ThursDATE: Don’t Compliment Me

by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

Him:  This is pretty nice.

Me:  What?  This apartment?

Him:  Yeah.  It’s pretty nice.

Me:  Oh.  Jeez.  It’s small, and it’s in a building that was built before World War II, but thanks.

Him:  Still.  By New York standards…

Me:  You’re right.  Anywhere else in the country, this would be meh, but in New York it’s a palace.

Him:  Let’s not go that far.

(Pause)

Me:  I can’t believe you’re here.

Him:  Why not?

Me:  I didn’t think you liked me, when I was flirting with you at Metro.

Him:  Really?  I couldn’t tell if you were flirting or not.

Me:  REALLY?  I thought I was laying it on thick.  I had my arm around you, and it was 200 degrees out.

Him:  Yeah, but you kept touching everyone.

Me:  Awcrap.  Yeah, I’m a Jerk that way.  I have to make sure everyone knows I like them.  Plus it was a lot of my friends there and I like making connections and introducing people, etc.

Him:  Yeah.  You were really working on that crowd.

Me:  I have my moments.  But seriously – you couldn’t tell I was flirting with you, hard?

Him:  Maybe.  I’m not used to people flirting with me.

Me:  Really?  You’re extremely pretty.

Him:  Don’t.  I don’t like that.

Me:  Compliments?

Him:  I don’t want to be called pretty.  Why can’t you say that I’m hot?

Me:  You are hot.  And handsome.  And pretty.

Him:  That’s okay.  I can be pretty sometimes, but sometimes I get to be handsome too, okay?

Me:  Okay.  That’s easy ’cause it’s true.

Him:  You’re weird.

Me:  Tell me something I don’t know.  My family’s been saying that for years.

(Pause.  I look at him.  He’s pretty.  I suppress the urge to say so.)

Me:  Well…  I mean…  I had to move all those people all the way across the bar in order to stand next to you.  Then I had to think of a lame reason to start talking to you.  Then for some odd reason I put my arm around you even though it was the hottest day ever = I was definitely flirting with you.  Plus your friend was giving me the stink eye.

Him:  He’s really protective of me.  Sorry.  I don’t get people flirting with me much.

Me:  That’s hard to believe.  You’re super pretty, er, good looking.  Maybe you’re going to the wrong places.  Seems like Metro is a good place to go if you’re an art fag who wants to roll his eyes at other art fags and judge everyone for not being cool enough.

Him:  It’s not like that when you’re Asian and gay.  People don’t flirt with you.

Me:  Not true.  I’m flirting with you RIGHT NOW.

Him:  Yes, but we already established that you’re weird and not the normal type of Gay.

Me:  Thank god.

Him:  Thank god. 

Me:  Just kidding.  There’s no god.

(Pause.  He eyes me, suspiciously.)

Him:  But most people who flirt with me are much older and want me to put on high heels and panty hose.

Me:  Ha.  I wait until the third date to ask people to do that.

(Pause)

Him:  I hope you’re joking.

(Pause.  I consider telling him I’m joking, but then I think it might be funny if I just say nothing.  It’s not.  It’s just awkward.)

Him:  Anyway.  No.  People don’t flirt much.

Me:  I find that odd because you’re very attractive and smart and your butt is wow.

Him:  Gays are awful to Asians.  You’re full of compliments, aren’t you?

Me:  Yes.  I’m doing it on purpose.  When I’m on a date I try to find things that are true and positive to say about the other person.  It’s called ‘dating.’

Him:  Are we?  Is this a date?

Me:  I dunno.  Maybe we’re just sitting on my couch and I’ve got this Lost in the Trees Pandora station on for no reason.  That’s a nice tattoo.

Him:  You’re doing it again.

Me:  I am?

Him:  Compliments.  I don’t do that.  You shouldn’t do that too much.

Me:  I shouldn’t?

Him:  People take advantage.  You can’t show them your good side at first.  You have to show them that you’re tough, or they’ll take advantage.

Me:  They will?  Are you sure?

Him:  I’ve had a hard life.  Things have been tough.

Me:  You seem a little angry.

(Pause)

Me:  I know what you mean, I think.  People act like assholes a lot.  But you can still be nice to strangers.  Sometimes it leads to amazing places.

