DESPERATE GAYS. Angry gays. Latent gays. They all came out of the woodwork this month looking for a healthy dose of therapeutic advice. Who am I not to deliver? As always, letters have been edited for brevity and clarity, but not for sensitivity.
As a gay male in the dating scene, it can be quite an arduous task to find that special someone you click with. Gay men are generally more interested in the tightness of your abs and what brand of jeans your tight little bum is squeezed into. I'm at the point where I'm just so tired of dating losers. I recently took a proactive step in my life and signed up for Match.com. Jeannie, I have been on at least 10 first dates. Not one of them was suitable. They were too boring or too prudish or too dorky. I just couldn't win. I've started to think that it's me. I've gone on dates where guys have told me that they don't dig my "negative vibe." This came from a Disney World-fleece-wearing 24-year-old, mind you. I don't know what has happened to that sort of fabulousness I once possessed, but it's gone. Perhaps we should just resign ourselves to a life of simple spinsterhood, sitting in our living rooms eating frosting out of the container while our litter of cats parade across our trash-strewn homes.
Negative Nancy
Dear Negative Nancy,
I don't know who these bright-siders are that you're hanging around with. Negative is the new black. Don't let anyone tell you that your pessimistic and gloomy outlook on this shithole we call a world is even one bit bad. You just need to sit tight and wait for the perfect abuse survivor to come your way. Then you two can live in perfect masochistic misery together.
Maybe I should know such things, but aren't there still A-cup bras too? How do you think your column is making those women feel? I sure hope you're wrong about no more real-breasted women in the future. I not only prefer a real breast, I demand it - I wouldn't date fake! And I actually prefer B/A to C or D - though a female friend was once convinced I had to be gay to prefer a smaller-than-average breast. (F her, I haven't spoken to her in years.)
Small Demands
Dear Small Demands,
I am those women to which you refer - the A/barely-B-cupped fading minority. Having recently returned from Israel, I thought for sure I had unearthed the Natural Titty Holy Land. Hell, they even have lingerie stores called "C-Cup & Up." But my hopes were dashed when the women revealed that the majority of those plump breasts are, in fact, fake. Compared with Americans, at least they have an excuse. In a positive development for the "war on terror," one Israeli woman's life was recently spared when shrapnel from a Hezbollah rocket lodged in her implant. No joke. Good thing Bush is on his way out or implants might've become a national security measure.
What happens when you're over 30 and all your friends are married, and some with kids, and you don't want to hear about the family all the time? I start talking about the cool club I went to last night, and they talk about how many months little LucyLou is. There should be a [club] that I can join that has weekly meetings with burnt coffee and stale doughnuts. "Hello, my name is Bob, and I have been alone for almost eight months." "HELLO BOB!" Clap clap clap. What is funny is that I work for an online dating company creating Web designs to get people to sign up. I do banners of people in love and cute girls that I will never meet just to get lonely people to sign up. I also get to do some sweet tag lines, like "Happiness is easy to find!" It's very funny, but hard to do being single.
Dysfunctional Designer
Dear Dysfunctional Designer,
Please let me have your job for just one day. Think of all the havoc you could wreak on desperate singles everywhere with your uncensored honesty. Banners could read "Fat and busted since that 1978 photo" and "Happiness is an elusive joke." If you're going to be single at this point in your life, you might as well enjoy destroying the hopes of other optimistic fools out there. At least that way you know you're adding to your pool of prospects.
I had to write to tell you how much I enjoyed your latest musings [on sex lingo]. I feel you left out a couple of important ones like "Map of Hawaii" and "Pearl Necklace." I will let you figure out what they are.
Lascivious Linguist
Dear Lascivious Linguist,
Even though I've never worn one, I thought the "Pearl Necklace" so widely known that it didn't need explaining. The "Map of Hawaii," however, is a new one to me. According to the Urban Dictionary, it's "a pattern of semen deposited on the body (especially a featureless, fairly flat part of the body, like the back or stomach) of a sex partner. Named because the drops of semen appear in a chain like the Hawaiian islands." My God, I feel so stupid. All these years I've been writhing in excitement and begging for the "Caribbean." Thanks for schooling me.
I was intrigued and amused by your ["Grin and bear it"] column in Stuff@night [8.14.07]. It brought back memories of when my partner and myself unknowingly booked several nights in Provincetown during Women's Week. I suspect you'll agree that the situation with political correctness has gotten way out of hand. We can no longer acknowledge rampant stereotypical behavior. God knows, I'm a gay man who loves opera, Broadway musicals, Judy Garland, Martha Stewart, fashion, and cooking, and I keep an immaculate home. Imagine our surprise to find Commercial Street teeming with obese women in tight clothing with butts that would give an IMAX screen a run for its money. We were as horrified and amused as you were during Bear Week. I suspect that if I wrote a column reporting on these observations, I would be chastised by the lesbian community and forced into a diversity-training program. I'm just somewhat surprised at your insensitivity when a large faction of your community can be observed in the same light.
Bad News Bear
Dear Bad News Bear,
Clearly you've just now stumbled upon my column. Over the years, I've done my duty as an equal-opportunity offender - and have the death threats to prove it. If it weren't for the popularity of the fat lesbian, I'd still be making potshots at white Republican males. @
Jeannie Greeley is a freelance writer hard at work fortifying her bulletproof cubicle. Anthrax-free letters can be mailed to jeannieg@comcast.net.
[Illustration by Corey Smigliani]
