Nobody cares at 2am

 

Him: We should have shots! Have you ever had a Bitchy Drag Queen?

Me: No. I mean, yes, but no.

Him: What? You’re weird.

Me: I know. So tell me more about you. What’s your dating life been like, so far?

Him: Oh. I like older guys. Older. Like, you’re probably too young for me. Like older guys.

Me: I get it.

Him: Old. Like much older.

Me: Okay.

Him: Like the last guy I had really good sex with was 50.

Me: Okay. Yes. I get it.

Him: But he was ripped,  you know? And hot. Older guys are hotter.

Me: If you say so. I’ll buy it, I guess.

Him: There’s something else about older guys too…

Me: What’s that?

Him: They don’t seem to care. 

Me: About what?

Him: I can’t put my finger on it. It’s like they’ve been there already, and they’re not worried about impressing you, and they’re not hypersensitive about your opinion.

Me: Yeah. Young people can be like that.

Him: I hate it. I have had sex with younger guys and it’s always a shit show.

Me: Why?

Him: Take your pick. They’re not good at sex. They get their feelings hurt at the drop of a hat. They don’t care about your feelings at all though.

Me: Ha. I knew a poet like that once.

Him: Really?

Me: Yeah, he would go on and on about how shy and fragile and sensitive he was, but he was only sensitive to his own feelings, not yours. He didn’t care at all if he’d hurt or disappointed you. Actors can be like that too, to an extent.

Him: Comics too, I bet.

Me: Comics are different.

Him: Why?

Me: Because they’re real people. If anything, their flaw is that they care too much, and cover up by being clownish, or sarcastic.

Him: I don’t think that’s true.

Me: I’m probably wrong. I frequently am.

Him: Stop it. You’re so crazy. I like older guys. Nothing can phase them. They’re like rocks.

Me: Well yeah. They were your age, and they were pretty, sensitive, talented, relevant.

Him: They still are.

Me: Maybe, but then 15 – 35 years of awful, coarse, wonderful, terrifying, giddy, disappointing, enlightening  things happened to them. And now they’re different. And also tired. I’m tired a lot more often than I used to get.
But I also work more than I ever did, so I guess I earned my tiredness.

Him: See?

Me: See what?

Him: See, that’s something that a young person would never say. ‘I earned my tiredness.’ That’s what I like about older guys. They’re real. Not like young guys, who are petty, and awkward, and selfish. They’ll spend the night dancing with you, and then buy you a drink at the end of the night, and if you get drunk enough they’ll make out with you. But they don’t really want to get to know you. They don’t care about you. They’re only ‘having an experience’ for the night. And they’ll pretend to care. But nobody does. Nobody cares at 2am when you’ve had too many Midori sours and you just need a friend.  But an older guy will…

Me: Midori sours? Why would anyone…

Him: I’ve tried to reach out to them. They suck, okay?! I’ve tried to open my heart to younger people but they don’t know how to take that gift and make something of it. They just eat it and shit it out and wonder if there’s more. Or worse, they hope there isn’t more. I’m so tired of having a significantly affectionate date with a younger guy, only to have sex with him and then have him desperately try to distance himself from me the next day. Where are those shots? We need shots!

Me: We don’t need shots. I’d say we’ve had plenty.

Him: Then take me home.

Me: How about I get you a cab? I like you but you’re a little wasted.

Him: When will I stop being young? I hate it.

Me: Believe me, it’s a curable affliction.

Him: Take me h-ohmygod you just flagged a cab down! What a jerk.

Me: You’re wasted and I have to work in the morning.

Him: Jerk.

Me: I know.

Him: You’re a jerk.

Me: I know.

Him: You’re also old.

(pause – two short blasts from a car horn)

Me: I know. Now go home.

Him: See? Nobody cares at 2am.

Me: Nobody does.

I Have Dreams

baking photos by kristen yoonsoo kim

Him:  Hey.  Nice to meet you.  I’m Y.

Me:  Nice to meet you too, Y, I’m Michael.

Him:  It’s so funny.  I was just thinking about you, the other day. 

Me:  Oh, is that so?  Why?

Him:  This is so weird.  I’ve just met you, but I feel a sort of connection between us.  Something cosmic, maybe.

Me:  Haha…  please sit down.  Take your coat off.  Would you like a drink?  I think I have some Xmas whiskey around here somewhere…

Him:  Of course.  I’ll have some whiskey.

Me:  What would you like me to mix it with?  I have ice, and ice.

Him:  What?

Me:  It’s a joke.  I don’t have any mixers.

Him:  Ice will be fine.

Me:  So, cosmic connection?

Him:  Well, you said hi to me on Grindr…

Me:  That’s true…

(sometimes i think cylons have invaded my grinder app)

Him:  Which led me to your blog, which I spent the last three days reading.

Me:  You what?

Him:  I read the whole thing.

Me:  Congrats, I haven’t even read the whole thing…

Him:  Is that so? 

Me:  No.  I’ve read it a few times…

(pause)

Me:  What??  I’m self absorbed!  Keep going…

Him:  Anyway I was at a soba restaurant the other day, and I kept hearing them call out a name to someone in the kitchen.  They kept yelling Kazu!

Me:  Aw.  My little brother, Kazu.   I love that kid.

Him:  Exactly.  He looked so familiar, and I thought the coincidence was too strong, and I had to try to meet you.

