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

...who thinks his pants are too fancy for Cherry Grove. However, you are definitely one of those lazy fags who rarely schleps his way through the Meat Rack in fear of losing his cheap pants on the way there. Actually you're kind of terrified of the Meat Rack, mostly because you know that if you found yourself in some dark, unsavory, sticky situation, you'd just wind up giggling like some nervous nelly and run out with your tail between your legs. You also prefer to actually see the people that you have sex with. Perhaps you're just a bit old fashioned in that way. But it's lunchtime and Rice Queen feels like a walk, so you, Rice Queen #3 and The San Francisco Treat decide to grab a bite in Cherry Grove. Luckily everybody's pants (all of which are much fancier than yours) stay completely buttoned as you pass through the mysterious Meat Rack.

When you woke up this morning at the ungodly hour of noon you instantly began to piece together the events of the previous evening before pulling your tired old ass out of bed . Although your memory is just as hazy and humid as today's weather, you unfortunately remember drunkenly agreeing to go to Aussie Bum's 29th birthday party at 2pm. Only you don't want to go. Although he was kind of cute, he really wasn't you're type. He was more than a bit too intense, more than a bit too young, and way more than a bit of an awful kisser. Even though you really don't want to send the wrong signals by going to Aussie Bum's party, you also hate going back on your word.

You poll your friends over lunch about how you should handle this Aussie Bum situation, and the general consensus is, "If you don't want to go to his party, then just blow it off." Although you know that this tact will send a very clear signal to Aussie Bum, you still feel lame about it. But that's when you receive a text from Aussie Bum that says, "Let me know if you are swinging by, if not, no stress. Cheers." The worst part comes when you notice that the timestamp reads 2:05pm. With all your lollygagging about whether or not you should go to his damn party, you are now officially five minutes late, not to mention more than a half-hour away. But during your past thirtysomething years in the YOUniverse, the one thing you've actually learned is to trust your actions more than your feelings. When it comes to your emotions, you're just a big ol' gurrrl who doesn't want to hurt Aussie Bum's feelings. But if you look closely at your actions, you obviously have no desire to go to his party. Hell, you've been hemming and hawwing all day, you've lost track of time, and now you are about as far away as you could physically be from Aussie Bum. As C + C Music Factory would say, "Things That Make You Go Hmmmmmmm." Obviously you just ain't that into Aussie Bum. So you text him back and say, "Hey. Im in cherry grove for lunch and not feeling so hot. If im feeling better maybe I'll see you @ tea. Happy Birthday!" To which Aussie Bum replies, "Yes, I imagine a lot of people on the. island feel not so hot today.Thanks for letting me know, enjoy the Grove..."

After a delicious lunch you all decide to take a peek in town before you head back, and of course you end up running into Baby Daddy who is, ironically, wearing nothing but an Aussie Bum bathing suit. Albeit last years '07 model, Baby Daddy is filling it out very nicely. His friends are also scantily clad and seem to be irritated as you stop them to say a simple hi and give Baby Daddy a kiss hello. You chit chat for approximately 2.2 sentences before Baby Daddy's friends say, "We have to go now," and drag him away rather rudely. Although it's weird, it's totally fine. The last time you saw him he was busy describing the romantic date he was going to take you on, and now he's too busy to say hello? It's not like he's wearing a Tuxedo and late for a wedding. He's in a skimpy Speedo! Even if he's late for the beach, it's totally overcast! Baby Daddy is an enigma wrapped in a riddle shoved into a fortune cookie sealed in cellophane that you have no desire to unwrap, let alone eat. Next!

The day progresses like any other on Fire Guyland. Beach Cocktails, Pool Cocktails, Low Tea Cocktails, High Tea Cocktails, Dinner with an overpriced bottle of cheap wine, a bit of after-dinner dancing on the dining room table in your underwear, and then, of course, it's off to Slip N' Hurl. Luckily at High Tea you ended up swiping an entire sleeve of Fire Island Pines cups from the bar when the bartender was busy ignoring you. With these special cups, not only do you have a wonderful To-Go cup for cocktailing along the boardwalk without being hassled by the police, but with these particular magical cups you can actually walk right into the overpriced bars because they assume you ordered the drinks from them! Not that you condone stealing, but come on! Would you convict a starving child who stole an apple from a bodega? Of course not. And this is the same exact principle.

