Thursday, April 26, 2007

Gay dating in the styx (part 5)

As passive aggressive as I might be, I enjoy flirting. Every once in a while, it pays off. More often than not, however, I end up in a situation like this:

In my first weeks in New York, I made a point to try out as many of the bars as possible. Most of the time, I had guides, but every so often, those friends were all busy. Now, dance clubs are one thing, but it's always a little daunting to go into an actual sit-down bar by oneself. But, I thought I'd give it a try once, at least.

So, after plomping myself down at the most center-of-the-room bar stool I could find, I began to survey. Couples, couples and more couples. That's pretty much all you find in bars nowadays, thanks to Internet hook-ups, but this time, I also noticed a particularly dapper man of about my age giving me an occasional stare. We played this game for about 20 minutes -- and word of warning, I've been known to play it all night without ever showing my hand -- but he eventually came over and introduced himself. Pierre. Nice, quasi-exotic name.

We moved upstairs where there were tables, and the cute, awkward waiter who couldn't have been on the job more than a few days came and took our order. Upon his return, he accidentally dumped my drink all over Pierre. Even though it was a Cape Cod, which has a rather high staining potential, Pierre took it pretty well and resisted chewing out the hapless kid. Another good sign.

Then, the whispered sweet nothings began.

"Are you going to come take care of me?" he hissed in my ear.

"What do you mean?" I asked, thinking I was reading between the lines. Alas, this was something for literal interpretation.

"I mean, would you come to my apartment and cook for me? Clean for me? Take care of me while I work? I think you'd look..."

And, that was enough for me. I took his number, and wisely for once, did not give him mine. Strangely enough, I've never called it. So, don't ever say there aren't any more old-fashioned guys out there. Believe me, there are. And you can have them.

2 comments:

Swanny said...

I think you're missing out on a hug opportunity, Mike. And you probably wouldn't even have to wear a french maid's outfit. Unless you wanted to...

Mike said...

Yeah. But he lived in Queens. What good is being a kept man if you have to live in Queens?