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

...but the Boy Luck Club seems to feel differently after you relay the Blonde Beard "Best" email story to them over an impromptu sushi lunch at Kodama (45th Street near Eighth). You are in absolute shock as Rice Queen informs you that he gets desperate emails like the one you sent to Blonde Beard all the time. "But," you attempt to defend yourself, "I was just trying to be nice! I didn't want him to think that I was the one who gave him Herpes!" But Rice Queen isn't having it, "It doesn't matter," he says. "About six weeks after I check out of a relationship, I will inevitably get an email like yours and it's obvious the boy is wondering what happened and, I'm sorry, but it just comes off as totally desperate."

Desperate? As in des�per�ate (dspr-t) ADJECTIVE: 1. Having lost all hope; despairing? Could that possibly be how Blonde Beard perceived you? Perhaps that's why Blonde Beard wrote you back and used "Best" as his final closing word to you? Perhaps he thought you were just being desperate and didn't want to lead you on with an overly affecionate "Sincerely" or get really racy with an "XOXO"? Typically you would just look at this ridiculous Best situation and tell yourself that obviously Blonde Beard is scared to show any kind of true emotion. That Blonde Beard has obviously become so jaded and fucked up from years of gay dating in New York that he has decided that the Best way protect himself is by emotionally dibesting from a relationship instead of actually having a conversation that could actually expose a true feeling. And here you are actually expecting the Boy Luck Club to back you up on this issue while comforting you with enlightened mantras they learned on Oprah or Dr. Phil. That's when Half-Share chimes in with his two cents, and since he was the only White Boy ever to date Rice Queen, you are desperately sure that Half Share will come to your rescue. But he actually agrees with Rice Queen about your email coming off as some desperate need to find closure. You look to your anorexic friend, Fat Albert, but he is too busy shuffling his food around his plate to make it appear as if it were actually eaten, and obviously he doesn't notice your visual plea for emotional support when he, too, sides with Rice Queen and Half Share on this particular Gay Dating Conundrum. Fat Albert even goes as far as telling you that you obviously scared Blonde Beard away by prematurely expressing your love for him. You are in shock! "Even after dating someone for three months?" you ponder aloud as your friends all nod their heads in agreement that three months is much, much too soon to express love. They explain that exposing your love for a boy is the kiss of death. Someone even goes as far to describe the whole experience as, "A real dick deflator."

You leave lunch with all these new ideas floating around your head, haunting you. You actually give the situation some real thought since these are your good friends and you know in your heart that, unlike the emotionally unavailable Blonde Beard, these boys actually have your Best interest at heart and definitely have no agenda (besides, of course, finding you a boyfriend so you'll stop yapping about your endless gay dating dilemmas.) But it's all good. You live and you learn, and perhaps next time you will play your cards a little closer to your chest instead of letting all these silly gay boys play Slap Jack every time you reveal your (Jack of) Hearts. And these are the thoughts swirling around your head as you tear through various outfits in your closet in order to cuten yourself up for your date with the Swedish Engineer that you've been chatting with on Connexion.

That's when you remember a comment that Swedie Pi made about how he had a thing for men in suits. About how he liked to think of them as special gifts that he got to unwrap. And with that, your wardrobe woes are solved as you pull out a blazer to wear over a form fitting Lacoste shirt, which, although not a suit, is about as dressed up as you've ever gotten for one of these silly internet Meet n' Greets. You worry that his time you may have let your expectations get the best of you. Usually you like to meet these boys right away without putting a lot of time and energy into excessive emails and playful phone calls, however, Swedie Pi has been busy working in Sweden and so you've gotten yourself worked up to the point where you are definitely one Desperate Fag.

You're really looking forward to meeting your Swedie Pi, and the date seems promising and unique since he's invited you to an Gallery Opening in Little Italy for a Multimedia Artist named Bill Shannon. You really have no idea what to expect, but when you arrive at the Douz and Mille gallery you are rather surprised to find a Buxom Blonde with a clipboard, looming from the preferable side of her velvet rope, and you and your Brunette Blazer gulp as she searches her list for your name and then promptly removes the velvet barrier and grants you access to an elevator which whisks you quickly up to the fifth floor. When the door opens again, you are instantly blinded by a giant, blinking Motel-like sign, which upon closer inspection actual reads "MURDER," which is exactly what you plan to do to your heart if it finds itself desperately creeping down onto your sleeve during this date which you've been looking forward to for weeks. You promise yourself that you will play it cool tonight. You will not come off as desperate. You will not Deflate Dicks. You, my friend, are not desperate! And, luckily for you, your forearms are sleeved with a form fitting cotton American Eagle blazer that is way too tight for anything to slip out beyond your emotionally stable, yet somewhat limp wrist.