As usual, upon arriving at Slip N' Hurl, it's everyman for himself and the Kinsey 8 quickly divides to conquer. You, of course, get sidetracked on the dance floor, but before you can even complete an entire Fruit Loop, your inner Elaine finds yourself flailing, or rather dancing, smack in front of Aussie Bum. You quickly ask, "How was your birthday party this afternoon?" and when he replies, "It didn't happen," you are equally confused and yet completely relieved. You can't imagine showing up to a party for someone you just weren't that into, where you were not only the sole guest, but his only present to boot! But Aussie Bum doesn't seem to care that his only guest was a no-show. Your attempt at a simple, trite conversation quickly segues into how Aussie Bum seems to think you are just the greatest thing since the invention of the Gay Bar. And come on, nobody's that great. Especially you. This boy barely knows you. You chatted yesterday. For a bit. Your signals of disinterest were pretty clear (except for the kissing part, of course). Hell, he doesn't have any clue about who you really are! The fact that he is so interested when he knows nothing about you is kind of a turn off. Perhaps he likes you because he thinks you're playing "Hard to Get," when in reality you are really playing "Impossible to Get"? Actually you're not playing at all. But then again, on the other hand, his enthusiasm for you makes you wonder if you might be turning into one of those boys who is only interested in boys who have no interest in you? Ugh.

Regardless, the conversation begins a downward spiral. Aussie Bum's intensity, coupled with his bad breath begin to singe your eyebrows. Even though you are practically mute, he begins bombard you with requests for dates when he returns from an upcoming business trip. But when you politely decline he becomes relentless. He begins explaining how you two got off to a rough start and that he wants to make it up to you. Suddenly you are aware that this boy, for some unknown reason, has completely romanticized you into someone who doesn't exist. Which is more than a bit disconcerting. Although you do believe in love at first sight (okay, lust), you also believe that it has to be a two-way street! And right now Aussie Bum is on a lovely, yet very private cul de sac. So before the conversation gets even more awkward, you decide to be as clear as possible in response to what seems to be escalating into an unsolicited marriage proposal. You say, "I don't think it's a good idea if we go out."

Your honesty, of course, backfires. Whoever said, "Honesty is the best policy," was definitely not gay. Anyway. Aussie Bum is now both slightly mad and probably more-than-slightly embarrassed. But he definitely heard you, so you decide to shut your big trap in order to let your words sink in. Aussie Bum actually begins to argue with you about why you should go out with him and you begin to get freaked out. Being a lawyer, Aussie Bum seems to think he can somehow sway your drunken jury. But his closing argument actually concludes with, "If you want me to go away and never come back, then just say so." How on earth did it suddenly get to this point? You just met this guy last night! Such drama! Unfortunately you realize that you have no other choice but to answer his question, so you say, "I think you should go." Aussie Bum stares at you for an endless, yet incredulous moment, and then he turns and disappears into the crowd at Slip N' Hurl. A sudden wave of relief takes over as you walk outside to find Rice Queen and fill him in on your latest drama.


But two seconds into your recap with Rice Queen you are tapped on the shoulder by none other than Aussie Bum! You are dumbfounded when this relative stranger asks you why you don't like him. Although you would usually say something like, "Does it matter why I don't like you?" but something about this boy is off. Very off. For some unknown reason he is a bit obsessed by yours truly, and images of boiled bunny rabbits begin to dance through your head. So you say as politely as possible, "You are really freaking me out!" Eventually Aussie Bum leaves, and this time you watch to make sure he leaves. At this point you are done. You want to leave immediately, but you ask Rice Queen to walk you home because you're actually freaked out that Aussie Bum might follow you and jump out of the bushes on your way home. On the walk back to Beach Hill Walk you receive a text from Aussie Bum: "Hey – I’m sorry. I’m terrible in siuch situations, but an eternal optimist. I may hit you up in a few weeks, hope I’m not so scary. I’m intense but do think you’re worth a touch of my dignity." Anyway...

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

...but when you get to the Fresh Market in Fire Guyland with the dire need to caffeinate, you are annoyed to have nothing to choose from but Coke products. You stare at the refrigerated bottles for so long that someone actually asks you if you're okay. No, of course you're not okay! There is no Diet Pepsi on this whole damned island which is your new home for an entire week! You usually vote yourself off of Temptation Island after a measly three-day weekend, but since you and your Lovely Lady Mumps are between apartments (a.k.a. homeless) you are stuck on the Isle of Guy for a full week. Thank the gay gods for your share house. And thank the gland gods that your Lovely Lady Mumps seem to be getting a little bit better. Anyway.

You finally decide on Coke Zero, which turns out to be infinitely better than Diet Coke and as you are paying you start scanning the extensive crowd on the dock which has gathered to watch the Invasion. Every year since the Dawn of Gay Man, the Cherry Grove Drag Queens descend upon The Pines in droves and paint the town red with way too much lipstick and blush. There's some sort of beachy, Stonewall-ish historical significance, but you've long since forgotten. Hell you've forgotten last night already. Until, of course you are reminded of last night when you see him standing amongst the crowd wearing nothing but a skimpy little Speedo. True to his word, the day-tripping Baby Daddy has come back for another gay day. Actually, today is the gayest day. Anywhere. Baby Daddy doesn't notice you through the store's window, and you briefly consider knocking on the glass to say hi, but your run-in with him last night was so odd that you decide to just let it go. If he's really as interested as he said he was, then he's got your number. And if you're really as uninterested as you think you are, then you've got voicemail.