Him:  I’m not sure I believe that.  I’m glad you think that though.  Life hasn’t been kind to me.

Me:  I’ve been through rough patches too, kiddo.  But we have to make the best of what’s in front of us.  Do you think I’m good looking?

Him:  Duh.  I’m here aren’t I?

Me:  I’m flattered.  Maybe we should take our clothes off and have crazy Gay sex?

Him:  Nice try.  Maybe we should keep our underwear on and cuddle until we fall asleep.

Me:  I’ll take it.  Maybe next time we have a date we’ll have sex?

Him:  Maybe you’ll wait until I’m ready.  Jerk.

(Maybe I will!)

Ancient Chinese Secret

by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

Hey

So, I’ve been reading your blog… and am left with so many questions… it’s kind of like I feel after reality TV… like the bachelor…

1. do you have sex with everyone you invite back to the fantasy suite to make pies or is that just for the camera? What’s real and what’s not? 🙂

2. Who’s the third person taking pics? And does it turn you on to have someone watch?

3. what do you like about Asian men? aren’t they usually kinda effeminate with small willys… or maybe you like that… Just curious. Of course, normally this would be none of my business, but I’m a fan, so I guess I feel a little entitled.

Anyway keep “Baking Sweet Love” and I’ll keep reading… and if you use that tag line make sure you credit me… actually you don’t have to do that… it’s all yours… just bake/name a pie after me and eat every delectable crumb with your next concubine… actually eat it off your next conquest and put it in your blog.

J.S.

Hey J. S.

I was conflicted about whether or not to answer this letter. I didn’t know whether or not to give credence to this progression of ideas you set forth.  I decided to address it.

I hope you know I appreciate your reading, but you said some stupid shit, and I’m gonna go off on it. Okay?

1. do you have sex with everyone you invite back to the fantasy suite to make pies or is that just for the camera? What’s real and what’s not? 🙂

It’s not a fantasy suite, but that’s flattering.  It’s a kitchen in a pre-war apartment building in Brooklyn.  As for the guys, no.   I don’t have sex with all of them.  And no, I won’t say which.  I like my blog to be slightly mysterious, like LOST, but instead of a polar bear there’s rhubarb.

However, this I can assure you: they ARE all real.  None of them are cylons.

Probably.

2. Who’s the third person taking pics? And does it turn you on to have someone watch?

Different people.  Friends of mine, or occasionally professional photographers.  Depends.  Sometimes me and the baking assistant just photograph each other.  Does it turn me on?  Depends on who’s behind the camera, I guess?  There’s an element of voyeurism, for sure.

3. what do you like about Asian men? aren’t they usually kinda effeminate with small willys… or maybe you like that… Just curious. Of course, normally this would be none of my business, but I’m a fan, so I guess I feel a little entitled.

No.

It’s obvious you feel a LOT entitled.

Are you drunk?  Why would you ask me that?   It’s obvious, I assume, that I am both very respectful of and attracted to Asian men?  Why, in 2011, would you propagate such a ridiculous stereotype? Seriously.  You sound like my grandpa.

Effeminate?  Small Willies?  Come on.  You’re talking about BILLIONS of the world’s population.  You sound foolish.

Do you have some sort of late-80’s early-90’s idea of homosexuality?  That there’s some Gay hierarchy where masculine, uber hung, over worked out white and (light skinned) Latino guys sit at the top?  Get over it, dude.  Times are changing, and they’re changing faster than Whitey wants to admit.

I’ve met guys like you before.  You think it’s ultra post modern to say shit like this in Gay bars or at parties.  You don’t see why people sometimes take offense.  You think the world is too uptight and you ‘don’t see why people can’t just loosen up.’

You’re almost certainly white.

You’re being insensitive.  Extremely.  Racist, even.

It’s okay.  It’s not you.  It’s the world you grew up in.  But, I know you know that’s not the right way to be.  So knock it off, okay?  It hurts people’s feelings.   Think about it.  You don’t want to live in a world where it’s okay to say racist crap to strangers, do you?  Don’t be that guy.  Please?

It might be hard, but you can reprogram yourself.  You can stop thinking about people in such a small scope.  It’s scary, but once you start doing it, the world really opens up.

