New appetite suppressant:
Toggling through People You May Know on Facebook and taking note of the ever-increasing quantity of obscenely ripped gay boiiiz between whom my degrees of separation continue to shrink.
Trust me. It totally werrrqs.
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You know how everyone else knows I’m gay, now? 1:7
One minute I’m updating my Facebook profile to share the status of my plight for pre-sale Kylie Minogue tickets:
And the next, openly gay Hollywood film director, producer, and luster of twinks – Bryan Singer – is a suggested friend!
Alright, okay. 32 minutes later. But still –
GAY.
Take it all, betch.
“I’m looking at pictures of you from 2006,” my friend Kirstie messaged me on Facebook chat, a couple months ago.
“Yikes!” I began to disclaim. “I was a soggy mess of baby fat and bad haircuts.”
“Well, why do you still have them up?” She seemed boggled – and to concur.
“Because if you don’t like me for how I used to look, you sure as fuck don’t deserve the hot piece of ass that I am now.”
Un – uh, boiz. Quality control. In front of my heart, amongst my most recently posted photos, stands a sentinel:
And her name is Roz, the lesbian art teacher, as my former roommate and I dubbed this photo the moment after it was captured back in the spring of 2006.
Love her – or leave me.
Uncertainty in numbers.
“Chris,” the boi with a booty as solid and symmetrical as two eight pound bowling balls spoke into his phone, Monday morning. “He drove me.”
I peered at him curiously; pulling on my underwear and plucking my DIY ay-yi-YI-those-are-short cut offs up off of the floor of my bungalow as he wrapped up the call.
“You do know my name isn’t Chris, right?” I smirked, but the question was legitimate.
“Yes –” he paused, grinning teasingly, “JJ. He was asking about yesterday afternoon.”
“Just checking,” I laughed.
One can never be completely sure how much a new lover remembers when you solicit their pro boner services after 3 a.m. Even when the inquiry is made via Facebook chat and, thus, appears in print, below both your first and last name and profile photo.
Especially not when you’re just one of their 1,883 friends – and counting.
Share the effort.
“Should I message him? No! I shouldn’t. Should I? Ugh,” I dropped my head into my hands, last Monday, as I waited for my friend Liana’s advice on how to move forward after a weekend of particularly lackluster textual responses from one of my latest crushes.
“It is so weird to see you falter,” she shook her head in dismay. “You never falter.”
“It’s just with men. I hate it. IFUCKINGHATEIT!…No, I love it. Oh Gawd,” I began to cackle deliriously. “AHHH! Wha’doIdo?”
“Let him come to you,” she chuckled. “It’s like when I was a kid and my mom told me to do the dishes just as I was about to do them. I’d already planned on it, but then I would get annoyed that she hadn’t given me a chance and I would no longer want to do them.”
“Hmm…” I frowned. “Well, I never want to do any kind of housework, but I guess I see your point.”
“I think the safest and most growing experience for you right now is to allow him the capacity to do them on his own,” Liana continued in her role as Grasshoppah. “Doing them for him or reminding him to do them is just going to set up your entire relationship on a foundation where he’s not learning and not allowed to grow himself.”
As usual, she’s right. Love should never be a chore, but it does take work – on both ends. If I, if any man or woman should ever want to get to a point where we share more than a sexual connection with another person, then we need to learn to be patient and strive for balance.
When applied, this realization is extraordinarily freeing. In worrying less about the degree to which those with whom we are smitten return the favor, we are allowed to take more time to remember what we like about ourselves. So long as this increased self-awareness promotes confidence, not arrogance, it will only serve to further draw in those we desire.
Plus, you know, when we put a personal limit on the number of hours spent cycling through each and EVERY one of their Facebook photo albums, we might finally find some time to do the actual dishes.