It's hot and muggy and there's absolutely no breeze so you wind up watching only a smidgen of the festivities before you, Half-Share and Fat Albert decide to rehydrate with something more refreshing than some second-rate, poor excuse for a Diet Pepsi. You all head into the Pavilion and your boys need to hit the bathroom before the bar, but you wait outside since your Coke Zero hasn't made it's way south to your bladder yet. You futz with your phone until Half-Share comes out and informs you that you must take a peek at the show going on inside the Men's Room. You, of course, don't need to be coaxed more than once so you pop your head in and indeed there are two boys pressed up against the urinal, making out as if it's not actually one o'clock in the afternoon with plenty of other much cleaner places to get it on. That's about when their zippers get yanked down and the circle jerk, party of two, begins.

Later on, you end up losing your friends so you decide to wait for them at the bottom of the steps which lead up to Slip N' Hurl, which ends up being a great spot because it's the final destination for all of the fabulous D.Q.'s so they all end up sashaying past you along the runway as if you're Michael Kors (but luckily not as Gay Fat). Unfortunately all the Straight Looky-Loos who came out for the day have found the same primo real estate as you have, and they're all a bit drunk and obnoxious. It kind of feels like you're at some bizarre gay Hooters, until one Bad Breeder grabs a hold of Marilyn's famous white dress in an unwelcome attempt to blow it up as if she were standing on some explosive sewer grate. Needless to say, Marilyn is pissed and instantly turns into the Seven Year Bitch and goes postal on the The Misfits, because it's more than obvious that Something's Got To Give.

As usual, cocktails flow all afternoon until it's time for The Dance on the Bay which is a fundraiser for the Gay & Lesbian & Bisexual & Transgendered & Eunuch & Asexual Community Center. You watch the sun begin to set as the cocktails really flow (mostly because they're free) and that's when your inner-Elaine starts to, um, dance on the bay, until eventually, yadda, yadda, yadda, the next thing you know it's 1am and you're surprised to find yourself back at Slip N' Hurl. You cross your fingers hoping that one of your missing Yaddas included dinner as you stumble into the busy boy bar.

Almost instantly you meet an Aussie Bum who just turned 29 today, and, get this, feels old. You roll your eyes and inform him that, "Well, here's the good news. You're still too young for this ride," as you gesture toward yourself. It's actually a bit hazy (surprise, surprise), but somehow the conversation quickly turns and suddenly you feel like you're on a date with a 38 year old woman who's eggs are reaching the end of their shelf life. Just like Baby Daddy from last night, Aussie Bum starts talking about the future. Or more specifically, your future together! Like when he gets back from his business trip, blah-blah-blah. Or when you meet his family in Australia, blah-blah-blah. The whole conversation becomes even more surreal when he actually says aloud, "Since today's my birthday I deserve to have you go home with me." Did you skim over the part of the script where you agreed to jump out of a cake? Well, actually, you are about to jump. Right down the stairs. So you tell Aussie Bum, politely, that since you are turning into a pumpkin that it's time for you to go home. Unfortunately, that's when Aussie Bum insists on walking you back. You're too exhausted to decline so you just give in reluctantly.

When you finally get back to the Kinsey 8 house on Beach Hill Walk, you try to say goodnight politely, but Aussie Bum insists on a kiss. Although you're not feeling it, you're not feeling like dragging out the uncomfortable moment either, so you give into his birthday wish, yet quickly wish you hadn't. It's one of those Jackhammer Kisses which instantly makes you feel like a Jackass for agreeing to the whole preposterous situation. You're too old to be bulldozed by a 29 year old, but when Aussie Bum asks you if you'll come to his birthday party tomorrow you find yourself reluctantly saying, "What time?" Aussie Bum stutters until finally he says, "What time do you want to come?" And since you don't want to come at all you end up answering with a snarky, "When the party starts." The whole thing is so weird that you begin to wonder if there is even going to be an actual party, but you say, "Just tell me when to come," because you are cranky and tired. The indecisive Aussie Bum tells you to come at 2pm and you say goodnight. But not before he Jackhammers your one last time. Anyway...

You're Not One of Those Fags on the Rebound...

...but you do bound out of bed in the morning and race to the bathroom to inspect your teeth. As you laid in The Ex's bed inspecting your Lovely Lady Mumps (which haven't shrunk one tiny bit since they mysteriously appeared five days ago), you suddenly realize that perhaps an infected molar might be causing your Jabba the Neck-like glandular swelling? Although you floss twice a day (you are a Dentist's wet dream, perhaps you should date one?), you've had some mild irritation since your last cleaning. Suddenly you feel like your gums are receding around that particular tooth and before you know it you are on the phone making an emergency dental appointment. Since your homeless ass is moving into your share house on Fire Guyland for the next week, you want to have this tooth looked at before you end up needing to be airlifted from Low Tea for a root canal.

