Brandon James Singleton faces a sad conclusion: Dating isn’t as easy as it was when you were pretending to be straight… and he may not check off all the items on his checklist after all.
You know what really sucks? When people hop into short-lived relationships. Apparently, since they both have siblings, and both love Britney’s third album the most, and neither likes going out to bars or clubs (though that doesn’t include Wednesdays through Tuesdays) and both previously had bad breakups and think most gay guys are trashy (not them, though) … They instantly knew when they saw each other’s upper torsos on that handy business networking site for gays only, they were star-crossed lovers destined to spend their lives together.
You can tell ‘em they’re making a mistake (again), but they swear up and down that “this one is different.” But they still find themselves single two or three weeks later because the person they thought they were “falling in love with” has somehow changed and lied to them about something and was just as trashy as the last bf.
Imagine that. “DtxFUNboiPartyAllNight8in,” the serious mature guy you’ve been talking to — your soulmate of two weeks — lied to you about something! I can’t believe it! I won’t believe it. Never!
Then you have to go out and get them drunk, allow them to be silly and stupid as they attempt to numb the pain … only to repeat the entire process over the following week with their new soulmate, “DoggyWannaBone8in.”
But you know what else really sucks? Being single. Especially when you finally feel like you’re mentally and emotionally more ready than you’ve ever been to handle a true mature relationship.
I think back even as far as my first girlfriend. (Don’t laugh!) Three simple words: Private. Christian. Academy. Those days, the only way the term gay was used was to describe how you felt making a “joyful noise to the Lord.” Ohhhhh, Sandi Patti! Who needed The Simpsons when you had Sandi, her little orange pal Gerbert & The Friendship Company on video and cassette!
Anyhoo, back to the early days: How nervous and awkward as it felt to ask someone out on a date — a date consisting of the parent who embarrassed you the least, driving you to a PG-13 movie, parking around the corner (as if that led anyone to believe you, the 12 year old, drove yourself) meeting her inside, awkwardly holding hands, trying to mimic the older teenagers sitting across from you … only to have the parental waiting outside, in their pajamas, to pick you up at 9 (it’s a school night!).
Even with the limited resources of being a sheltered naive kid, no job, no money, no idea of the real world, no knowledge of how amazing a chocolate martini would one day taste … I miss it. I miss the simplicity of “dating.”
Nowadays, so much emphasis is put on everything from hair color, to abs, even race, money, car — it’s like almost impossible to get to know someone because you spend so much time trying to live up to expectations …. or worse, creating the ideal image to make others think you’re the (insert s word).
I’ve been sorta dreading this entry the most.
After my last breakup, I knew I needed to just concentrate on me. Not all Grey Gardens, old bitter cat-man, or anything. Just working on being comfortable in my own skin. And I did. Still am. Eventually I started going on dates again. But the ones I felt were potential would either expect to bang that first night or wanna instantly label each other as boyfriends after a couple of days, and I’m at a point where I’m not about that. I’m a little old-fashioned. A little Petticoat Junction with side of Will & Grace. I don’t mind meeting for drinks. But I like to actually go on a date. Slowly get to know each other. It takes friends a good time frame before I’ll let them in, and really share. You better believe if you’re trying to take on the title of boyfriend, that won’t be happening simply in a week or two. I wanna know you’re favorite thing to do when nobody’s around. Not the cheap cliche answer of “watching movies” or “hanging with friends.”
BOOOO! Try again.
I wanna know that you use your remote control and lip sync to Usher or (heaven forbid) even Bieber in your living room. I want to have a discussion. That’s both parties talking. AND listening. Sharing. Laughing. About life. The world. Politics. Pop culture. That’s when you find out the fun, embarrassing, important, heartfelt moments, that create bonds between friends.
And me personally, I want my equal, to be my friend. That’s not a lot to ask. Expecting a commitment, just to have a title, without even knowing anything about me? THAT’S a lot to ask. So, I guess we have to pull out the red marker and I get a big x this week.
Cause I can date, and I’ll continue to date. But I don’t know who has a hold of that missing piece of the puzzle. Unfortunately for my control issues, I don’t think I’m supposed to. All I can do is continue to work on myself and better myself so that all the other pieces are aligned and ready. Just trying to make it easier for Ryan Phillippe … I mean, whomever that person is … to move right on in with that missing puzzle piece.
Let’s hope Diana was telling us the truth when she said you can’t hurry love. Besides, cat hair is a biyatch to get out of your clothes.
Peace out. xoxoxo