Well- double dose of the homo tonight (cuz I'm ridiculously bored and have nothing else to do).

So let's talk about gay men.

Listening queens?

WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH GAY MEN?

How can they be a woman's best friend and other gay men's worst nightmare?

I do not understand gay men. And maybe it's because I am going after the worst of the liter but they totally fucken confuse me.

See, I consider myself a masculine guy. I like other masculine gay guys. I have nothing against more effeminate men- I just don't want to date them. However, it seems that every guy I go after has got some serious issues. Let's take for example my recent foray into online dating (and let me exemplify why I hate online dating).

I met this VERY hot and VERY cool guy on Gay.com. Let's name him....Penis. So Penis was nice, sweet and seemingly romantic. He looked like he had a great body, a heart-warming smile and an ass that wouldn't quit. So we spoke and spoke and spoke (against my better instincts) for over 2 weeks, exclusively online. From my past experiences with online dating, I knew it was a bad idea to draw these things out without getting a phone convo in there quickly. However, Penis was hot, seemingly nice and everytime I brought up a phone convo, it did seem like he had a reasonable excuse to evade it.

"I'm sick."

"I'm sick."

"I'm sick."

Ok- maybe not so reasonable. But I've been so abstinent from the dating scene that I was willing to accept the procastination. Being a socially anxious schmuck myself, I'm willing to accept the fact that some people need more time to get comfortable with transitioning the online gig to reality. However, I strongly recommend that you push that along as quickly as possible, or dump 'em. Why so cold and brash?

My dream boy disappeared in mid-conversation during the weekend. Now, I'm a realist. I realize that sometimes people have had enough of other people, online and off, and don't always end it cordially. However, we were in the middle of a conversation saying how much "we" adore each other. If there was ever chemistry ablaze online, it was between us two. So pretending that he just didn't think that my personality sucks after 2 weeks of constant chit chat (maybe he did, but let's give me a break for conversation's sake), I think the real problem is that he was closeted. Extremely closeted. Dread-filled and self-hating, this putz must've had his mummy walk into the room or something along those lines and shut the shit down.

I have become a bitter, jaded person. Whether it be New York or my inability to always cope with the constant drama of gay life, I'm not who I want to be. I'm stressed out, tired and in need of some TLC. I haven't found a single person willing to give it to me.

Am I overreacting? Probably. But I need someone to hold me- I need someone to love. I'm only 24 but I know what I want. I want love, I want someone to care for and care for me and I need it now.

This city may be the mecca for gay men, but it's also a mecca for casual sex, body worship and lack of intimacy. It's a city filled with materialism and superficiality. It festers bitterness, and I'm just trying not to lose hope here.

Have I been out there enough? No, I haven't. Maybe it's just the fear of solitude that upsets me, but I don't want to be alone. I think sometimes, I'm just afraid to be.

I hate holidays.

Unless you're old (and lucky) enough to have family and friends to share the holiday with, or young enough to be absorbed into your parents' family and friends, Memorial Day (along with most other holidays) suck.

Hello- I'm the bastard son of the New York gay scene. Pessimistic, shallow and self-absorbed. Ugh, I hate when I get like this.

Well a little about me perhaps? Sure- thanks for asking.

Hmm- well I'm 24 and gay in da big apple. New York is probably one of the best cities to be gay in, though I really need to get my ass moved to Chelsea so I can get the full homo-intensive experience for at least 1 year. See, New York is the gay mecca, for better or worse. Now I'm not one of those self-hating fags (I hate this word, but it seems to fit here) that hates all gay men, gay culture, gay fruit flies and the such. No- I'm actually an optimist. I would hate to see the truly negative queens roaming the streets. Talk about self-hating.

Anyways, I also think I suffer from the wonderful world of social anxiety. Yup, I am socially anxious. Joy. I never actually realized this until I had to stop drinking from a mono hang-over. For those of you who don't know what mono is, it's when your throat swells up, you can barely speak or swallow, you become thoroughly exhausted for weeks on end (we're talking constant sleep here), and your liver enzyme levels rise like the f'n Mississippi. It's the final piece of the puzzle that plagues my social life as of late. See, high liver enzymes=no alcohol. No alcohol=no social life (unless you can do without alcohol. In which case, fuck you Mr./Mrs. Perfect).

So it's this lack of alcohol that brought about my discovery that I get extremely nervous in social situations. See, while I was in high school, I accepted the fact that I didn't have many friends. I was immature and just thought I was shy. On top of the fact that I was a gay in the making, I just thought "College will end that." And it did. I had a ton of friends in college, joined a frat and made some gay friends along the way too. However, I never really noticed that alcohol was a key component of socializing in college (duh). As such, I never really had to interact with mass quantities of people sober. When I did, I wasn't all that talkative. But in college, who gives 2 shits? More often than not, you're drunk anyways.

So come this dry period I realized - "Uh oh, what the fuck is this? Sweaty palms, light-headedness, upset stomach"... **Sigh**. Yup- social anxiety. And compounded by the fact that my work is as anti-social as can be and quite stressful, it's gotten pretty bad pretty quickly. Usually I have my weekly drunken outlet to get rid of my syndrome of solitude in the workplace. No more. No outlet, no people and no social coping skills. Instead I have the wonderful task of trying to figure this out with a therapist who only knows how to tell me that I'm very good-looking ("Quite smashing" were her exact words). Not that I don't mind the compliment- who does? It's the fact that I don't pay 150 bones per hour to hear that. I can go on gay.com and have 50 year olds offering me $40 tip to blow me to realize that I guess I look ok. However, I could use some help here. :(

So that's the status of my life. In the future, don't expect to hear about my career. Business is business and personal is personal, and since I do have to pay my bills, I don't feel like incurring the wrath of every bigot by revealing my identity through narratives about my stress-filled workdays. Who knows though- maybe I'll open up in the future.

FYI- guess who goes to the doctor tomorrow to see if his liver enzymes went down?

It's ME, it's ME.

And guess who finds out if he can start drinking again?

It's ME, it's ME.

And who needs to hit the gym to get rid of my first noticeable pudge ever?

Yup- it's me. It's me.

Night night kiddies.