By the time you arrive at your dentist's office you are absolutely positive that the tooth needs to be extracted and that everybody you date from here on out will think that you have Meth Mouth. But after some digital x-rays, your dentist informs you that there is nothing at all wrong with your tooth. She concurs with your doctor that your Lovely Lady Mumps must be a stress-related condition due to your recent move as well as your current situation of homelessness. Ugh.

Later that afternoon, you and your Lovely Lady Mumps decide to schlep out to Jackson Heights so you can check on the progress of your new apartment renovation and then hop on the Fire Island Fag Express in Jamaica. Luckily, when you see the apartment they are actually painting it! Your whiny Real Estate Broker, Annette Weining, informs you that it will be finished next Wednesday so you'll need to schedule an appraisal. Suddenly you start to see an inviting porch light at the end of this hellish homeless tunnel! Then you race over to the LIRR station in Jamaica and, as usual, meet three of the Kinsey 8 in the second car of the train. They've scored one of the social, six person banquette seats but right after you sit down, a hefty middle-aged woman squeezes her way through your He Man Woman Haters club and plops herself in the middle seat between Fat Albert and Rice Queen. Although everyone is irritated by the intruder, Fat Albert actually says aloud, "American trains need bigger seats because everybody in this country is fat." Your jaw drops, as does the Middle Aged Heffer's, and she says, "I will choose not to take offense to that." And with that the train continues it's way down the tracks of Denial.

After a semi-awkward ride to Babylon, you all have to switch trains and for some unknown reason the new train is much too small and it's a chaotic mess so you all get split up. You wind up lucking out and actually get a seat sitting next to a very cute boy, however, the two of you can't even chat due to a very loud, extremely cellfish phone conversation directly behind you. It actually becomes comical when the poor girl starts bawling and says way too loudly, "It's just harder to be with you than without you!" The whole train stifles a collective schadenfreude giggle. However you literally burst into tears laughing. You feel bad for the poor girl and her public break-up, but you have absolutely no control over your sick sense of humor.

Once you boys reconvene at the house the Kinsey 8 decides to pretoxicate before Low Tea, and, really, who are you to judge? The vodka is flowing through your veins by the time you begin to circulate through the throngs of boys at the Blue Whale. Collectively you all ignore the beautiful sunset in favor of much prettier Tequila Sunrises that you're drinking. But suddenly the sunburned boys part like the Red Sea and you find yourself catching eyes with Baby Daddy. You both smile awkwardly but you decide to be the bigger person and go over to actually say hello. Honestly (not that you really care), but the way he blew you off was rather strange and you're sort of curious as to what the hell happened so you figure chatting for a bit will be a nice way to smooth things over.

Only when you start talking, the conversation quickly turns all deep and weird (his doing, of course) and you're a bit confused about what the hell is actually happening? Is he into you or isn't he? And ultimately does it really matter because, honestly, you're just not that into him. But the mystery sucks you in and the next thing you know Baby Daddy pulls you out of Low Tea and walks you down to a quiet space on the dock so you can "talk." You are actually so confused by the elaborate romantic gesture that you quickly confess that you assumed that he just wasn't interested in you. At all. And then since it's one of the rare occasions in your life where you have absolutely nothing to say, you end up listening intently to everything Baby Daddy tells you. He starts yapping about how he isn't over his Ex and about how he wants to go out with you again. You can't help but think "Rebound!" as he apologizes for his sudden disappearing act, yet he explains that it had nothing to do with you. You appreciate the gesture, even though you thought that you both kind of mutually disappeared by choice. Baby Daddy then makes a bold promise that the two of you are going to go out again and that it's going to be a great date! After that Baby Daddy starts using the future tense about how "We'll do this," and "Then we'll do that!" You're so confused. It's almost like he's planning your whole relationship which you assumed never even began. The whole thing is so weird that you begin to wonder if he might be on something? But you play along just because the conversation is so bizarre that it feels best to not make waves. Luckily Baby Daddy is going home tonight on the last ferry with his friends, but he informs you, with a kiss, that he's returning (or possibly rebounding) to Fire Island tomorrow for The Invasion. Anyway...

You're Not One of Those "Wham-Bam-Thank-You-Sam" Type of Fags

...but that's pretty much how you left it with Baby Daddy after the whole "You want to fuck that Muscle Boy, don't you?" incident. Of course you ended up fucking that Muscle Boy, but even though you'd really like to date a funny boy, you kind of assumed that you'd be laughing with him, not at him. You and Baby Daddy texted back and forth a few times afterwards, but nothing ever came of it. In fact, Baby Daddy was the one who ultimately let the ball drop. Although you're not really sure why exactly he disappeared, you're definitely not worrying about it. Hell, it's summer and there are boys in Speedos to oggle!

