Pocketful of Peens: November 6th 2012

Surprise, surprise. This story involves me being set up with someone. Maybe I shouldn’t accept friends’ offers of getting set up anymore? So far it hasn’t resulted in a happy ending. Just head scratching and too many “first date” outfits purchased. But being the hopeless romantic I am, I keep thinking the next one will be different. So far sister, it’s the standard run of the mill horse shit.


I recently met a gal upon my move to a new part of town. She was super sweet and friendly so we went to lunch one day. Through out the lunch, she asked if she could set me up with her friend. She quickly whipped out her phone and offered me some eye candy to accompany my salad. This chap was hot as hell. He resembled my dream lover, Michael Ealy, so of course I was thinking my dreams were coming true. Plus he did marathons and all sorts of healthy crap. Was this lad too good to be true?


This dream lover called me up after collecting my digits and asked me to dinner. I liked that he cut right to the chase, no waiting or games. As we chatted on the phone, I was digging his vibe and grew more excited for the date.


Friday night arrived and of course it was date night! I was happy to have a man friend to take me out on the town. Who knew where the night would take us? We could end up hopping a flight to Vegas in a crazy whirlwind romance. Probably not, but at least I’d have a stiff drink and wear a borderline slutty dress.


He called me when he arrived and I met him on the street. The minute I saw him in person and he opened his mouth, my heart sank. No offense, but he was definitely gayish acting. I am all for the gays- love them so much. But definitely don’t want to date one. This girl wants a straighty.


As I typically have the worst form of word vomit, I almost exclaimed, “Ah hello no…are you gay?” Thank goodness my mind caught up to my big ass mouth and I refrained. I politely greeted him with an awkward, nice-to-meet-ya squeeze and we were off in his ride.


We drove to the restaurant and more telltale signs kept creeping their way into the conversation. Besides his tone and inflection, the subject matter of our conversation was a little gay. He commented on the color of my shoes. Now, any hot blooded hetero would call my shoes beige. This lad commented on my “nude” pumps. How in the world would he know to call them nude unless he’s been flipping through pages of InStyle or Vogue?


If I’m on a date with a guy, he can tell me I look pretty or hot, but don’t be giving me props for being in line with the season’s fashions. I’d rather him tell me he’d like to spank me or something weird like that. At least that way I know a girl could get his schlong hard. I don’t want to go down that road of a gay love affair. He then went on to inform me he loves a girl who wears dresses and gets her hair and nails done. No offense but I don’t want to be competing with my boyfriend to be the most fashionable. It’s a given that the girl should be the clothes horse.


As this date continued, I kept thinking I’d love it if this guy would just come out and we could be the best of friends. Unfortunately, the homosexual jig is just not up. So many times through out the date I kept wanting to say, “are you sure there’s nothing you want to tell me?” Luckily, I bit my tongue and kept the drinks a comin’. As the date concluded I wanted to say, “this was so much fun but I never want to do it again.” Instead I opted for another hug and offered him one more peak at my patent leather nude pumps. At least he liked my outfit.


He asked me for another date but I was conveniently busy. I guess I was kind of rude in this situation by not being direct. Maybe I didn’t have to come out and say I thought he was gay and that’s why I didn’t want to waste time on another date. But I could have been honest and said I’d like it if we were friends. This really got me thinking about how people perceive each other on blind dates. It also reiterated the idea that first impressions stick like crazy glue. Even if we had a steamy night of back-breaking sex, I still would have been incepted by his gay-like mannerisms. First impressions are nearly impossible to break, so I knew this potential relationship was a goner before I sat my bum in his car. Perhaps this guy is the horniest heterosexual that ever lived. His gestures, dress and talk fooled the hell out of me though. Regardless of his sexual preference, he was hot and kind. Unfortunately, I don’t think he wanted to rip my clothes off. Too bad, we would have had beautiful little Michael Ealy-looking babies.