Me:  Well I hope you’re not too disappointed.

Him:  No, not at all.  When I hugged you hello, I noticed you have a nice smell.

Me:  I…  uh, what?  I mean, thank you.  Thank you.  That’s very sweet of you to say.  You’re a very cute boy yourself.

Him:  I’m 32.

Me:  I know, but you know what I mean.  Can I  sniff you?

Him:  Sniff?

Me:  You know, now that we’re keeping tabs.

Him:   Okay.

(pause – I smell him.)

Me:  You smell nice too.

Him:  Thank you.

Me:  Well I’m glad that’s out of the way.  So you were talking about connections?

Him:  Yeah.  I do this thing.  I have dreams sometimes.  Sometimes they come true.  Well, no, not exactly, but it’s something similar.  Do you have time?  Can I tell a story?

Me:  Sure.

Him:  A while back I had a dream.  I dreamed about my 4th grade teacher.  I hadn’t thought about him in a long time, but he was one of my better teachers and he was well liked by the class…   Anyway, that’s pretty weird to just dream about your old teacher like that. 

(grindr, that’s not what umbrellas are for…)

Anyway, in my dream he was dead.  Everyone was sad that he was dead. Lots of students had gathered to celebrate him and commemorate his death.  Well, I didn’t think much about the dream until a few months later when my grandfather in Tokyo had a stroke.  I was supposed to go back and see him, but I had this feeling that everything with my grandfather would be all right.  In any case,  I wound up taking a flight back to Tokyo.

Me:  Bye, bye – 1500 dollars.

Him:  Right?  And here’s the weird thing:  my grandfather wound up being fine.  BUT.  While we were visiting him in the hospital, I found, just by chance that my 4th grade teacher was there, dying of cancer.

Me:  Are you serious??

Him:  Yes.  I happened to walk by his room and notice his name on the door.

Me:  That’s amazing.

Him:  Yes, and I contacted a number of our classmates that I could find on Facebook, and we all went to visit him, and thank him for teaching us, and affecting our lives.  And then he died, shortly after.

Me:  Is that true?

Him:  Absolutely.

Me:  That’s a beautiful story.  Hey…

Him:  What?

Me:  Thank you for telling me that.  I’m glad you felt a connection with me.  I’m glad that you’re here.  And, know what?

Him:  What?

Me:  I think it was a very kind thing you did, organizing your classmates together to visit your teacher.  I think that’s impressive.

Him:  Oh…  I just wanted him to see how much further down the line he had affected the world.  I wanted him to know that he taught us well, and that we went out in the world and did well.  It was important to me.

Me:  Well thank you for telling me about that.  I think that’s inspiring, somehow.

Him:  Thank you.

(long pause)

Him:  Can I smell you again?

(long pause)

Me:  Yes, of course you can.

SaturDATE

Him:  I didn’t like it.  You called me an imp.  You said I was drunk and negative….  You made me really mortified.

Me:  I didn’t like it either.  You were hammered.  I expected you to be more functional… We chatted for a long time online.  We video chatted… I had high hopes you would treat me better than you did.  You were really kind of mean, and you don’t even know it…

Him:  You have a lot of nerve.  To say that stuff about me, so publicly.

Me:  I’m pretty sure I said: you are mischievous when you’re drunk, and you have a lot of emotions that have to be dealt with immediately.   That’s not completely unflattering.  That’s actually semi-mundane.   Lots of people act like that drunk.

My mistake was, I was too nice.  I should have said exactly how much of a jerk you acted like…

Him:  I was mortified.

Me:  I was mortified. Some of your friends were hostile to me, for no reason.  One of them stuck his hands down my pants.  EVERYONE seemed way drunk or coked out.  It was a lot of energy.  And you were breaking up with your boyfriend.  You put me in the middle of that, and I don’t know you very well.  You threw a tantrum about wanting to go home, and then got alternately maudlin and flirty with me on the train. – IN FRONT OF YOUR BOYFRIEND.  Then you insisted that you wanted to go out some more.  I had an awkward evening that got more so at every turn.  No.  That’s not accurate.  I got my feelings hurt.  It was more than awkward.  You treated me like some sort of dog and pony show you were trotting out.

Him:  You should have left and called me out on it.

Me:  I should have not come.

Him:  Maybe.  Take down the post.

Me:  If I’m hurting your feelings I’ll take it down.  I hate that I hurt your feelings.  I thought I made you seem like a charming guy that got a little too drunk one night.

Him:  Good.  Take it down.  Take it all down.

Me:  Hm…  I dunno.  This is my blog.  My online diary.  I don’t want to be censored.   I’ll take down your pic.  How’s that?

Him:  Okay.  Take it down.

Me:  Sure.  Just say one more thing.

Him:  What do you want to hear?  TAKE. IT. DOWN.

Me:  I know but…  ‘Take it down,” and then what do we say??  What do we do?  When we want our friend to do us a favor?  We say what?

Him:  Take it down or hear from my lawyer.

Me:   We say please. I’ll take it down if you ask me to.  But you don’t bark orders at me.  Just say please.

Him:  Take it down.

Me:  If you say please.

Him: I won’t

Me:  Neither will I.  We’re still not showing respect for each other.  I’m big on that…

Him:  Then hear from my lawyer.

Me:  Okay.

(long pause)

Just know that it came down to just one word.  You could have said one word.  Please.

Jerk.