There are several disadvantages to being a gay man. To list a few, you have to shave below the waste, tip forty percent at restaurants, and dress down in Select southern states and African countries to avoid certain death. But by far, the most devastating part about being a gay man is… being sexually attracted to men.
At Rugged Fox, there is no question my creative fire has long been fueled by the modern-day tragedy that has become my love life. This blog was born out of heartbreak. I started writing four months after I packed the backseat of my first love’s car and watched him drive out of my life. Since then it has been soaked in gin and kept alive by copious amounts of coffee and red wine. Now, almost two years later, I have reached a point in my life (some may say I have matured) where men are no longer the only reason I dress exceptionally well in the morning and buy spare toothbrushes at the supermarket each week.
Returning back to the massive train wreck that I call my romantic history, it brings me great satisfaction to say that, after all those first-dates I embarked upon I may have learned a thing or two. Looking back now, I like to think that each emotionally-stunted male I shared a pint of beer, glass of wine, and cup of coffee with, taught me something about myself in their own respect. Allow me to provide you with a quick recap as to what my education on the subject has been.
Nate, the prince, taught me that looks aren’t everything in a man – a lesson that is easier to understand than it is to actually learn. I remember the excitement I first felt when I downloaded each one of his smoking-hot profile pictures. Each jpeg featured him without a shirt and/or pants on, and prior to our date, judging from his body alone, I was convinced he was far out of my league. When I finally sat down with him in person, I realized that his self-esteem was zero and the only question he could think of to ask me, was whether or not I thought he was fat. Bottom line is there are tons of pretty boys in this world. Tons! If you want to date a body then by all means go ahead, except if you are looking for something else, chances are you will not find it by clicking on the profile picture that is chiseled.
Matthew, the guy who stood me up, taught me that trust is something that should not be granted, but rather earned. In his late twenties, baby-faced Matthew was great on paper and in person. He was completing a Master’s degree with a double-major at UBC while working in a lab and testing out each new hot restaurant as it opened up. He was the kind of guy you’d want to bring home to your parents if it were not for one major detail, he was a toe-tapper. Having left me a complete gentleman on our first date, he returned via text later that night to reveal he was a maniacal sex addict. It was actually in my best interests he stood-me up for our second-date: a fact I always knew but never would admit. Matthew is exactly the kind of guy who will be elected to office one day, win the hearts of everyone around him, and then be busted in one of the dirtiest gay-sex scandals you ever seen.
Knight, the 19-year old Brazilian you helped me pick an outfit to wear on our movie date, taught me that timing is everything, and sometimes it’s just not right. The only relic remaining from Knight’s shining armour still hangs in my closet, and is the black hoodie he lent me to warm-up one cool fall night we walked around the town. Although he may have been young in age, Knight was well beyond his years: he looked after his little brother and helped out with his mother while working a full-time job and going to school at night. The thing I will always remember about him was that, without fail, each night after our date he’d always walk me to my bus stop and then sit with me until the number seventeen came. After dating just over a month, one day Knight simply stopped returning my calls. To this day I am still not sure why, but as I’ve learned, it’s always better never to ask. Knight returned my faith that even though they are hard to find, good men are still out in the world. It’s just that sometimes once you do find them, the timing just isn’t right.
Chaucer, the angry post that got deleted, taught me that girth is more fun to gossip about with your girlfriends than to experience in actual life. I will leave it at that.
In conclusion, I have decided to lean off the internet as my main link to finding a husband. When it comes right down to it, you can never know a person by their profile description or picture – you have to hear them, sense them, and breathe them. In my offline life, I have decided to be more aggressive (in a good way) when it comes to meeting man – meaning I am going to try my darndest to be the first one to strike up the conversation rather than shy away from it. In the meantime, I am going to start enjoying life rather than constantly chasing after it.