This question is a follow-up for a short-lived thread I did called "The Strays." It was based off of a men's magazine article talking about a subclass of straight men that really are heterosexual, but keep getting pegged for gay or otherwise unavailable. The article tried to show that this middle-road group of guys has more similarities to their standard issue straight brethren, but it didn't really offer much more than that.
I have a story to share from last night.
Thursday nights in Tucson, it's typical to head down to 4th Avenue and hop a couple of bars for some cheap drink specials before heading to Club Congress. After 10:00pm there, you can get in without cover if you show a CC card available from their Myspace page.
It was 9:00 or so, and I met a colleague for a few beers as planned. We ended up joining a group of guys studying the Mars Landing at UA. Don't know for sure if they were actual scientists or assistants or whatever, but we all crowded around. I'd say there were maybe six guys and two ladies. Prior to meeting at the lounge, the group attended a wine tasting and were pretty well lit to various degrees, especially the more talkative one of two girls.
Her name was Tracy, and as intoxicated as she was, she was very affectionate, too, which I thought was pretty cool. "Tell me about you," she said, leaning in and rubbing the stubble on my face. I laughed a little. I just said some basics about beinig a UA student, studying sociology, and just arriving in town last week. We talked about volleyball (which she hates to play because she's self-consciously bad at it), and I said that I couldn't draw (she's a graphic designer) but that I would try it for the hell of it. We talked about writing and politics, too. So, confident that she was worth hanging around once the beer goggles lifted, we swapped phone numbers. (She was the first of three numbers I got that night, score me.)
Before heading to the next stop, she said rather brazenly that she found me sexy and that that was a shame. Why? She tried arguing with me that I'm gay. I thought I heard wrong, then I laughed about it, then we were kinda going back and forth on it.
I called my colleague. "Hey!" I barked. "You were there. Who's pussy did I eat for half an hour a few days ago?" He nodded in the affirmative.
I guess you can't really argue with a drunk person any more substantively than that. Her, might I add, much cuter, better articulate, still in my phone roommate (who said she felt uncomfortable about men buying rounds of drinks repeatedly for fear of expecting sex) wanted us to tag along at Plush, but after that, I didn't feel like going. Needless to say, went to the Club and dealt with a woman who, quite as thoroughly annoying to hang with, didn't put my sexuality under the crosshairs.
My grief is this, ladies. What the hell? I mean, I don't think I have it in me to grow stray body hair, dress poorly, and treat women like shit. I'll check out your boobs and ass, but I'll look you in the face if you want to talk to me. I think I look okay. I think I appear metrosexual, but you can't exactly reverse a sense of style. Believe me. I didn't have one for a long time, and it didn't look good at all. Dressing nicer and caring for my appearance when I'm in the mood has done much good for my self-confidence. I know women appreciate confident men, but in reading Norah Vincent's Self Made Man, I have to agree that, maybe, women want a complex arrangement of sometimes conflict attributes in men that maybe we can't simultaneously live up to at the same time.
Being kept, being buff, being strong, being vulnerable, being honest, being coarse, being rude, being polite, being ourselves, being what you want.
Never mind that we have to dog what we can. It's the guys like me who try to put themselves out there that get shot down because, above anything else, I'm not convincing enough.
Never mind, I was a bit pissed about this as the night went on. And having slept on it, obviously I'm bringing it here since it's not good fodder to jack off to.
What are your thoughts?
I have a story to share from last night.
Thursday nights in Tucson, it's typical to head down to 4th Avenue and hop a couple of bars for some cheap drink specials before heading to Club Congress. After 10:00pm there, you can get in without cover if you show a CC card available from their Myspace page.
It was 9:00 or so, and I met a colleague for a few beers as planned. We ended up joining a group of guys studying the Mars Landing at UA. Don't know for sure if they were actual scientists or assistants or whatever, but we all crowded around. I'd say there were maybe six guys and two ladies. Prior to meeting at the lounge, the group attended a wine tasting and were pretty well lit to various degrees, especially the more talkative one of two girls.
Her name was Tracy, and as intoxicated as she was, she was very affectionate, too, which I thought was pretty cool. "Tell me about you," she said, leaning in and rubbing the stubble on my face. I laughed a little. I just said some basics about beinig a UA student, studying sociology, and just arriving in town last week. We talked about volleyball (which she hates to play because she's self-consciously bad at it), and I said that I couldn't draw (she's a graphic designer) but that I would try it for the hell of it. We talked about writing and politics, too. So, confident that she was worth hanging around once the beer goggles lifted, we swapped phone numbers. (She was the first of three numbers I got that night, score me.)
Before heading to the next stop, she said rather brazenly that she found me sexy and that that was a shame. Why? She tried arguing with me that I'm gay. I thought I heard wrong, then I laughed about it, then we were kinda going back and forth on it.
I called my colleague. "Hey!" I barked. "You were there. Who's pussy did I eat for half an hour a few days ago?" He nodded in the affirmative.
I guess you can't really argue with a drunk person any more substantively than that. Her, might I add, much cuter, better articulate, still in my phone roommate (who said she felt uncomfortable about men buying rounds of drinks repeatedly for fear of expecting sex) wanted us to tag along at Plush, but after that, I didn't feel like going. Needless to say, went to the Club and dealt with a woman who, quite as thoroughly annoying to hang with, didn't put my sexuality under the crosshairs.
My grief is this, ladies. What the hell? I mean, I don't think I have it in me to grow stray body hair, dress poorly, and treat women like shit. I'll check out your boobs and ass, but I'll look you in the face if you want to talk to me. I think I look okay. I think I appear metrosexual, but you can't exactly reverse a sense of style. Believe me. I didn't have one for a long time, and it didn't look good at all. Dressing nicer and caring for my appearance when I'm in the mood has done much good for my self-confidence. I know women appreciate confident men, but in reading Norah Vincent's Self Made Man, I have to agree that, maybe, women want a complex arrangement of sometimes conflict attributes in men that maybe we can't simultaneously live up to at the same time.
Being kept, being buff, being strong, being vulnerable, being honest, being coarse, being rude, being polite, being ourselves, being what you want.
Never mind that we have to dog what we can. It's the guys like me who try to put themselves out there that get shot down because, above anything else, I'm not convincing enough.
Never mind, I was a bit pissed about this as the night went on. And having slept on it, obviously I'm bringing it here since it's not good fodder to jack off to.
What are your thoughts?
