Tag: gay sex

FriDATE: Tainted

by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

photos by tri vo

Him: Ugh. I’m so full. That was good food, actually.

Me: Actually?

Him: Yeah, I was expecting it to be bad. Most people are bad cooks.

Me: Oh. Thanks?

Him: Don’t worry. It’s a compliment.

Me: I wasn’t worried. But thank you.

Him: Still. I thought there would be pie.

Me: I didn’t make any today.

Him: I wonder if your pie is any good?

Me: It’s a mystery.

Him: Should I help you do the dishes?

Me: Nah. It’s always awkward doing the dishes in another person’s house. I know where everything goes.

Him: But I feel bad!

Me: Well don’t. I invited you over for dinner.

Him: We should drink this wine I brought. I don’t like the beer.

Me: The beer’s almost gone anyway – but I better lay off the wine.

Him: Why? It’s Saturday night.

Me: I’m feeling oddly full. Like indigestion somehow. Plus I’m teaching all day tomorrow so I better just behave.

Him: Boring! I’m gonna drink this wine.

Me: Have at it.

Him: You’re acting weird. Can I look at your books and judge you on your bookshelf?

Me: Sure, but most of the stuff I really like has been lent out to people that haven’t returned it. So…

Him: That’s what I’d say too, if I were being judged.

Me: …

Him: Ohmygod. You have the Popol Vuh! Can I have this book?

Me: What?

Him: Can I have this book? Did you read it already?

(pause)

Me: Uh, sure… You can have the book.

Him: No. I don’t really want it.

Me: It sounded like you did. I just had to think about whether I’m ever going to read it, and I don’t think I am. So go ahead and take it.

Him: Nah. It’s in English, and my professor translated it in Spanish. I think I’ll read it in Spanish. I don’t want to be tainted by the English version.

Me: Yes. By all means – don’t taint yourself.

Him: Ew. Why do you have Joy Luck Club?

Me: Somebody gave it to me. I thought it was a good read.

Him: It’s super racist.

Me: Really? How so? It didn’t strike me as terribly racist.

Him: Oh I don’t know. I haven’t read it. My professor says it’s racist and I believe him. I’m getting more wine.

Me: I’ve had a few Chinese American friends read it and say it was relatively close to their own experiences as first generation Americans. I don’t think Amy Tan is a member of the Klan or anything.

Him: Hm. Wow. I’m really plowing through this wine. You should have some with me.

Me: I don’t know if that’s a great idea. I’m feeling a little off. I ate this ham earlier today. It was really cheap and I think it was leftover from Easter. I’m feeling strange.

Him: Something’s wrong with the lighting in here. You need something less bright than this lamp, but brighter than this other one.

Me: I have this – flip that switch over there.

Him: Ohmygod! What is this??

Me: It’s an antique x-ray light from the 1950’s. There’s an actual x-ray in there, too.

Him: Ew. Gross. I don’t like it. I do not like it.

Me: Okay then. Turn it off.

Him: I’m pouring myself some more wine.

Me: Go for it.

Him: I’m not leaving until I finish this wine.

Me: Well you don’t have far to go.

Him: Let’s lay on your bed for a minute.

Me: Hey. You’re really cute, but I’m starting…  Feel my forehead. Do I have a fever?

Him: Um. NO. You don’t.

Me: You didn’t feel my forehead.

Him: Come on. Just lay down with me.

Me: I’m really feeling out of sorts. Like, I think I may have eaten tainted food.

Him: Ugh. Look. I’m going to be straightforward. I want to have sex. Do you want to have sex?

Me: I think you’re attractive – but I’m really not feeling well. I think I gave myself food poisoning, somehow.

Him: You’re acting irrational and weird. Make out with me.

Me: You need to work on your game.

Him: What?

Me: You don’t call people weird and irrational and then ask them to make out. Listen to me, okay? I think I have a fever.

Him: So, sex, or no sex?

Me: No sex. Probable diarrhea.

Him: Me and my friends are going dancing tonight. You should come.

Me: I. Am. Ill.

Him: Okay, cool. Am I ever going to see you again, mister?

Me: Maybe. Maybe we can hang out again…

Him: Look. Just tell me right now yes or no.

Me: This is a first date. Cool it on the ultimatums.

Him: I’m not leaving until I finish my wine.

Me: I gathered.

Him: I really like your apartment, actually.  I expected not to like it.

Me: Thank you. You’re too kind.  Jerk.

ThursDATE: They’re Playing Our Song

by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

photos by eryc perez de tagle

Him:  So that was the afternoon I got my acceptance letter to Sarah Laurence College.  And I got a scholarship, so I told my parents to suck it.

