Run-Away Date

Run-Away Date

I met up with Wanda in Covent Garden. It had been ages since we’ve been out together hunting men.

We went to pub Punch and Judy’s and found ourselves surrounded by hot Dutch guys. One of the hot guys asked if he could have a napkin from our table. We weren’t sure if that was his way of opening the conversation between us, or if he simply wanted a napkin. Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.

We both had a couple drinks. We recorded a podcast and we admired the hot guys next to us.

As the pub closing a tall blond dude named Christian offered to buy me a drink. His accent sounded German or Scandinavian. I couldn’t place it.”

“Where are you from?” I asked.

“Liverpool.”

“Huh?”

“Liverpool.”

“You’re not foreign?”

“No.”

“No worries about the drink.”

I know it’s snobby but somehow he was less interesting since he wasn’t foreign. Wanda and I left the pub. We walked past the Gardening Club and pondered going in there, but since I’m jobless and on the fast train to poverty, we decided not to spend the 12 quid.

As we were walking to the tube all of a sudden I heard my name being called.

It was Christian. He wanted to chat to me. I didn’t want to leave Wanda in order to talk to him. And if came down to choosing between Wanda and the guy, I’d choose Wanda. Friends have to stick together, right?

So Wanda gives me a look that says, “He’s cute go for him.” She makes a polite excuse and then goes home.

Christian and I go into a pub. The bar was closed we go across the street to another pub that has a sizable queue. I hate queing, but I love nights that are random. I figure go with the flow.

It turns out that Christian is a property developer living in Notting Hill. His stats so far are impressive. I wondered how the night would go.

We queue for about twenty minutes. We get to the front of the queue and are led inside. Christian pulls out his wallet to pay then suddenly he turns around and runs out of the club.

No explanation. No nothing. I thought maybe he went outside to ask the doorman a question but then I see him running across the street.

So I’m standing in club like an idiot. My date just ran out on me. What the fuck?

I Don’t Fuck Men who Fuck Men

I Don’t Fuck Men who Fuck Men

Everyone needs standards and this is my new one. Not that I’ve ever fucked a man who fucks other men (to the best of my knowledge) but there comes a time in your life when you realize there are some things that you can’t be cool with. And that is my limit.

I met a dude on Craig’s List from Lichtenstein. I don’t know much about Lichtenstein but I already like the place. It’s small unobtrusive and damn cool to say. Just say, “Lichtenstein” a few times.

He was in his late 30’s and was an investment banker. He looked relatively normal in his photo and I was intrigued even more after a 20 minute phone conversation in which he told me about Lichtenstein.

We went out for sushi a couple days ago. I thought I spotted a wedding ring on his hand, but I initially ignored it.

As we ate the fantastic sushi dinner he revealed that he was married and had a 12 year old daughter. When he told me that in my head I thought, “Not interested. It’s over.” But I carried on pretending to be interested. Hell, I even ordered dessert.

As we were sitting at table his phone rang.

“Your wife?” I joked.

He declined the call and smiled coyly. “Oh, you’ll never guess,” he said.

“Your butcher, your baker, your candlestick maker,” I said, fairly uninterested yet somewhat curious.

“No,” he laughed.

“Right. Then who?”

“Well,” he said, taking a deep breath. “I am really into transsexuals.”

“Oh cool,” I said as if I were hardly bothered.

But in my head I was saying, “JESUS FUCKING CHRIST! ARE THERE NO ‘NORMAL’ MEN IN LONDON? I’ve already had a tranny. I don’t want a tranny-lover.”

Lichtenstein dude went on to explain that he only likes the very feminine looking trannies. Oh, well THAT makes it okay!
And even though he’s from a quiet village in Lichtenstein and has polite Austrian wife and normal 12-year-old daughter, for the past 5 years on his business trips out of town he’s been fucking and getting fucked by chicks with dicks.

Hey, whatever floats your boat, but not on my watch. That’s where I draw the line.

I was terribly polite the rest of the evening but I thought. “There is NO WAY in HELL I’m sleeping with him.”

I don’t fuck guys who fuck other guys. End of.