You're Not One of Those Fags Who Walks Into Things Blindly...

...but you are definitely blindsided as you're walking down 14th Street with Blonde Beard and notice a Blind Man with a terrifying Old Testament Ash Wednesday cross scrawled across his forehead. The visually impaired Religious Zealot's cane is whipping its way toward your knees until your valiant Blonde Beard yanks you of harm's way. The two of you share an uncomfortable giggle, but your giggles quickly turn into hysterics when you actually see another cane carrying Blind Man (this heathen, thankfully, has an ashless forehead) and he's headed directly into the Religious Zealot's path. You both stop in your tracks to witness the impromptu Seinfeld Street Theater moment unfold as the two canes begin to whack each other with absolute confusion. The two Blind Men tap-tap-tap their canes at each other as Blonde Beard asks, "What do you think the odds of that happening are?"

While you were in Florida you and Blonde Beard had a virtual Text-a-palooza which was super flirty and fun, however, at one point it did get a bit weird. During one of your midnight Text-fests, you were actually multi-tasking while chatting online with your Ex-Cousin-In-Law. She, of course, was asking you all about Blonde Beard. You quickly realized that you could easily send her his Match.com profile link so that she could drool over his photos. Not to mention the fact that it would be nice to see his smiling mug while you were so far away from anything remotely gay. Only when you sign onto Match you see that Blonde Beard's profile announces proudly, "Online Now! IM me!" So you do. You decide to keep it short and simple and write, "Ho," which probably comes off a bit rude, but you're less than thrilled to learn that Blonde Beard is scouring the Internet for dates instead of pining away for your gay ass to return with it's new-and-improved tan lines. It's an odd situation, because it's not like you are officially seeing each other. You're still dating other people, so of course he's allowed to also. You just don't want to know about it. Yet now you do. Ugh.

Regardless, you were very excited to come back and see Blonde Beard, but since you are both busy gay boys (you with your endless social life, and Blonde Beard with his pesky job and irritatingly selfish night-school classes), and the only overlap in your schedules was on Wednesday. Unfortunately you have had long standing plans with the Boy Luck Club, but you just have to see Blonde Beard so you both decide to meet for a quickie before meeting your gay posse at Food Bar.

After the Blind Kneading the Blind incident, the two of you horny boys rush back to Blonde Beard's place and waste no time getting busy. Luckily his Jealous Roommate is nowhere to be found, so there are no restrictions regarding noise level. You, of course, sniff him from head-to-toe to see if there's any kind of Mothball odor, and there's not. Well, not really. There is kind of this odd musty smell which seems to emanate strictly from his beard and you begin to wonder if perhaps that was what you were assumed was the Mothball odor? You wonder what products he uses to wash that hairy thing because it kind of smells like Old Man. And Old Man Smell can easily be confused with Mothball Smell because oftentimes the two scents are unfortunately combined. But you don't waste much time wondering about this because you are quickly distracted by other hairy parts of Blonde Beard's beautiful body.

After an intensely satisfying sexual experience, you definitely notice a bizarre distance again. While you'd rather cuddle and discuss the various towns where you two should buy your imaginary beach house, you are definitely aware that Blonde Beard seems preoccupied with counting the moments until your imminent departure. It's weird because he is so emotionally available to you until he gets off, and then he's Mr. Wham-Bam-Thank-You-Sam. Is it because he needs his crack fix? Anyway. Since you are a sweaty smelly mess you ask if it'd be okay to jump in the shower, and that's where your ulterior motive exposes itself as you begin to sniff through all of Blonde Beard's fancy grooming products for something that smells like Mothballs or Old Man. But nothing does. Afterward, you share an awkward, slightly distant goodbye yet definitely make plans to see each other on Saturday night (which is always a good sign since he could've easily offered you a much lamer night of the week), then you rush over to Food Bar to meet the B.L.C.

Upon your arrival you are shocked when everybody seems to instantly know that you have been freshly laid. "How on earth?" you ask as you inspect your sweater for a Monica Lewinsky-esque cum stain. "Oh please," they say. "Your hair is still wet." You, of course, protest, "I could've been coming from the gym!" but your Cheshire Cat grin does nothing to back up your lies. The B.L.C. quickly begins their By-The-Book Interrogation and you start giving all the glowing details about Blonde Beard. You tell them how you met on Match.com yadda-yadda-yadda, yet you decide to leave out the details about the fact that he may or may not be a Crackhead. Somehow you worry that this information might come back to haunt you if this relationship actually goes somewhere. Your friend Half-Share (whose actually upgraded to a Full Share next summer, yet in a less glamorous house in The Pines) begins to ask you about Blonde Beard since he's also doing the Match.com thing and is just as irritated and jaded about it as you are. Only when you tell him Blonde Beard's screenname, Half-Share's face instantly drops in shock. This, of course, convinces you that Blonde Beard is indeed a Crackhead, until Full-Share informs you that he was just chatting with your man on Match.com. And get this, it was recently. You are completely blindsided as the B.L.C. gives a collective giggle to your latest dating foible. That's when you find yourself wondering, "What do you think the odds of that happening are?" Anyway.