Here’s the good news:

There is an Asian out there for you. Really. There’s a masculine, big dicked Chinese dude out there who’s just as much of a douche as you are.  Stop! Don’t argue!  There is. I just know it.  He’s doing the PX90 workout right now, dreaming of the day he meets you and screws the daylights out of you.  The two of you will pull a rickshaw off into the sunset. He will tell you his Ancient Chinese Secret.

But, yeah, you shouldn’t say that kind of crap in an email.    Makes you look like a stupid fool.  And you’re not a stupid fool, are you?  Well of course you are.  We all are. But don’t be that kind of stupid fool.

Jerk.

SaturDATE: I’ve Already Figured You Out

by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

Sometimes people ask me on dates.  They tend to go horribly.  These are their stories.

(Law and Order Sound Effect)

Him: Come home with me.

Me: No.  Do you think this sweater is too heavy for the springtime?

Him:  Come on.  Come home with me.

Me:  No.  It’s late and you’re drunk and I’m not and I’m tired.

Him:  Come home with me.  We’ve been flirting with each other for a long time now.  Come on.

Me:  No.  9 months is a long time?

Him:  Come on. (hails a cab)  Get in the cab.

Me:  No.  I’m going home.

Him:  Yes.

Me:  Okay fine.

(Montage:  Snuggly cab ride.  Surprised cab driver.  Deli visit for food and beer. Fumbling with keys.)

Him:  Do you want a beer?  I’m having a beer.

Me:  Yes.  I’m going to start drinking at 3 am.  Good idea.

Him:  Great, I’ll open you one.

Me:  No, wait.  I changed my mind.

Him: Fickle.

Me:  More like, sarcastic.

Him:  I like that.

Me:  I like you.

Him: I know.

Me:  Don’t worry.  I don’t get weird.  I let things develop naturally.  We’ll have two kids, one Korean girl named Ellen, and one African boy, named Sh’Africa.

Him:  Sounds like you’re telling Africa to be quiet.

Me:  I’m not.  I like the names Sean and Africa.  Sh’Africa. If anything, I think Africa should be louder.

Him:  Why?

Me: All that suffering?  Isn’t there a lot of suffering and economic inequality?

Him:  I’ve never been.

Me:  Me neither.  I’m operating on what I’ve read in liberal news media and what I’ve seen in movies like Congo.

Him:  Take your coat off.

Me:  Certainly.  I’ll just throw it on the floor here.

Him:  You’re funny.

Me:  You’re pretty.

Him:  Make out with me.

(We do.)

Him:  Take your shirt off.

Me:  Yessir.

(We take our shirts off.  Bitchin’ make out session.)

Him:  Take your pants off.

Me:  Yessir

(We take our pants off.  Bitchin’ make out session.)

Him:  Let’s get naked.

Me:  How dare you.  No, wait.  I changed my mind again.   That’s a great idea.

Him:  Are you a bottom?

Me:  What?  Oh.  Sex?  Oh!  Sex!  Okay.  Yes.  No.  I’m versatile.  I’m the opposite of whatever your favorite thing to do is…

Him:  Then you’re a bottom.

Me:  I am indeed!

(We get naked.  Bitchin’ make out session.  Then, suddenly – he loses interest entirely. The evening goes limp.)

Him:  I was afraid of this.

Me: What?

Him:  I was afraid that this would happen.  My penis stops working after a while.

Me:  No!  Stop it!  It’s okay.  Cut yourself some slack.  You had a lot to drink.  I watched you.

Him:  No.  What?  No.  I don’t have whiskey dick.  Hahaha.  No.

Me:  What?  No, you have six beers and three whiskeys dick.

Him:  I have a thing that happens.  Once I get someone naked and it’s obvious that I can sleep with them, I lose interest.

Me:  Heh.  You’re funny.

Him:  Please don’t make fun of me.  It’s a real problem.

Me:  I was going to say, why don’t we just go to sleep and give it a shot in the morning.

Him:  Ha.  Right.  No.

Me:  What?

Him:  I think you should leave now.

Me:  WHAT?

Him:  It’s like this.  I already got you naked.  You already said you’d give me what I want.  It’s kind of like I’ve already figured you out.  I’m not going to be interested anymore.

Me:  What?  Heh.  Ha.  I uh…  hm…

(He starts putting on clothes.  He starts handing clothes to me.  I start putting on clothes.)

