File Under Ass

Unfortunately, I have been sick all weekend. At first I thought it was just my unbelievably crappy Fall allergies kicking in, but after feeling shitty most of the day on Friday, it was waking up Saturday morning at 5:15 after about 3 hours of 20 minute "naps" that finally confirmed for me that I currently have a miserable head cold. So Saturday, despite having plans to knock a number of errands off of my ever growing list, babysit a friend's child and have drinks with some former high school classmates, the only thing I was actually able to knock off was a bottle of DayQuil. Today, although still feeling as miserable, I managed to at least leave my apartment for about 10 minutes to grab OJ and a very necessary second box of Kleenex, this time with lotion. All in all, I feel like ass.

However, that is not the only reason that this particular posting's title is File Under Ass. Since I had nothing to do but watch re-runs of Meredith Baxter Birney movies on Lifetime (didn't even make it to Saturday Night Live last night) and the Redskins this afternoon, I decide today would be the perfect day to revisit my little online diary. When I write a post, I tend to write it, check it for spelling (although I always miss one or two) and then publish it. However, I got a feeling I needed to go back and really read everything that I have posted to date. And now, having done so, I have a few addendums I would like to add to previous posts.

First and foremost, as much as I might like to think so, and as much as my mom tells me, I am not perfect. I am far from it. In fact, in all likelihood, if there is a heaven, and if some day I am lucky enough to gain entrance to its main theater, I will probably have an obstructed view seat. In the third balcony. On a day when the air conditioning is broken. And I will be wearing a wool turtleneck. But I post on this blog on a not-so-regular basis in order to share some funny stories, feelings and experiences I have. Yes, I may have a touch of Carrie Bradshaw-like drama in my writing style, never the less, I have always tried to write with humor and good intentions. But as we all know, the road to hell is paved with good intentions.

Which leads me to my second addendum. Within the 24 posts I have made over the past several weeks, I have mentioned how difficult it is to find a guy in this city who is a) available to date (i.e., not married, partnered, boyfriend is out of town, boyfriend is asleep) and b) actually wants to date. Fortunately for me, I have been able to have 8 such dates with one such guy. Yet in my post on Friday, I made the comment that although I have really enjoyed dating this person, I was reading way too in to how this person may or may not be feeling; and since I have only experienced "insta-relationships" in the past (see next paragraph), I indicated that I was open to meeting others. For the record, since I first met this gentleman, I have had 8 dates. And only 8 dates. With just one guy, this guy I have fondly referred to as "quasi-dating guy." Period. Although I do feel that anyone in any relationship that has not reached the "exclusivity" phase has the right to see other people, I have not felt compelled to juggle five guys (as if that would ever happen) in order to see which man would be separated from the boys. With that said though, and for my own benefit only, I need to make the point that I have not been looking for the next great date with someone new, only the next great date with the one I have already met, although whether or not a ninth date will actually be in the cards for me remains to be seen.

Thirdly, and somewhat related to my second addendum, I have not actually gone on more than one date with someone in such a long time that I'm afraid that I am almost retarded on a dating scale. I don't know what it's like to actually take things at what many people would probably consider a normal pace. Let's see, the one guy I have actually lived with, moved in with me after three months (and that was SUCH a good idea), the guy I dated last winter had a picture of me on his fridge after our third date (creepy) and other than a gentleman I dated when I first came out four years ago, I don't have a lot to compare things to. And therefore in my own socially retarded way, I have managed to create drama for myself, where previously none existed (hence my previous post references to being a typical gay male).

There is a guy I know of who also has a blog with whom I have previously chatted with online, after his blog was quoted by a more national blog (and then national newspaper) that I read on a daily basis. Blog, blog, blog. Anyway, at one point he also wrote about a guy that he was dating and specifically wrote how embarrassed he would be if this gentleman ever found his blog, because in all likelihood, this gentleman would probably think he was crazy. I personally thought he was stupid to even think that, let alone write in a public diary. Wow, I am realizing how right his postings might be.

So, in closing this posting that has quickly become a novella, to my one previously unknown reader (no offense to any one else who may randomly stumble upon this blog and consider themselves now faithful readers), you may file Friday's post under ass. Enough said.