You're Not the Type of Fag Who Gets Easily Dickmatized...

...in fact, you can't even tell the difference between the Darren Stevenses played by Dick York and Dick Sargent on Bewitched. You've seen one dick, you've seen them all. And you, my man-slut friend, have seen a lot of dick.

Since Blonde Beard is obviously actively pursuing other online dates on Match.com, you decide that you need to keep dating, too. Even though your heart's not really into it, which is mostly because your heart is really into Blonde Beard. This becomes crystal clear (bad drug pun intended) when you find yourself rescheduling a date with the London Lush because you decided that you'd rather have gay cocktails with your GFF (Gay Fags Forever) than have gay cock with the London Lush. So you reschedule London Lush for Sunday evening, partly because you wanted to be able to easily compare and contrast the two boys after your Saturday date with Blonde Beard, but mostly because on Sunday you are Loser-Party-of-One with no plans on your gay agenda for that evening. Quelle horreur!

So you meet Blonde Beard for your Saturday night date at Quartino Bottega Organica on Bleecker near Elizabeth. It's his suggestion and it's the perfect date place. Blonde Beard is wearing the cutest horizontal striped V-neck sweater over a V-neck t-shirt which taunts you with a little tuft of his chest hair all during the delicious dinner which he pays for. Afterward, you race over to catch the 8pm showing of Persepolis at the Angelica, but you cringe when you hear your name called from behind you on the busy Houston Street sidewalk. You turn around slowly, while haunting faces from your dating past flash before you: The Cuddler, The Man Loving Fox Personality, The London Lush, Baby Daddy, Mister Softee, Same Name Boy, Algorithm Boy, The Boyfriendster, Hairy Potter, The Cellist, The Writer, White Pants, are just a few of the names that come to mind... But when you look around you see a face that is vaguely recognizable in a reassuring way because you know you've never slept with this one. Regardless, your heart begins to palpitate because you find yourself in one of your least favorite positions where you are obliged to make introductions. Even though it's freezing, you begin to sweat as you try to remember the guy's name who you now recognize as The Cryer from your brief and relatively painful stint at Gay Group Therapy. Somehow you actually pull his name out of your ass even though you haven't seen The Cryer in over two years, but you obviously use up all of your brain power because after introducing The Cryer, you completely stumble on Blonde Beard's name, and the awkward moment drags on until Blonde Beard ends up introducing himself.

In the ticket line you explain to Blonde Beard that you are absolutely awful with names and when you find yourself in one of those paralyzing situations it isn't too unusual for you to forget your own damn name. And that's when you see the silver lining from the embarrassing situation. You begin to tell Blonde Beard all about Gay Group Therapy and how most of the boys were in some Twelve-Step program for some highly addictive drug that began with the letter C: Coke, Crystal or Crack. You tell him how you felt a bit out of place since you were just a lowly alcoholic who didn't even like Coors, Cognac or Captain Morgan ("Alex, I'll take Booze that begins with C for $200, please.") You go on and on about the drugs and the intensity of the whole Gay Group situation, and after your Pollyanna-ish Just Say No monologue, you look up to Blonde Beard with baited breath, wondering what he's going to say about your fascinating story. But he just looks around and says, "Wow. It's insanely crowded in this theater

Wow? It's insanely crowded in this theater? That's it? His non-response almost makes you want to scream "Fire!" in the insanely crowded theater, but instead you end up racking your brain for explanations as to why he changed the subject. Did the drug talk make him uncomfortable because he is a Crackhead? Or perhaps he wondered why you were in a Gay Group full of Crackheads? Maybe Blonde Beard is now wondering if perhaps you are the Crackhead? Or maybe he wasn't even paying attention to you because what you were saying wasn't really all that interesting or relevant to his life? Anyway.

The movie turns out to be really entertaining (except for that twist ending where the chick has a dick--just kidding), and afterward you decide to grab Frozen Margaritas, no salt, at Cowgirl Hall of Fame. After you finish your first one you begin to ask about the last guy Blonde Beard dated who just vanished into thin air. With some prying, you realize that the disappearing act happened much more recently than you had assumed: November. You also uncover the fact that they both used the "L" word. In regards to each other. In the presence of each other. You are so shocked by this little tidbit that for a moment you actually wonder if perhaps he's discussing that Dyke series on Showtime? But seriously, why does somebody disappear after using the "L" word? Apparently the boy disappeared for a week, only to return with the tabloid newsflash that he went on a sex binge. You, of course, read between the binge lines and assume that there must have been a drug binge fueling the sex binge. Regardless, it's an awful story and you feel really bad for Blonde Beard, who explains to you that the whole experience has left him extremely guarded. This is when you realize that both of you have been busy constructing concrete walls in order to not get hurt by the other. Blonde Beard is scared of getting his heart broken again, and you are scared of getting yours (for lack of a better word) Cracked.

You want to stroke his hairy face and promise him that you'd never ever intentionally hurt him. Or anyone for that matter (well, perhaps maybe a select few like your 11th grade English Cunt, oops, you actually meant to spell Teacher, however that bitch never taught you anything, not even how to spell Teacher.) After a nice brain freeze helps you forget your moral dilemma, you wind up going back to Blonde Beard's place and have an amazing time as you take your relationship to the next level of physical intimacy: you actually spend the night. And yes, you Nosey-Pokers, you finally bring your sexual relationship to that next level, too. And both levels are a-fucking-mazing (with an extra emphasis on the fucking.) But just as you're about to fall fast asleep in his strong arms, you find yourself jarred awake as you begin to realize that you are stuck between a rock and Blonde Beard's hard place. You are completely and utterly dickmatized by a boy who might be traumatized by the things you are writing about on your narcissistic blog. Your online diary-hea actually could be intentionally hurting him. Some of the things you've written might actually really hurt him. You kind of worried that this might happen, but you never expected it to happen so soon. Anyway...