run into Delta on the train. There will definitely not be a second performance. 

Single Status

Last night I stood in the middle of a bar as the crowd swarmed around The Animator and myself. Observing others is always interesting, watching who does what and their reactions to surroundings. Catching a couple out of the corner of my eye brought a momentary flashback to what feels like a past life. I watched as one pulled the other close and let the room know that they were together. That’s something I can remember from previous relationships.

It would seem normal to reminisce about missing the feeling of belonging, but the feeling that flooded over me was relief. A sense of satisfaction settling on my mind; I don’t belong to anyone and there’s no need to explain my actions, reactions or decisions. Following this thought around my mind, I traipsed through forgotten memories of former boyfriends. There were the needy guys, the controlling guys, and the obnoxious, sweet and weird guys. Pick a guy and I’ve dated someone that fits the mold.

Lately I’ve been going through ex-boyfriends to ensure I’m happy with the decisions I’ve made. Newbie was the first in this experiment, which happened by chance. It was one night when he drunk dialed me looking for a piece of ass. Upon arriving there was some rolling around under the sheets. It was like being a teenager again: Things were bumpy, awkward and not completely hard. At one point I started to laugh because I could picture how this would end up on virtual paper. He left early the next morning and we haven’t spoken since. I suspect there will be no future encounters unless we bump in to one another in public.

This experiment with ex-boys is a test of my single status. Am I truly single by choice, or is it caused by the bitterness that has been growing over the past ten years?  After observing a lot and experimenting a little I’m leaning towards the first, though this is not my final conclusion. It’s almost as if I’m missing the dating gene. Others seek love. I seek coffee. Some people are hoping to get married and have a child. I plan to work until I am forced to retire or die.

The only problem with my single status remaining permanent is that the people around me will eventually fade into the crowd and vanish. Single means just that, in the end you stand at the finish line completely alone. In some oddly comfortable way this does not sound depressing or unusual in my head. Not to say at some point I won’t give in and date some seemingly perfect person that comes along. Though I can guarantee that nothing will out last my ninety-day dating habits.