Him:  Yeah.  It’s best if you just go home.

Me:  I’m much farther away from home now than when you talked me into the cab.

Him:  I’ll call you a car.  You should go home.

Me:  No.  I’ll take the train.  I should never have come here.

Him:  Oh stop.  You had fun.

Me:  Yeah it was a blast.  You’re a real great host.  Thanks for having me over.

Him:  It’s a real problem, okay?  I have a problem with sex.  I’d appreciate some sympathy.

Me:  Awww… Sweet baby…  Hey.  I’m going to say something – please don’t take it the wrong way, okay?

Him:  Okay.

Me:  You’re an asshole.  I don’t mean like self-absorbed like me and my comedy friends.  I mean for real.  You’re a real, true, asshole.  I’m going to leave my card.

Him: What is this?

Me:  I want you to check out my site, but wait a few days…

Him:  Why?

Me:  Because when people act like assholes on dates with me, I put it on the internet.  Is that my coat?  Thanks.

Him:  What?

Me:  Yeah!  You’re famous!  Congrats!  And hey.

Enjoy playing mind games with someone else.

Jerk.

(Surprise ending:  I laughed about him the whole train ride home.  I didn’t feel bad about myself.)

FriDATE

by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

Him:  So.  Here we are.

Me:  Yes.  This is it.

Him:  I feel like I’ve been here before.  How long have you lived here?  Did this apartment come with chalkboards up? This apartment is big for New York standards.  I can’t believe I’m hanging out at PIEFOLK.

Me:  It’s just my dirty kitchen.  I’ve been here about 8 or 9 years.  The chalkboard is just paint you can get at Home Depot.

Him:  You painted it yourself??

Me:  Yeah.  Of course.  What would you do?

Him:  Hire someone.  I dunno.

Me:  Ha.  That wasn’t an option.  I was having some lean times when I painted these walls.

Him:  Oh?  What’s changed?

Me:  Nothing.

Him:  OH.

Me:  I’m almost always nearly broke.  It’s fun.  Makes you live creatively.

Him:  So what are we making?  What is this?  Sour cream?  Why did you buy sour cream?  Are these blueberries?  This is the first time I’ve ever made anything.  I never made food before.

Me:  You’ve never made food before?

Him:  We had a cook.

Me:  Wow.  You’re from a wealthy family.

Him:  Not wealthy.  Well off.

Me: If you say so.  Sounds wealthy to me.

Him:  Well I left.  I didn’t want to do it.  I couldn’t.  Can I check my Facebook?  What is that?  What are you whisking?  Is that butter?  What’s this for?  What are you doing with that yellow liquid?  Is that egg?  Who was that guy from last week with all the muscles?  How tall are you?

Me:  It’s butter.  I’m 6ft.  That guy was named Dan Paul.  He’s a recording artist and a go go dancer.

Him:  Ugh.  NO WAY.  I tried dating a go go dancer for a while.  No thank you.  They’re not suitable for dating.  That’s not what they’re for.

Me:  What are they for?

(pause)

Me:  Can you tell me a little bit why it didn’t work?

Him:  I just had a hard time with it.  I would get resentful.  He was always going out to get naked with other people.

Me:  Doing his job?

Him:  Yes.  But I would get jealous.

Me:  (laughs)

Him: What’s so funny?

Me:  He was doing his job.  The job he was doing when you presumably met him.

Him:  So?

Me:  It struck me as ironic.  Your tone was all ‘don’t date go go boys.’  You said it pretty strongly, as if you were going to follow up with some sort of moral failing they have.  But, you’ve only really listed your own flaw.

Him:  Which is?

Me:  Jealousy…  Inability to accept him for who he is/what he does for a living.  He was just doing his job.

Him:  I guess so.  Can I have a hug?

Me:  Yes.

(I hug him for a while.)

Me:  You’re pretty, and your skin is amazing.

Him:  I bet you say that to all the boys.

Me:  I do. I say it to every single one of them.

Him: That makes me feel so very special.

Me:  So I’ve heard.

Him:  From who?

Me:  ‘All the boys.’  We have to finish these muffins.