Speaking of which, it's an absolutely gorgeous day so you and your BFF take the train to Jones Beach to work on your tan lines. And the boys are even more gorgeous than the weather. There's this one Hispanic boy in particular that has definitely caught your eye, and although your taste in men rarely overlaps, you and your BFF are literally about to wrestle over him. Luckily it's a moot point because the Hot Papi is there with his boyfriend and, get this, their two kids! Talk about a dick deflator. The kids, however, are extremely well behaved, and, you have to admit, it's pretty damn hot watching him be a Papi. You and your BFF spend the afternoon concocting an entire back-story for the two Gay Daddies. Since one of the boys is white and the other Latino, you decide that they must have each used the same white surrogate mother so that the boys are technically half-brothers. Your back-stories, of course, quickly morph into fantasies where the Hot Papi leaves his hubby after falling helplessly and hopelessly in love with either of you. Preferably you.

Both of you are still eyeing the Hot Papi when you are packing up your stuff to head back to the city, when suddenly, almost as if your fantasy has willed it to happen, Hot Papi walks over to you and says, "Hey, isn't your name [INSERT YOUR NAME HERE]?" and you are absolutely stunned because Hot Papi is right! You say, "Yeah," but it's obvious that you are confused and can't place him, even though you honestly can't imagine ever forgetting a face as sexy and handsome as his. However, Hot Papi goes on to explain that he met you at G the night you met Baby Daddy. You remember meeting a bunch of Baby Daddy's friends, but you were pretty hyper-focused on Baby Daddy that night so you cut yourself some slack for not remembering Hot Papi. You're also pretty sure that Hot Papi looks better in a skimpy Speedo than he did fully clothed that night at G. Anyway. You and Hot Papi quickly start yapping about Baby Daddy and so you ask how he's doing. Hot Papi informs you that Baby Daddy was actually supposed to be at the beach today, too, but that his daughter refused to go. You want to ask if all the Gay Daddies belong to some secret club but instead you say, "Tell Baby Daddy I said, 'Hi'," and Hot Papi promises you that he will indeed.

On the train back to the city, your BFF can't get over the fact that you had met the Hot Papi before and forgotten him, so he informs you that you have been disqualified, and he has won the the Hot Papi game of Fantasy Boyfriend by default. You reluctantly agree, but then decide to text Baby Daddy about the bizarre beach incident, just to see what will happen. You write, "You missed a beautiful day at the beach today. The weather wasn’t too bad either ;-)" and you get a response almost immediately, "I was supposed to go today but my daughter didn’t want to go. Next time I guess. Hope u had fun." Which is a lame blow-off and you know you should just let it go, but you decide to continue to taunt Baby Daddy with, "Your Hot Papi friend already told me. Too bad. It would’ve been nice to see you in a skimpy Speedo ;-) On my way back to the city now." He returns with a vague response full of zero questions, “LOL. Maybe go in a couple of weeks. Should be fun," so you decide to finally drop it. You really don't know why, but it's obvious that Baby Daddy is as just-not-that-into-you as you are just-not-that-into-him! But then you wind up receiving another post-blow-off text which really surprises you, but when you pull out your phone you realize that it's not actually from Baby Daddy. It's from the Portuguese Brazilian From London, who has, once again, commuted back to New York and is wondering if you'd like to get together tonight. Christ! Your Saturday night is starting to look like it's suddenly about to get redeemed.

Later on, after a few drinks at Duplex with the San Francisco Treat and Rice Queens I through III, you head up to Vlada to meet the Portuguese Brazilian From London. However, he's late, which is annoying since he picked the place and the time, but you kill some time yapping with Vlada's big bull dyke bouncer, aptly named Tonka until the Portuguese Brazilian From London shows up and, although it's been months since you've seen him, you quickly remember why you liked him so much. Hell, he's smart, funny and handsome! What's not to like? Oh yeah, the fact that he lives in London and has a New York boyfriend suddenly come to mind... However, the two of you end up having such a fun time flirting and chatting that you begin to get a bit melancholy. Why does it have to be so fucking hard to meet a great guy? And when you do finally meet one, why does he have to be so fucking unavailable? Your catches always turn out to be more like Catch 22's, and you almost decide to call it a night and head back to your Home-Sweet-Hovel to huddle over some Häagen-Sweet-Daz, but then something magical happens. The Portuguese Brazilian From London makes you laugh. The fact that he can make you giddy during your Pity Party ultimately pulls you out of your funk, and before you know it, the two of you are in a cab headed to your place.