You make your way through the maze-like gallery, passing several video installations that make absolutely no sense to you, as you scan the various rooms for your Swedie Pi. Your eye quickly spots an open vodka bar, and although everything else in your focus begins to fade as your liver begins to salivate in a classic Pavlovian response. However, somehow during the ten steps that separate you from your sober sal(i)vation, somehow you take your eyes off of your 80 proof prize as 100% of your attention segues away from the dark blue lettering on the Svedka bottle and settles quickly upon the dark blue eyes of the Swede who is smiling at you. "Hello!" he says in an accent that is sexier in person than it was over the expensive international phone call, and your heart actually skips a beat as it begins its descent down your tight sleeve. Swedie Pi introduces you to the Gallery Owner and several other VIP's that irritate you mostly because you have to feign interest in them when you really want to be concentrating solely on your Swedie Pi. The whole experience is surreal because a documentary film crew quickly surrounds you as if you are Michael Moore's next docuventary victim. You stare directly into the camera as the Cameraman attempts to document your first few words with your Swedie Pi, however, everybody is surprised when your first words turn out to be the Cameraman's full name. The cameraman's full face emerges from his viewfinder as he says, "Oh my God," and gives you a warm, welcoming straight man hug which is more like a quick pat on the shoulder while his crotch seems to retreat so far across town that it may have actually have to pay a toll when it eventually decides to make its way back across the Hudson River.

You haven't seen the Cameraman since you shot the series finale of the sitcom you both used to work on and you are in shock. Partly because it's been years since you've seen him, but mostly because this handsome boy that you used to lust over has actually gotten a bit Straight Fat during these past few years of Reruns. You instantly ask your TV friend, Rerun, "What's Happening?" and Rerun explains that he has been shooting a documentary on Bill Shannon ever since the sitcom ended. You are happy to have a little bit of Artist Street Cred as you introduce your Swedie Pi to Rerun. But Rerun is busy working so he runs off to film something that is, surprisingly, somehow more interesting than your date with Swedie Pi (which is, surprisingly, even better than you expected.) You order a drink as you peruse the exhibit and attempt to fathom how on earth a video installation artist who films himself bopping around the city on makeshift crutches can actually make money? Or warrant a documentary film crew? You and your Swedie Pi discuss these and other issues as your first date goes along swimmingly until you make your way back to the bar. You, of course, order another Svedka, but are surprised when your Swede orders a Sveven-Up... "You're not drinking?" you ask, confused as to why anyone would order a Soft Drink at an Hard Bar? Swedie Pi explains that he is very Jet Lagged and that alcohol would just put him to sleep. You feel a little funny about drinking alone, and you worry that the liquor might act as your Emotional Truth Serum but you quickly get over it as the bartender hands you your free Svedka & Soda.

Afterwards you are both hungry, and although you live steadfast by the rule of No Food on a Meet n' Greet, you have already broken all your other Gay Dating Rules with Swedie Pi, so you are certainly not about to let this Jet Lagged Fag go to bed anytime soon. You wind up sitting at the counter at Café Gitane because the place is packed and the woman behind the counter takes a shine to you as she tries to plop a big basket of bread in front of you and you say, "We're Gay so we don't eat bread." In fact she likes you so much that she makes you forgo a table when it becomes available just so she can chat with you boys. The conversation just flows. The two of you have so much fun talking that the Waitress refuses to believe that you are actually on a first date. And to her credit, it doesn't feel at all like a first date. In fact, although you are sitting together for the very first time, somehow it feels like you two are an old established couple, bickering about directions as you drive through Stockholm in the Volvo that your Swedie Pi bought for you after you sold your first book.

Your desperate fantasy continues as Swedie Pi tells you all about a Bed and Breakfast in Madrid that he bought for his Mother to run. Then he goes on to explain how it's his dream to open a small hotel in New York one day. You instantly imagine yourself sitting beneath a rainbow flag at the Front Desk of the Hellsea-Clinton B&B in a beautiful Brownstone that the two of you renovated shortly after trading in the Volvo for a pair of matching Metrocards and abandoning The Netherlands for New Amsterdam. But as the clock strikes midnight, your Metrocards expire as your Cinderfella Fantasy quickly turns back into a delicious Pumpkin flavored dessert that is quickly turning you into a Gay Plumpkin.

So you split the check and walk your Swedie Pi up to Houston Street where you hail him a taxi because he is much too tired (and rich) to bother with the subway. You hold the cab's door open for him as you attempt to break your very last dating rule and lean in to give your Swedie Pi a goodnight kiss. You are practically patting yourself on the back at this point for somehow keeping all your desperate B&B redecorating fantasies all to yourself instead of pulling out an Ikea Catalog and exposing all your fabric swatches and color schemes to your Swedie Pi. However, even though your mouth somehow seems to cooperate this evening and doesn't reveal your innermost Dick Deflating Interior Decorative feelings to your Swedie Pi, you find yourself quite surprised when your welcoming lips receive nothing but a little peck. After such a great date the bizarre goodbye actually feels more like the Kiss of Death as Swedie Pi hops in the cab and leaves you and your Deflating Dick standing alone like Hand Solo on the sidewalk. You're actually so surprised by the quick turn of events that, instead of walking home, you find yourself hurrying back to Café Gitane because, although you have no intentions to bear your gay soul to your Swedie Pi, you decide that it is somehow okay to run your desperate gay ass back to ask the cute Waitress what she thought about your date. She's actually just as shocked as you are when she sees you return, alone. However the only thing she really tells you is that, surprise-surprise, she thought that Swedie Pi seemed a bit more reserved than you, but she does remind you that he was suffering from Jet Lag. As you walk home you begin to go over the entire five hour first date, replaying the whole thing in your head while desperately worrying whether or not the new and improved, non-desperate you may have been so desperate to not come off as desperate that you may have actually come off as aloof and uninterested? Anyway...