Him:  Hey, do you have an iPhone charger?  Oh my God what type of music is this?  Do you like pop music?  Can I use your bathroom?  Is there a mirror?  What do I look like?

Me:  Yes to all, except pop music.  I like it okay, but this is some dark alt country station that I made on Pandora.

Him:  I can’t stand to listen to country music. Why do my eyes look so chinky?  I look Chinese!  Other Filipino guys have such round eyes.  I get mistaken for Chinese all the time.

Me:  Your eyes are beautiful.  If they were rounder people would think you were Mexican.

Him:  That’s true.  People take me for Mexican all the time.  Can I have another hug?

(we hug for a while)

Me: Does your family in the Philippines know you’re gay?

Him:  Yes.  They had a ‘Coming Out’ party for me when I told them  I think that’s strange.  Why would you have to announce it??

Me:  Seriously?

Him: Yeah.  Why would you feel the need to announce it.  Straight people don’t have to announce their sexuality.

Me:  But Straight people do announce their own sexuality, all the time.

Him:  No they don’t.

Me:  Yes.  They do.  A debutante’s Coming Out party is just a formal announcement that she’ll be taking dates from men now.  Straight people announce their sexuality all the time.  Going to Hooters with pals, getting your first date with a girl, asking someone to marry you in a public place, bridal showers – they’re all ways of announcing you’re straight.  A christening!  What is a christening if not proof that heterosexuality happened?

Him:  But why is it important for us to announce it?

Me:  You’re asking me this?  Me?  I’m the guy who bakes naked and gay all over the internet.  It’s important because we’re asked by an oppressive straight society to cover up, or subvert ourselves for the sake of not making straights uncomfortable.  It happens all the time in various subtle and blatant ways.

Him:  Like how? 

Me:  Like when your boyfriend says, hey, please don’t kiss me while we’re hanging out with my grandma – she knows I’m gay but I don’t want to freak her out.  That’s your boyfriend acknowledging that his sexuality is a nuisance for straight people.  That’s him asking you to be an accomplice in apologizing for or covering up your sexuality.

Him:  So you’re saying we should stop doing that.  We should announce it.

Me:  I’m saying we HAVE to start doing that.  It’s life or death.  There are plenty of people out there that sympathize with us, but there are plenty of people out there that wish we would get AIDS and die.

Him:  AIDS. 

Me:  AIDS.  Oh!  The muffins are done.  Looks like they’re falling apart.  I guess I shouldn’t have haphazardly put twice as many blueberries in there.

Him:  Yeah.  They’re soggy inside and they didn’t hold form.  I like them.  Good job, Jerk.

The Closet

by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

Hey Michael,

First off, your site is amazing! Its really interesting to read, and funny too! Although I could spend the rest of this message praising your site, the real reason I’m writing is because I’ve got a problem.
I just turned 20 and I am in the closet (mostly), mainly due to the fact that I go to the U.S. Naval Academy in Annapolis. I just finished my sophomore year and at the end of the summer I will have to sign a document stating that the next seven years of my life will be devoted to the service of the Navy or Marine Corps. I know that I could be successful as an military officer, but I can’t help feeling that I am completely off my rocker for a few reasons.
First, even with the repeal of Don’t Ask Don’t Tell, I feel like coming out this fall would just cause me more problems than it is actually worth. Many of the people at my school would give me a lot of shit and I’d rather not deal with that if possible. Second, I feel that I would be defending a country where many people believe that I shouldn’t have the same rights as everyone else.
Don’t get me wrong, America is a great place and overall should be defended. Surprisingly, I really like going to school at the Naval Academy and like most of the people there too. I just feel that I can’t talk to any of my friends about this since they wouldn’t understand the situation and I want to get input from different people before I make the final decision whether to sign or not. Thanks so much!
W.T. Door
Hey, W. T.

Thanks for your kind words.  It’s nice to know people are reading.

It sounds like you’ve got two issues here.  Allow me to order them for you?

#1:  You want to know if you should pull the trigger and sign the contract on a military career.

Yes.  You should.  You’re there for a reason.  You’ve spent all this time there for a reason.  You’re good at this, and you’re drawn to it.  That’s a great thing.  It’s great to know at a young age what you’re good at and why.  Most young men your age don’t have that blessing, to know what they’re passionate about/good at.  You should sign the contract.

