FAG FORWARD! You're Not One of Those Fags Who Disappears Without a Trace...

...but the idea of making Change of Address cards is way too daunting, so you decide to just blow it off. You don't even bother to send an email because there's just too much other crap to do! Your move is actually rather uneventful and happens much quicker than the estimate, yet somehow it costs more. That night, you meet up with the Boy Luck Club for a celebratory dinner in Chelsea, and although you are exhausted, the Boys are in a playful mood and the next thing you know Fat Albert is burning plastic straws with a candle and Half Share is dousing it with water. This, of course, turns into a full-fledged water fight and the four of you are soaked beyond recognition when you ask for the check. Rice Queen generously pays for everybody, which is a blessing because you couldn't afford it. Hell you can't afford anything since you bought furniture. For years you've depended on the kindness of roommates to furnish you, but now you have to go out and buy your own. And unfortunately for you, your taste is much fancier than it deserves to be.

Afterwards you head over to Therapy to meet your BFF for a very therapeutic beer bong which you take on your knees, mostly just to show off amongst all the gay boys who can't seem to funnel a beer without spewing Bud Lite. The applause helps you rise from your now wobbly knees, but even though you're light-headed you certainly notice the cute boy with the amazing body, leaning against the wall and smiling at you. Of course you start chatting him up, but unfortunately his body is more interesting than any of the conversation it produces. But that doesn't stop you from going home with him. Even though you just moved and should be dying to sleep in your own bed which has been in storage for a month, you're definitely in one of those moods where you'd rather wake up in someone else's.

One thing leads to another and the next thing you know, even though you're far from sleeping, you are definitely in his bed. Although you don't have a problem with your slutty self as you grab at the sexy boy's wiener through his jeans, his wiener dog certainly does. Although your trick locked his demented dachshund outside of the bedroom, the jealous dog is having a tantrum, barking, scratching, ramming his little body against the door with the hope of getting inside and ripping you to shreds as if you were an old Blondie song. Although Wiener Boy tells you to ignore his pup, you're having trouble following his orders. You're also kind of turned off by the way Wiener Boy can't seem to look at you. It almost seems as if he's not just ignoring his diabolical dachshund, but he's trying to tune you out as well! Wiener Boy's eyes are closed as if he's trying to imagine himself somewhere else, which has the immediate effect of making you imagine yourself somewhere else, too. Specifically in your own bed without some insanely jealous yappy dog whose mission in life is to cock-block you! So you get up and tell him you have to go.

The next day you begin another lost weekend on Fire Guyland with the Kinsey 8. Your first evening consists of cocktails at Low Tea, cocktails at High Tea, followed by cocks and tails at Daniel Nardicio's Panty Revolution in Cherry Grove. You wear a cute pair of green Diesel's and end up hitting it off with DJ Aaron Elvis who calls you his muse and plays Rihanna's "Don't Stop the Music" before stopping the music and clearing the stage for Lady Gaga and The Dazzle Dancers. You "Just Dance" until the Dazzle Dancers eventually ejaculate glitter which instantly attaches to your sweaty body as if you are made of Velcro.

After the Glitter grenade detonates, you run into the Endohottie who you had an odd coffee date with months ago. Although it never blossomed into anything, you kind of thought it might, and tonight seems like the perfect time to find out for sure. You're having a super nice chat, but eventually your bladder gets the best of you and you excuse yourself for the little boys room. But when you return, surprise-surprise, Endohottie is nowhere to be found. And trust yourself, you're drunk enough to conduct a thorough, yet pathetic search even though the little sobering voice inside of you says you should call it a night because the Endohottie is long gone. When you don't recognize anybody, you decide it's time to walk home. You walk along the beach because it would take another keg or two before you were drunk enough to brave the Meat Rack at 2:30am wearing nothing but a cute pair of Diesel undies.

You wake up surprisingly un-hung, and since it's a lovely day you decide to take an outdoor shower. Unfortunately the boys next door (who are all a far cry from being The Boy Next Door), race up to their roof and start giggling while gawking at your birthday suit while you desperately try to not drop the soap. After an afternoon split perfectly between the beach and the pool, you end up running into the Endohottie at Low Tea who gives you a big fake, "Hello!" You cut to the chase and say, "You disappeared last night," to which he responds with an even bigger and faker, "Oh, I'm sorry." But you're over it so you ask him with a snarky tone, "Are you really?" and then you walk over to the bar because you're much better at drinking games than mind games.

After that, it's all a blur. You may or may not make out with an Indian guy whose name you can't seem to remember, although you do have distinct memories of touching his delicious body and dancing a bit too close for comfort. The next day someone confirms this by saying, "Who was that Indian guy you were making out with?" only you have no idea so you just shrug. Later on you receive a text message from some unrecognizable number which says, "Was a pleasure. Even if you stormed off." Your first thought is that it was from Indian Guy, but now you're wondering if it might be from the Endohottie? Regardless, you don't respond.

The next day you are definitely Hung, but somehow make it to the beach with Rice Queen. Nothing much interesting happens beside some rubbernecking when a really hot guy in a beard walks by and the two of you keep making googlie eyes at one another. Beard Boy stops and turns around twice, yet ultimately keeps on walking. And when the clouds blow in, you quickly vote yourself off the island.

