You're not the type of fag who Sneak Dates...

...but sometimes, even with the best of intentions, you find yourself in a state of dating-overlap. It's not like you intend to juggle boys, it's just that sometimes your relationships tend to be in different stages of their dating-lifespans. Anyway.

Last week when you and the Boy Luck Club crashed a Random Christmas Party your only ulterior motive was a night full of free booze. The host's apartment was decorated super cute (as were his guests) and although the decor didn't involve any mistletoe, kisses were definitely invoked due to a plethora of Absolut-a-toe. Things with The Cuddler seemed to be wrapping up so you didn't even think twice when the Cello-Playing Corporate Lawyer started chatting you up. He was cute, funny and so tall that he made you feel like your own little mini-you. It was nice to feel so petite, especially since you've been feeling like a holiday-heffer. So you went home with him. Is that so terrible? One simple ho-ho-hookup does not a Holiday-Ho make. Especially when the Ho in question has Whiskey Dick.

It was nice. You and The Cellist exchanged numbers and he actually calls. So you set up a dinner date and meet at Bombay Talkie. Luckily, you two have enough talkie of your own to get through the dinner, this time without the Absolut-a-toe. When you finish you decide to head back to his place. The Cellist is about to hail a cab, but it's such a nice night that you suggest walking up Ninth Avenue. The streets are bustling and you're yapping about something or other when you look up and notice a large Hellsea Boy Posse smack in front of you. One of the boys catches your eye, possibly because he's cute, or more probably because he's staring at you. Your eyes lock for a moment and that's when you realize that you've met this Hellsea Boy before. You're trying to place him when he totally gives you the Evil Eye. The Cellist is still blah-blah-blahing about something to which you are no longer paying attention because now you are racing through the Ghosts of Boyfriends Past in a vain attempt to recocknize Evil Eye Boy.

And that's when it bitch-slaps you like an angry Drag Queen. You never slept with Evil Eye Boy. However, you do know him because The Cuddler introduced you on Saturday night at the xxx-mas Party. Although you have a nasty habit of forgetting everybody, you were uncharacteristically sober that evening and you remember this boy in particular. You remember him because he was so officious about how great it was to finally meet you; how he had heard so so so much about you. Yadda-yadda-yadda.

Evil Eye Boy passes and neither of you say hello because you both know that you're so busted. But then your mind starts playing party-tricks and you begin to wonder if The Cuddler might have been part of the Hellsea Boy Posse? Did he catch you on your Sneak Date, too? Should you turn around? You decide it's better not to look back because that somehow seems more incriminating. Ugh. So you just keep walking up Ninth Avenue and curse yourself for not taking a fucking cab.

Later on, afterwards, when you're trying to fall asleep next to The Cellist who's lying so far away from you that you feel like two straight guys separated by an empty homoseat in a movie theater, later on, you can't stop thinking about The Cuddler. More specifically, you find yourself wishing you were sleeping in his bed instead. Anyway.