Part of your argument seems to be your reservations about whether or not you should be defending a country that won’t allow you the same rights as everyone else.  I hear that.  You’re probably angry.  I know I am.  I’m angry at Straight people in America for silently watching as a smaller faction of militant bullies deny Gays their civil rights.

Even so, part of what makes your narrative so compelling is that willingness and proclivity toward doing just that:  defending a nation of people that still denies you your rights.  There’s a real shortage of gay role models out there – people who will stand up and live an open, naked, unashamed life, and participate in the world that seems to exclude them.  You should be one of those gay role models.  You already inspire me as such, and I can’t wait to see what you’re capable of.

#2 You want to know if you should come out of the closet and conduct your military career as an openly gay homosexual.

Yes.  Yes you should.

How can you possibly be the inspiring role model I already know you to be, if nobody knows you’re Gay?

I know it will be difficult.  Possibly even fraught with peril.  I grew up openly Gay in a very rural, difficult area of central Florida.  It wasn’t easy.  People resented me and ostracized me.  I remember once getting hit in the head with a thrown rock, at my lunch table.

But, I worked harder.  I was more charming, nicer, and harder working than straight boys needed to be.  I never apologized for who I was, nor was I content to shrink up into a marginalized back seat, and wait for the Straights to decide what was what for me.  For better or for worse, I threw myself into their society.

That’s what you should do, too.

I know.  You must be thinking, hey, this is Annapolis – not your high school.  True enough.  But still, without people like you – how can we ever hope for a world where there is gender, race, or sexual orientation equality?

Doesn’t our fight deserve a few brave, open soldiers?

Ask yourself this:

Would you rather live your life as a positive gay role model?  Or would you rather cower as a closeted gay workaholic who desperately hopes his true self doesn’t leak out around the edges at social functions?  I think you know the answer.

You’ve already made a whole lot of brave choices in your life that led you to Annapolis.  Now you have to continue that tradition.  Do it for the brave openly Gay people that have come before you.  Do it for your terrified brothers who live their lives in the closet.  Do it for your country.

But most of all – do it for yourself.

Bryan

by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

This is Bryan.  He is a sweet boy.  He is studying advertising here in New York City.

He wanted to help me make a pie.

What was I gonna do, say no?

Me:  We’re making Banana Cream.

Him:  Good thing that’s my favorite.

Me:  Yes it is a good thing.

Him: I suppose it is.

Me:  I suppose I agree.

Him:  I suppose I do too.

There was a lot of supposing going on.

Me:  So you’re a student?

Him:  That’s right.  I study advertizing at SVA.

Me:  Sounds fun.

Him:  It’s a lot of work.  I work almost every day of my life.  I have like, three jobs.

Me:  Really?  Me too!

Him:  Oh?

Me:  Yup.  I bake specialty pies for benefits and celebrities.  I do comedy.  I also do commercial acting.

Him:  What’s that?

Me:  Acting for commercials.

Him:  Have you done anything I might have seen?

Me:  No.  Regional spots outside New York, and online stuff for boring companies that do things like make pressed aluminum.  Exciting.

Him:  I suppose.

Me:  I suppose not.  But I get by.

(Uh…  This didn’t really happen.  We didn’t really have a Lady and the Tramp moment with a banana.  You’re imagining things)

Him:  I cook and clean up after a guy who pays me to do that for him.

Me:  Doioioioioioioing!

Him:  What’s that?

Me:  That’s the sound of me getting a boner thinking about you cleaning someone’s house and cooking for them, naked.

Him:  I didn’t say naked.

Me:  I have a very active imagination.  Let me have my fantasy.

Him:  I suppose I will.

Me:  What’s your family like?

Him:  My dad was a jerk.  My mom worked her ass off every day to support him.  He was a drunk to end all drunks.

Me:  Was?  Did he die?

Him:  No.  But he’s gone now.

Me:  Oh.

Him:  Yeah.  It really motivated me to get up and do something with my life.  Even if I have to work really hard to achieve it, like I am now.

Me:  That sounds about right.  I’m proud of you.

Him:  You don’t even know me!

Me:  Even so.  I’m proud.

Him:  Hm.

Me:  Hold up.  Where did that bootie come from?

Him:  Ha.  Do I have a butt?

