You're Not One of Those Proud Fags...

...except on Gay Pride. On that day you tend to be very proud. But when you're fumbling around on Connexion looking at all the boys who are typically much more physically available then they are mentally, you decide to send a quick note to a really hot architect that says, "i just read/watched the fountainhead so i'm all about architects. especially ones that are hotter than howard roark and mike brady combined." You're quite shocked when you get an immediate response, but you feel more like an ostrich who wants to bury his head in the sand when you read the email, "hey, we've met. we went to grey gardens together. remember?" Although it was years ago, you certainly remember the night you met. A guy you were dating took you and some of his friends to Grey Gardens for Christmas. And the hot Howard Roark-Brady was one of the friends. And as if it wasn't bad enough that you just hit on the friend, you have also been called out for not remembering him! Come to think of it, you also forgot him once on the street when he said hello and had to explain who he was. Oy. But instead of making a big deal about it, you just swallow your pride and apologize profusely before quickly signing off so you can go kill yourself.

But before you get a chance to log off you receive another email. Luckily it's from someone you've never met (or at least hope you've never met), and he's connected to you through your old boss. He actually comments on something you wrote in your profile, which means he actually read your profile, which means he can actually read. But none of this is important because the guy is GORGEOUS! He's got an amazing profile and a great job. His profile seems smart and witty, and he seems to be just your type. There's only one little teensy-weensy problem. The guy lives in West Hollywood.

You quickly wind up breaking not just one, but most all of your cardinal dating rules: Don't pursue a boy who doesn't live in New York, Don't have too much communication with a boy you've never met, Don't trust an online profile with a professional headshot, and Don't trust an online profile of a boy who blatantly ignores posting his height or weight. But you quickly find yourself caught up in a very intense, frenzied email exchange with what you imagine might be a wee 'ho from WeHo. The good news is that you have plans to be in LA in less than a month, the other good news is that he's looking to relocate and NYC is his first choice.

After a day of silly back and forth emails you find yourself hoping that the WeeHo does move to New York. And even though you know it's a ridiculous thing to hope, the fact that this false hope has somehow seemed to squash your recent obsession with being dissed and dismissed by Blonde Beard on the street last week. All of Blonde Beard's bullshit suddenly fades away, so you let yourself get lost in the WeeHo fantasy.

The emails graduate to text messages, and the text messages graduate to picture messages. In one form or another, the two of you are in constant e-contact all week long. You like that he challenges you to be funny. Although you have confidence in your writing in regards to your communication, you are actually terrified to talk to him. You are a bit phone phobic. You are especially phobic of talking to strangers on the phone. And you're worried that all of the time and energy you've poured into your pretend relationship with the WeeHo could disappear in one awkward phone call. So you put it off.

So one night when you are watching "Becoming Jane" (yes, you are that gay), you immediately pause it when a email pops through from the WeeHo asking you how you like Fall, which seems like a bizarre question until you realize that the WeeHo is asking about a song that he has sent along as, ironically enough, an attachment. You respond:

so funny. when you asked about fall i thought you meant "how do i like autumn?" i was like, bitch, don't go ending my summer a week early! but i am listening to it right now and i like the lyrics. falling is exactly what i strive to do in life. easier said than done.

speaking of which... this is a weird experience for me. i have lots of rules about this online dating thing, and one of my biggies is "don't put too much effort into anybody before you meet in person." the funny thing is that i want to put effort into this. i'm enjoying it. and i can't even meet you! damn, i want to meet you. it's like my own little sleepless in seattle. i should put that in my netflix queue, although i remember it bugging me when i first saw it.

you asked if you were saying too much? not at all. you're saying all the right things actually. and you don't seem guarded. at all. although most of the time i come off as completely unguarded (without an edit button), i am actually quite guarded in certain respects. i learned the hard way, though, that it's not worth being in a relationship with someone who can't break your heart. now i'm busy looking for a guy who can break my heart, but won't.

luckily, after a few years of dating in nyc, my heart has gotten a few callouses. that's a good thing. my hands, however, are still silky smooth. palmolive. seriously, why am i saying all this? it's crazy, right? i should know better, yes? because it should scare you away, no? this conversation is probably the gay equivalent of a 39 year old woman discussing babies on a first date! oh whatever. i'm not scared to put it out there. i want to fall. and i want to fall hard. and it would be nice if someone like kimberly locke would catch me. the problem is that i haven't fallen. after my breakup, i thought i'd fall into another relationship in two seconds. well it's been four years, and, although i've dated a few good guys, good just doesn't cut it. i had good. really good. this time i'm looking for great. so mostly i haven't fallen. tripped a few times, but i've always caught myself. my big worry now is, have i gotten too old and jaded to fall? or will i just abandon ship before i get a chance to fall because something silly spooked me? or maybe i'm just too picky because, unlike that 39 year old woman who is just looking for a sperm donor, perhaps i really know what i want and am willing to wait?

all i really know is that i want to meet you before i write another ridiculous email like this.

And then the WeeHo quickly responds:

I'm a fan of Autumn. You know we don't get that here. I miss it. I always come back east for a dose of autumn and a white christmas.

Speaking of which, yes, this is weird. I get that. I've given up on many of my rules, however. Well, except that I still keep the seat down on the toilet (I don't want my Chi to go down the tubes), I don't leave dishes in the sink (God forbid I don't make it back home, that something should happen and my mother comes to gather my belongings and she finds dirty dishes in sink. She put on my headstone, "Here rests my son, the slob"), and of course, no white after labor day (Patty Hearst was so wrong. She deserved what she got).

Anyway, where was I...oh, yeah...falling is good. And you're not crazy (although you would be if you added Sleepless to your Netflix list, I'm just saying). I remember what it feels like to fall. I'm convinced that it is more my willingness to fall at times the people I meet. I could have "tripped" a few times, but I figured I'd hold out for the free fall. I worry that I may have squandered a few good trips, though. I wonder if a trip could have lead to a fall. Then I think, "Nope. Just wait for the fall."

Is it crazy to put the effort into a series of emails someone all the way across the country who just happens to photograph well ;) Everything starts somewhere. Obviously, the places I've started before have yielded nothing. And yes, I want to meet you too. Although that is completely out of the question at the moment. I have huge zit on my forehead and that would make a terrible first impression.

Also, I want to be much more prolific than I am being right now, but I have to get to my Cirque workout class (excited) and did want to get back to you first (I hate feeling rushed)

So, to quickly recap:

- You enjoy guilty pop too
- Summer still has a week left, although no more white this season
- You're not crazy, nor am I, at least not for this.
- Meeting is not an option at the moment.
- You have a phone phobia
- I have a loaner car

And when you finish reading his email you actually find yourself saying aloud (even though you're completely alone), "This is the man that I’m…” and then just like that, you stop. You don't allow yourself to finish the sentence.

For some unknown reason, you keep putting yourself out there for this stranger across the country. And you keep waiting for the moment where he disappears because you've said too much. But for some other unknown reason, the WeeHo keeps coming back for more of your sappy shenanigans. You feel absolutely fantastic when you return to "Becoming Jane." And as the movie continues, you feel like you, too, are somehow Becoming Jane. Somehow living your life as a freelance writer (emphasis on the free) seems preferable to living your life with a man that doesn't make you Fall. But does this make you Proud? Or merely Prejudiced about falling for the right Mr. Darcy? Anyway...