Gay dating in the styx (part 4)

Moving to New York from southern New Jersey was a famine to feast move in regards to a dating scene, but -- if you'll pardon the mixed metaphor -- I quickly learned that not all fishing holes were created equal. In particular, it was only a matter of months before I learned to avoid Splash on a Saturday night, that awkward mix of eager tourists and natives equally eager to exploit them.

A little debauchery is fun, sure, but I found out how fast it turned to awkwardness thanks to Igor. While he was cute and sweet, he was one of the zero to 60 gays, meaning he seemed to be ready for a long-term relationship shortly after meeting. But as I always say, I'll go out with almost anyone once, so I agreed to a date. In Brooklyn. My first venture into the outer boroughs, not counting the airports.

Unfortunately, Igor was not the easiest person to understand, thanks to an incredibly thick Polish accent, so his directions to me were a little flawed. Simply telling me to take the "express train," I assumed he meant the A train, the only express train near me. It was only until I was nearly in East New York that I realized he had meant the 2 train, which isn't anywhere near me, and it took me a good 90 minutes of wandering through Brooklyn to right this wrong.

As I mentioned yesterday, I was battling a somewhat nasty cold during this date, so arriving weakened from walking so long and nearly two hours late really set the tone for the evening. As luck would have it, he had prepared the dinner that any sick boy would dream about: heavy sausage, potatoes and sauerkraut. I ate as much as I could -- mostly in silence, as he was angry with me for misunderstanding his directions -- and I was trying not to be intimidated by the giant photo of John Paul II staring at me from the mini-shrine in his honor ("You like?" he asked me, motioning to the Pope, to which I feebly answered yes).

I was ready to call it a night after dinner, but he insisted we return to Splash, where I sat nearly comatose at the bar for about two hours with the rather, er, interesting videos that were playing. Let's just say the men in the videos were pretty darn handy and put their all into their work.

Not surprisingly, I tried the fade away after that date, but karma never has been kind to me in the dating department. The first time I ever returned to Splash, nearly six months later, guess who was there to greet me? Ah, how quickly I was reminded why I should never return to my passive aggressive ways. I certainly don't want to eliminate every going out opportunity in the city for me.

Still, Igor was a gentleman, which is more than I can say for...well, we'll get into that one the next time.