Me:  No, you have two of them.

Him:  Heh.

Me:  Usually you don’t see a butt like that on a guy your size.

Him:  I did a lot of bike riding back in Jersey.  6 miles a day or so.

Me:  Well.  Remind me to thank the good people at Schwinn.

Him:  Why?

Me:  Doioioioioioioioing!!!

Him:  Stop it, weirdo.

Me:  Hm.

Him: I really like this neighborhood.

Me:  Me too.

Him:  I’m moving here in 10 days.

Me:  What?

Him:  I’ll be living a few blocks from here.

Me: Uh oh.  That sounds like it could be trouble.

Him:  It might be.

Me:  Uh oh.

Him:  Don’t get your hopes up.  Jerk.

Conversations

by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

Him:  His face looks a little Aids Walk.

Me: Maybe, but if he’s in his early forties it’s quite possible that he’s just been binge drinking for 20 years.  It might not be Aids Walk at all.

Him:  Then again, it might. 

Me:  Yes.  Well the only way to know is to ask.

Him:  My butthole is both the fountain of youth and the BQE.

Me:  Frequently renewing, and refreshing.  Sometimes clogged.  Always a good way to get where you’re going.

Him:  OMG is that Sean Hayes?

Me:  No, that’s a drag queen.

Him:  I know, but is it Sean Hayes?

(pause)

Me:  Looks like it.

Me:  What are the three things gays enjoy most on a Sunday afternoon?

Him: Meryl Streep, Sauvignon Blanc, and Poppers Florentine.

Me:  True…  Meryl will take any movie it seems…

Him:  And YOU’LL watch it, like a good homo.

Me:  Also true!

Him:  Ever since I started sleeping with other people of color I have to worry less about hiding my valuables in my oven when I get lucky.

Me:  You hide your valuables in your oven?

Him:  Just my passport and my wallet.  White people are kleptomaniacs.

Me:  We are?

Him:  Yes.  There’s a Winona Ryder inside all of you.

Me:  I thought it was a bossy Jewish man inside of me.

Him:  That was yesterday.

Me:  If only.

Him:  Whoops.  You just farted.

Me:  Yes.  I’m rotten inside.

Him:  That’s more than rotten.  What happened to you?

Me: I don’t know.  Something crawled inside me and died?

Him:  Ugh.  It’s TERRIBLE.  You should check your underwear.

Me:  I’m pretty sure I didn’t shit my pants, but it does feel like maybe there’s some parts of shredded pancreas or kidney I might have lost.

Him:  Rough.

Me:  I’m pretty sure I have two pancreases right?  It’ll be fine.

Him:  Light a match.

Him:  You look nice tonight.

Me:  Thanks!  I showered and prepped myself.  I might try to get lucky tonight.

Him:  What’s ‘prep’ yourself mean?

Me:  Oh, you know, shave, pluck the uni-brow, enema, cute outfit.

Him:  Planning on bottoming?

Me:  Not necessarily.  But who knows who I’ll meet?

Him:  You smell good.

Me:  I just wiped vanilla extract all over my junk.

Him:  SERIOUSLY?

Me:  It’s a phase.  I have to keep pushing myself to change and grow, and vanilla extract on my satchel is part of the process.

Him:  Really?

Me:  No.  I’m just weird.

Me: Hey, you look really good.

Him:  Hey, wow.  I can’t go to Williamsburg without running into you.

Me:  I like running into you.  I miss you.

Him:  I know.  I miss you too.

(pause)

Him:  (clears throat) So, there’s free BBQ if you buy a drink.

Me: I know.  It’s just about the best thing in the world, right?

(pause)

Me:  You look pretty.  Oh my God, look at you smile.  Look at that smile!

Him:  Stop.  We don’t talk like that anymore.

Me:  We can if we want to.

Him:  I don’t want you to.

Me:  Okay.

Him:  I think we’re going to go do Karaoke in K Town.

Me:  Sounds fun.

Him:  It’s extremely Asian.

Me:  Just like me.  I’m extremely Asian.  Just kidding.  I’m white.

Him:  What does that mean? 

Me: Apparently it means that I’m a klepto.  Can I have a hug, before you leave?

(long pause)

Him:  Okay.  But then I gotta go.

(long pause)

Jerk.