You're a bit terrified that your Hobosexual roommate will be up watching Sex and the City reruns, but luckily the coast is clear and the two of you end up making your own lost episode of Sex in the City. You, of course, are playing Carrie, and, luckily, the Portuguese Brazilian From London, winds up playing a dual role of Mr. Big combined with dirty old Samantha. However, as soon as it's over, before you can even grab a Kleenex from the tissue box, the Portuguese Brazilian From London is literally pulling up his pants and tightening his belt. You feel ridiculous wiping cum off your chest while this man is, most likely, coming up with excuses to tell his New York boyfriend about why he's getting home so late. Even though the whole thing suddenly feels ridiculous, you walk the Portuguese Brazilian From London to the door, lock it, and then hop in the shower because you suddenly feel like that dirty old Kleenex you just used up and threw away. Anyway...

You're Not One of Those Muscle Boy Fags...

...but you definitely work out. Sometimes you wonder what would happen if you didn't. Would your gay card suddenly be revoked, forcing you to hang out in, gasp, straight bars? You shudder at the thought of fighting your way past those big leather girl purses (what do they keep in them anyway? Small children?) as you attempted to make you way to the bar for an overpriced, under-liquored straight cocktail. You take your drinks strong. Just like your men. Anyway.

You're on the way to the gym to get in a quick workout before you meet your Baby Daddy for a date. He told you to meet him at his apartment, which makes the whole thing seem a bit more like a hook-up than a date, but whatever. After your recent anti-climatic date with Bald Boy you definitely won't be turning down any before-dinner sex. In fact, it actually sounds like a lovely appetizer. But several blocks from the gym you wind up getting an urgent text from the Rice Queens who are having Happy Hour drinks at G. Well, perhaps it isn't really urgent, but it's definitely more urgent (not to mention more fun) than the gym, so you make a detour down 19th Street.

G is, as usual, packed and you tell yourself that you'll only have one drink before your date because you don't want to show up to your date all sloppy. Unfortunately you slurp the first cocktail down so fast that you deem it necessary to take a poll. You ask your friends what they would think of a boy they were interested in showed up on a date a little liquored up? But that's when the Rice Queens ask you in unison, "It depends more on how interested you are in him?" And before you can answer, "Well, he's not very funny," you find yourself ordering another Stoli O' and Soda from the Red Bearded Bartender who you secretly have a crush on.

Eventually you stumble uptown to Hell's Kitchen and buzz Baby Daddy's doorbell. He instantly grants you access and you have a déjà vu moment as you make your way up the stairwell. The building looks vaguely familiar, but in a very hazy "I-don't-really-remember-hooking-up-here" kind of way. But you are relieved when Baby Daddy opens his door because there's nothing at all hazy about him or all his muscle-y glory.

Unfortunately there is no appetizer sex, and the two of you head over to etcetera etcetera on 44th for actual appetizers. You've actually been to this restaurant once before for a New Year's Party, but let's face it, it was open bar and you have absolutely no memory of how the food was. But Baby Daddy knows the owner and informs you that he gets a discount. And you, my friend, love yourself a discount! When you walk in the door Baby Daddy seems to know everybody at the front bar and they all ask him random things about his kids. You immediately think about your recent grumpy run-in with a Children International sidewalk solicitor when you told him to, "Fuck the children!" and you begin to wonder what kind of evil stepmother you would make to Baby Daddy's kids? They would definitely need some character building chores that kept them out of the house. Like scraping the gum spots off of a Times Square sidewalk or something time-consuming like that. But you digress.

Dinner turns out to be delicious and Baby Daddy orders a big ol' Martini in order to catch up to you blood alcohol level. But even with the liquor the conversation is just okay. He's a very interesting person, but in the kind of way that you're sure he'd probably be much more interesting to anybody other than you. But he's sweet. Not to mention hot. Just not so funny. At all. You even go so far as to set yourself up to be the brunt of a joke. Several times. But Baby Daddy never takes the bad sitcom bait. However, nervous laughter begins to pour out of you when a pair of random hands cover up your eyes from behind and a heavily-accented man whispers into your ear, "How about after dinner I put you in my sling and have my way with you." You are in absolute shock! Your heart pounds as you wonder how exactly you're going to explain the obviously embarrassing situation to Baby Daddy when the Date Terrorist removes his hands. The threat level immediately rises to Red when the Date Terrorist finally reveals himself and you don't even recognize him! Oy vey, this ain't gonna be good! However, when Baby Daddy finally introduces the Date Terrorist to you as his friend who owns the restaurant you instantly breathe a sigh of relief because you realize you've never met him before.

