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Facepalming at the End of the Year

12/28/2012

Entry 12/28/2012 05:22:03 PM – Mentat 673

Facepalm: (verb) The only logical answer to a stupid question or statement. (from: Urban Dictionary)

I thought that I wasn’t going to be putting any more entries in for the 2012 year, but this one from yesterday certainly earned it’s place… There’s not much story behind this, I have a profile on ManHunt — the only profile on a gay site that’s left because it would take too much work to delete — and my profile reads atypical to the cruising that goes on within the site. As you can see here:

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Sure, the photo’s old… I made a promise that I’ll be updating everything, everywhere in the coming year. I happen to think I look all right in this, and in spite of the product placement, enjoy the rare drink once or twice in the year. But the thing is that it reads quite simply looking for friends chatting and definitely dating. It doesn’t talk about hook ups, one-nighters, NSA play time.

I do get the occasional response from people. Usually around my age, (which ends up turning into a “let’s hook up?” for which my response is almost always a resounding, “no thanks!). Sometimes it ends up with some sort of battle of words with men (usually my age) that think that with the coming years to retirement, I should be getting sex whenever I can; which almost always ends with them screaming off never to be heard again. But sometimes, some youngling will occasionally chat me up as well. I usually know the reason for this: there’s a strong subculture of older/younger in the community. Most of the time I don’t mind being the older brother or even crazy old uncle every kid loves and every adult ends up rolling their eyes over. Sometimes though — I end up with responses like this:

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As a friend of mine said when I called her and told her about this message, “Ummm, eww!”

Seriously, I sat there looking at the message and thinking a combination of things. The first is that this is proof there is something definitely in the water here in the Tundras of New England that makes queerfolk as weird as possible. The next is that the numbers that were in this person’s profile name come up to a date, that date usually significant to the person’s birthday and that birth date puts them smack dab in the middle of Gemini. And with the exclusion of me, every single Gemini I have ever met has been bat-shit crazy. It doesn’t matter whether or not this particular person shares the same birthday as me, it’s not the same year and there… yes, completely bat-shit crazy. Finally, the last thing that was going through my mind was whether facepalming after all this was appropriate or whether or not I should simply slam my head into the desk repeatedly in the hopes of either unconsciousness or a revelation. Either or, would’ve been win-win.

So I think for the new year, I’m going to live by my Rules.. These are the rules that I sort of tell people in a humorous way because of the way people don’t seem to understand what it is that they’re putting forth (that I’m reading) and nor what it is I’m looking for. For those that are only into skin and no deeper, those rules should be enough to scare them off, particularly given that Rhode Island seems filled with Lilliputians and the first requirement are as mythical as finding unicorns. For those individuals that actually are of substance, they will either look at it as skin-deep only and leave well enough alone (win), or might take it as a challenge (and prove themselves to be the exception (also a win). But given the fact that there’s something in the water — perhaps it’ll keep everyone out of my hair until I either sort out what it is I’m looking for and lucky enough to find in an encounter out there in the world, or simply accept my celibacy in its entirety.

And in case anyone doesn’t remember my spouting off the rules, here they are:

The Rules:

1. They have to be over 6’4″ for me consider eligible for dating on a regular basis.

2. They have to be older than my combat boots (29 years) for me to actually ask them out for coffee.

3. They have to be older than how many years I’ve been out of the closet (33 years) for me to consider dating.

4. They have to be mature, vivacious and so at peace with their issues for me to consider breaking any of the first three rules.

Who knows? Maybe I’ll get lucky. If not, at least I won’t end up with the next someone calling me daddy… I know I’m old enough to be many a child’s parent, but I suffer from too much Peter Pan Syndrome to want to face it any time in the near future.

Anyway, I think I’ve said my peace for the end of the year. I’m off to play a game or two and then head to bed when I tire. Until the next time.

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