That night, you decide to place a Missed Connections posting on Craigslist to see if you can find Beard Boy. And the next morning you actually get a response! You ask the guy to send a photo so you can make sure it's the same person, but when he ignores your request you are convinced you are being taken for a ride by a crazy person. But since you have his email address, you quickly look him up on Facebook and unfortunately the Crazy Craigslist Boy is neither Beard Boy, nor your type. So, in lieu of sending a photo, when he asks you if the guy you saw was wearing Silver Converse, although you have absolutely no idea, you simply reply, "No," and disappear without a trace. However, the next time you check your inbox there's an email from the Daytripping Freeloader asking, "What happened to you? Why did you disappear? Did I do something to offend you?"

Oy. You're a bit surprised because it's not like you've heard from him since your impromptu trip to Boston, but you also haven't been sweating it either. So you respond, assuring the Daytripping Freeloader that he did absolutely nothing wrong, but you just decided that the long distance thing coupled with his recent break-up (you're nice enough not to use the word "rebound") have made you take two steps back. When he replies and says, "That's fine. I just wish you had been more upfront," you initially wonder how much more upfront you could have been? But ultimately you decide to let it go and just disappear into the endless task of unpacking moving boxes. Anyway...

You're Not One of Those Coffee Date Fags...

...but when a boy you've been eyeing on Connexion for years suggests getting together for a Cup o' Joe, you jump at the chance. You've been chatting online all week and although he had an Endoscopy this afternoon, he told you he'd call afterwards if he felt up to meeting. And he has kept to his word, so off pack up your laptop and head over to Joe's to meet your next Blah-Blah-Blog victim. However, as you head down Sixth Avenue the pit in your stomach begins to fill with butterflies, or more likely moths, when you realize that this is the same coffee place where you first met Blonde Beard last January. The idea of possibly starting a new relationship while reminiscing about a failed one seems like a very, very bad omen. Only when you walk up to the place you realize that you are indeed wrong! You have somehow confused Joe's with Jack's and have gone to the wrong establishment! Although you are thrilled, you also realize that you are now late, so you call up your date and explain the situation while you walk the few extra blocks to meet a new boy at a new venue that someday you'll probably have to shun because of painful, caffeinated memories. The Endohottie is waiting for you outside and you apologize for your dyslexic mix-up. He's dressed very well for someone who just had an invasive medical procedure, but that probably has more to do with the fact that he designs menswear and has an outfit for every outlandish occasion. He could, however, use a lesson or two in Accessories as his tortoise shell sunglasses aren't winning any catwalk races against the Hare. If anything, these glasses are more prone to scare the Hare into conceding.

Even though it's beach weather, you end up ordering a hot tea and instantly end up regretting it. Since Joe's is packed, you both decide to go for a walk and head over to Sheridan Square in search of a park bench. You find a nice spot in the shade next to a few Homeless Trannies who are so down and out they aren't even in drag. But you aren't even noticing them because your attention is focused completely on these tiny little metal objects that are stuck all over the Endohottie's left ear. On one hand they kind of look like tiny adhesive electrodes that the doctor forgot to remove after his invasive procedure, but in the shimmery light of Christopher Street, they are definitely giving off a Rhinestone effect that is surely going to invoke some kind of Tranny Jealousy. You almost hear a creepy woman's voice say, "Look away from the Ear, Carol Ann!" but you are quickly distracted from the decorative medical objects as the two of you begin a pissing contest of all your various ailments. You match his endoscopy with your colonoscopy, and he quickly meets your call and actually raises you with a remissive case of Testicular Cancer. Thankfully, you have nothing to compete with The Big C, but you do tell him about your own testicular tribulations, specifically your varicosal veins that you initially mistook for a cancerous lump. Although you are having a fun chat, suddenly you feel like you should be feeding pigeons with what little is left over from your Social Security Check as you reminisce about the golden days of Hollywood before the Talkies took over. Aren't dates supposed to be hot and exciting? So you try to imagine yourself kissing the Endohottie. Only instead of getting lost in his lips, you find yourself drawn back to the adhesive electrodes while wondering if the testicular cancer has left the Endohottie with One Ball in the Corner Pocket?

The Homeless Trannies, however, don't seem all that interested in your little game of Pocket Pool. They're much more interested in screeching at each other about who's Adam's Apple is more feminine. You both decide to leave before you are enlisted into the Tranny Tantrum for an unbiased opinion, but the timing is good because the Endohottie has theater tickets and has to go home and change, where hopefully he'll remember to remove the Rhinestones. You decide to walk with the Endohottie on your way toward the subway, however, as you pass by a pizza place that is mysteriously not named Ray's, you hear your name yelled out from the open window. Although you're slightly worried about the potential disaster of being caught on a coffee date, you are thrilled to look up and find your BFF shoving the last bit of a slice into his mouth. So you say your goodbyes to the Endohottie and run inside to say, "Hi." Your BFF instantly gives you a disapproving look as he points toward the Endohottie and asks, "Who was that?" You haven't even begun to explain when your BFF points to the big dumb cup in your hand and asks, "And what is that?" You look at the tall cup which is now too cold to drink, and before you get a chance to answer your BFF has figured it out, "Ewwwww. Were you on a Coffee Date?" You laugh as you drop the paper cup into the trash can as if it is infected with cooties and say, "Is it Happy Hour yet?" And you both head over to XES to get a real, non-caffeinated adult beverage. Anyway...