When you finally recover from your near heart-attack, you're actually a bit sad because this is exactly the type of crazy silly thing that you wish Baby Daddy would do to make you laugh. Or anybody you were dating for that matter. Unfortunately this embarrassing moment is the highlight of your date until, of course, you split the discounted check and head back to Baby Daddy's for some much deserved dessert. Things progress pretty quickly and before you know it the two of you are rolling around Baby Daddy's bed in a naked frenzy. And although his arms are the size of your thighs, Baby Daddy jumps up on top of your crotch and starts to grind back and forth. That's when Baby Daddy looks deep into your eyes and says with all seriousness, "You want to fuck that Muscle Boy, don't you?" And right then and there you realize that Baby Daddy is actually very funny. Anyway...

You're Not One of Those Fags Who Juggles Boys...

...but when you wake up the next morning (in your own bed which is actually slightly disconcerting) your iPhone is definitely juggling text messages from both Bald Boy and Baby Daddy. Since you're so terrible with names, you're actually terrified that you'll mix up their names and end up calling one Bald Baby and the other Daddy Boy. But there's little chance of a naming mishap in a text, so you answer Baby Daddy's offer of getting together tomorrow night before he goes to some charity event. You actually chuckle at the offer (perhaps Baby Daddy does have a sense of humor after all?) because it seems a bit lame. If Baby Daddy isn't going to invite you to the actual charity event, then why is he bothering to ask you out at all? If he wants to go out on a real date, then he should choose a night when he's not busy. Right? Perhaps he's juggling even more boys than you are... Anyway. You respond with a less than exuberant, "What time?" and then click send. Of course you instantly regret it when you read Bald Boy's message because Bald Boy wants to know if you'd like to grab dinner, get this, tomorrow night! Ugh. You are so lame at this Dating Game. So you text Bald Boy back and say that you are waiting to hear back from a "friend" about tentative plans, but if they fall through then you'd love to have dinner with him. And the funny thing is that you're not lying. You'd much rather have dinner with Bald Boy than be the recipient of Baby Daddy's charity before his Charity Event.

After six hours of textpectation while waiting for Baby Daddy to respond (the boy is unemployed, how busy could he be?) you decide that you can wait no longer. So you text Bald Boy and say that your "friend" never got back to you so you'd love to grab a bite tomorrow night. Of course, you wind up hearing back from Baby Daddy exactly twenty minutes after you RSVP to Bald Boy. Your nerves are already shot and you haven't even gone out on an actual date with either of these boys yet! Just one extended Three-Night-Stand with Bald Boy and one No-Night-Stand with Baby Daddy. So you write back to Baby Daddy and tell him that you ended up making plans since you never heard back from him, yet suggest getting together next week after you get back from California.

The next night you meet Bald Boy at a church on the corner of Carmine & Bleecker and, although he's on the phone when you arrive, surprisingly on-time, Bald Boy greets you with a big smile and squeezes your knee when you sit down on the steps next to him. He gets off the phone quickly and gives you three cheap n' cheerful choices (at your request) of pizza, pasta or sushi. Since you've been feeling a bit Gay Fat recently, you end up choosing sushi and the two of you end up having a lovely romantic dinner on the back patio of Yama.

Although your phone almost vibrates itself out of your cargo shorts during dinner, you luckily have the good sense not to check it until you excuse yourself for the bathroom. Apparently when it rains, it whores. Not only has Baby Daddy finally gotten back to you about setting a date, but the Portuguese Brazilian From London is also in town and wants to get together before commuting back across the pond! And if that isn't enough, there is also an email from the Columbia Colombian photographer you met a few weeks ago, but you decide right then and there to let that one slip through the cracks and delete the email without giving it a second thought.

The conversation is anything but light, and, needless to say, there ain't a lot of laughs. You talk about Murdered Mothers and Dead Dads and since you're about to burst into tears you somehow resist the urge to burst into song and sing about how it's a Hard Knock Life. Although you know this is completely tasteless, you also have faith that there is a boy out there who would laugh at your twisted joke because his sense of humor will be just as fucked up as yours. But Bald Boy is not that boy.

After dinner you go back to Bald Boy's balmy studio and you're about to let him have his way with you when he mentions that he has dated not one, but two of your Connexion friends! Once again, you start humming "It's a Small World After All," but this time you're not being a nasty size queen. Eventually the two of you get down to some dirty gay business, however it's not as good as it was at the beach. Now that you're back in the city and not playing Beach House, everything seems a little more real. A little too real. Even though the sex has been pretty great, as soon as you know a relationship isn't going anywhere you always wind up emotionally divesting, which inevitably has a direct effect on the chemistry, and ultimately turns your great sex into some merely mediocre man-mashing.

Afterwards you hop in the shower to freshen up and when you emerge squeaky clean, Bald Boy informs you that he has to wake up at 6:40 for a breakfast meeting. Since it's already midnight, you decide that you'd rather have your beauty sleep than cuddle for a few hours before being kicked to the curb. Bald Boy doesn't seem particularly distraught over your departure as he walks you to the door and gives you a peck before letting you out. Suddenly it feels like you have one less pair of testicles in the air to worry about. Anyway...

