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 | | Bad Dates Are Good Omens |
It has happened to most all of us gay men: A guy sets himself up on a date with someone he’s seen around town for years, expecting a fraternal evening of companionship and revelation. He meets up with the familiar face, they walk to a restaurant, and they sit down to pore over the menu. The two begin to offer a little of their inner selves as an appetizer. The real thing begins to unfold, as opposed to the face (and the body) that has been long engraved into memory. But then, as the dinner progresses, the date begins to divulge details about his recently lost love and won’t shake the subject for the rest of the dinner. Talking about his ex-boyfriend and how the break-up has left him broken and vulnerable winds up as a major turn-off to the other guy. All the other dude can think of is “This is not sexy!”
Amazingly, this has happened to me only once, in November of 2003. Let’s call the guy “Toddy.” I had been debating on whether to ask him on a date, or his condo-mate, whom I also knew and should have chosen. When first entering the restaurant, he was a little pouty with the hostess, and this kind of raised the “non-sexy” flag for me before we even sat down. He then spilled the beans about his ex (let’s call him “David”) over most of the dinner. Hell, while we were discussing negatives, I figured I’d talk about my discrimination complaints that at the time I was about to file against my ex-employer. He is supposedly a human resources “expert,” so he was understandably curious and empathetic about the issues surrounding my new cases.
He seemed distant at the end, and although I was acting very satisfied, I was amazed at how indifferent I felt about this date, particularly when I expected some sparks, at least on my end. Sparkless, we then parted, but not until he offered to dispense advice and help coach me through the next few months as I file my complaints. For the sake of chivalry and open-mindedness, I offered a second date. So I emailed him, and he responded once with a rather superficial thank-you, a no-thank-you to a second date, and a statement that he’ll help where he can. That was the last I heard of him, despite sending him a few updates on my cases.
D’oh! Another flake joins the mounting list of disappointing San Franciscans. Mr. Toddy was neither the expert nor the advisor that he painted himself to be. I discovered him to be extremely material, never satisfied, and rather saccharin. What else I did not realize was that he identifies himself with the camarilla of rich San Franciscans. I have found it just comical when I encounter someone who must surround himself with money (and sugar daddies, perhaps) to feel complete! He was aware that at the time I was pinching pennies, and that was a big deterrent. Gladly so, as far as I was concerned.
This is where I differ from many California natives. I will never use money as an attractor nor as a weapon. I gave generously to tsunami relief efforts, even though I do not yet have my own house or condo in the city. Honestly, I’d rather be a philanthropist with my money than dump six figures into a tiny condo-box just to show it off to friends.
I once thought that for guys and girls still young at heart (in other words, in their twenties), that insecurity was a function of that youth, and most people need an elaborate handiwork of smoke and mirrors to hide it. These restless souls don’t yet understand themselves and aren’t confident enough to display their real being to the rest of a rather unforgiving world. Understandably so, and this superficiality and phoniness is something that would quickly change and dissipate as they mature, right? Well, that’s not necessarily the case – these facades remain with people well into their thirties and even their forties. Compared to some of these walking phantoms, I’m as direct as an anal probe. If you ask me what my greatest fear is, I’ll tell you! (The answer is ants, embarrassingly enough). If you ask me why I didn’t finish college, or how many of my teeth need root canals, or how lucky I feel having a full head of hair and youthful skin, I’ll always tell the truth!
Thirtysomethings and middle-aged folks are supposed to be role models, yet most of them are role-players instead! (Actually, I still play Dungeons and Dragons on occasion). I could say that we run into this in every gay mecca and oasis of the world, but that’s an incomplete thought. It’s true in any social scene, any circle, any workplace, and any culture. So what do you know, it must be just human nature at work again! So I gladly excuse each one of these people in search of themselves (so long as he/she donated money to tsunami relief). But in the case of "Toddy," I have a feeling there’s not going to be much to excuse.
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Snobbery
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by Eric Hochstetler |
posted July 4th, 2005 around 08:14 PM
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This happens to me on occasion. L.A. is notorious for this shit, but you just trash the snob and move on to something better
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Re: San Francisco: An Epicenter of Superficiality
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by anonymous |
posted January 23rd, 2005 around 07:43 AM
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This one is da bomb.. funny how the gossip columns always gets the most attentions.
-love, Fong
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Re: San Francisco: An Epicenter of Superficiality
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by anonymous |
posted January 23rd, 2005 around 02:55 AM
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I think I know this guy- since you changed his name, i cna only guess. The Toddy i know always expected expensive gifts from friends on his birthday. I wouldn't bother, and eventually I wasn't invited anymore. (sob, sniffle, sob)
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Re: San Francisco: An Epicenter of Superficiality
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by anonymous |
posted January 22nd, 2005 around 05:12 AM
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omigod, LOL LOL LOL. Now why do you wait over a year before coming clean about a sour date? Probably because you knew this is irresistable gossip. tooo late. ;)
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