You're Not One of Those Fags Who Has a Laundry List of Boyfriend Qualifications...

...but you do have five things on a very short list that you absolutely must have. At first glance they seem rather simple, however, when taking into account your dismally unsuccessful dating history over the past four years, they actually seem rather elusive:

1. Must make you laugh.
2. Must have great sex.
3. Must like to cuddle.
4. Must like the beach.
5. Must like to drink. (Okay perhaps this qualification should hold a more coveted position on your list...)

But nothing else is negotiable! This, of course, is your first thought when you wake up in Bald Boy's arms (#3) with a bit of a hangover (#5) after a night of great sex (#2) at Bald Boy's beach house (#4). Bald Boy is a very rare species. He's a four out of five. Unfortunately (for you), Bald Boy is missing your number one requirement and, after a romantic weekend of no laughs, this is something that even you can't deny. Although you've had a magical beach weekend in Ocean Grove, you can't help but wonder if today will actually be the end of your Three-Night-Stand?

You and Bald Boy explore Asbury Park and the day flies by. Later on you have a pleasant, yet humorless drive back to the city so you can meet the Boy Luck Club for dinner and, surprise-surprise, drinks. You and Bald Boy say your goodbyes on a West Village sidewalk and Bald Boy asks you about your plans this week before you head to California. Since you don't really have any plans (Loser, party of one!), Bald Boy tells you that he'll call to make a date which seems perfect. You're actually curious to have some alone time so you can sort out how exactly how you feel about Bald Boy. Either you'll keep thinking about him or it'll be yet another case of "Out of Sight, Out of Hind..." Only time will tell.

You race home to drop off your stuff and shower, and then meet the Boy Luck Club at Elmo where you order the world's weakest, yet most expensive mocktail masquerading as a Mandarin and Soda. In fact, the drink is so weak that the taste of lime actually over-powers the non-existent hint of mandarin (even though you haven't even squeezed the lime!) But you and the boys have lots of laughs during a nice, sober dinner sitting outside on Seventh Avenue before deciding to swing by G for some drinks that actually contain liquor. You wait at the bar for your your favorite Red Headed Bartender who makes drinks the way they were supposed to be made (strong!) while a very hot muscle boy (stronger!) standing next to you crushes a wet napkin and throws it over the bar into a trash can. Without a moment of hesitation, you actually forfeit your turn to order from the Red Headed Bartender in order to say, "Two points," to the cute muscle boy who chuckles, but walks away.

But then he walks back. So you say in a snarky, yet somewhat confused tone, "You're back." To which he responds, "I realized that I should've stayed." And the two of you begin to sip your drinks (#5 -- Check!) while chatting about how jealous he is about your beach weekend (#4 -- Check!). Before you can get through the rest of your check list, the muscle boy throws you for a loop and tells you that he has two kids? He used to be married (to a girl no less!) and has a five and ten year old. You, of course, start imagining yourself making his children's lives a living hell as their Evil Stepmonster, ordering them to polish your Pradas as you yell "Make them shine like the top of the Chrysler Building!" and, of course, beating them with wire hangers if they fail to deliver. Your fantasy of free slave labor gets you kind of hot and it isn't long before you and your Baby Daddy are making out in the back of the bar. It gets pretty intense, so when Baby Daddy asks you to come back to his place you begin to have a moral dilemma. Actually it's more of a whore-al dilemma. For someone who recently proclaimed to be too old and mature to have one night stands anymore, you ironically find yourself in the precarious and slightly slutty position of not having slept in your own bed for the past three nights. But the big question is: Will you try for four, Whore?

Of course you will! As you are hailing a taxi you decide to check out the Guinness Book of World Records first thing when you wake up tomorrow just to see if you've actually broken some Homeless Hooker's record. For now, however, you settle for another Guinness when Baby Daddy offers you a drink. Although Baby Daddy's apartment is a bit messy and dirty laundry is scattered about the floor, you, my friend, are much more interested in seeing how many more qualifications you can check off your laundry list. It doesn't take long before you are both naked in bed and you're a bit shocked because Baby Daddy's upper body is so big and bulky that you begin to wonder if he's on steroids? However, the balls never lie and there ain't no shrunken junk downstairs. In fact, everything seems to be extra-large which is actually somewhat shocking after spending your wee-weekend with Bald Boy (and no, you are not st-st-stuttering).

The sex is pretty fucking amazing (#2 -- Check!), and afterwards you are so exhausted that you actually fall asleep in Baby Daddy's arms for god knows how long (#3 -- Check!), but when you wake up you decide that you have to go back to your Home-Sweet-Hovel, partly because you feel like you are somehow desecrating Bald Boy who you haven't actually thought about until right now because, just like Bald Boy, Baby Daddy has yet to make you laugh (#1). Anyway...