Me:  Haha – good for you.  That was a great story.

Him:  Thanks.  You know – I don’t know what it is, but there’s something about you…

Me:  Heh.  Thanks.  But give it a second – you’ve only known me for 15 minutes.  I get progressively less charming with time.

Him:  Oh, I don’t believe that.

Me:  It’s been proven scientifically.  Oh hey – I love this song.

Him:  Neutral Milk Hotel?

Me:  Yeah – I always really liked this one.

Him:  Oh my God, me too…  This could totally be our song!

Me:  Huh?

Him:  When we come here five years from now, on our anniversary – we can ask the bartender to play it because it’s our song!

Me:  Heh – all right, all right.  You’re getting ahead of yourself, just a little bit, no?

(pause)

Him:  Haha – yeah, I’m just joking, silly!

Me:  Oh.  Of course.  Of course you are…  heh…  So, what do you do for work?

Him:  I’m a freelance grant writer.

Me:  Oh?  Wow.

Him:  I know – you didn’t picture yourself with a grant writer, did you?  Nobody does – every time I ask that question, nobody does…

Me:  I…  I don’t know.

Him:  Do you like kids?  I love children.

Me:  I have some nieces and nephews and I gotta say, I like them so much more than I thought i was going to.

Him:  What does that mean?  That sounds horrible.

Me:  Hm.  I guess it does, in a way.  What I mean to say is – I wasn’t prepared for how much I was going to actually like/love them.  They’re really quite wonderful.

Him:  That sounds better – do you want kids?

Me:  I don’t know.  I went through a phase where I thought I did, but now I’m wondering if there aren’t advantages to not having them too…  I’m a writer and a comic and it’s pretty enticing, not having to slow down your work load because you had a kid.

Him:  Um, ew.   We’ll have to work on that answer, mister!  I want two kids – a boy and a girl.  Holden and Hanna – after Salinger and Woody Allen.

Me:  Really?  Holden?

Him:  You’ll get used to it.  So have you thought about a survival job?

Me:  What?

Him:  Well freelance writing and comedy can’t pay that well, can they?

Me:  Well they can, but in my case, no.  I barely scrape by.  But I’m kind of okay with that.

Him:  But how are you going to support a family??

Me:  What?  I just said that I might not have one.

Him:  I know – I was just kidding!  Even so, what about Holden and Hanna?

Me:  I don’t…  What do you do for fun around here?  When you’re not grant writing?

Him:  I hope you know I plan to retire by the age of 50, if at all possible…

(long pause)

Me:  I think we’re getting ahead of ourselves.

Him:  Oh you!  You always say that!

Me:  I do.  Always.  For the last 25 minutes.

Him:  You know, I’m starting to think you’re not even looking for a boyfriend.

Me:  I’m not.

Him:  What??

Me:  I’m not – well not actively, at least.  I pride myself on  not being the type of guy that needs to find validation through having a boyfriend.  Not that I’m dead set against it, I’m just not desperately searching for one.

Him:  Ugh.  I wish you would have said that online.  I feel like my time has been wasted.

Me:  I’m sorry you feel that way.

Him:  Aw!  Our first fight!  I’m sorry too – I didn’t mean that thing about wasting my time.

Me:  …

Him:  I’m just kidding!  Let’s have another drink.

Me:  No.

Him: No?

Me: No.  But thanks for meeting up.  Jerk.

ThursDATE: Aphasia

by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

Place:  The L Train.

Time:  Afternoon

(What appears to be a Homeless Man is talking very animatedly to a creeped-out stranger.  He is speaking gibberish.  He looks terrified.)

Homeless Man:  Otamad Krik.  Ayulac!  Niwre! Enialb Sonaj!

(This goes on for a long time, the whole train ignores it.  Then suddenly:)

Him:  Yes brother!  Let it out!  Let her hear the pain!

(A couple of people titter)

Him:  He’s telling the WORLD!!!

(pause, nobody laughs)

Me:  I think we’re witnessing aphasia.

Him:  What??

Me:  When someone has a stroke they sometimes can’t speak right.  I just thought you should know what you’re ridiculing.

Him:  Oh are you a doctor?  Can you go and help him?

Me:  No.  I’m not a doctor, smart ass.

Her:  Don’t talk to him.  You don’t have to talk to him.

Me:  You should know what you’re making fun of, at least, right?  I think it’s aphasia.

Him:  I was just being positive!

Me:  You were ridiculing him.

Him:  Yeah.  Well.  Yeah.  I…

Her:  You don’t have to be such an asshole.  You don’t have to turn the whole train against my boyfriend.  The guy is (whispers) homeless.

Me:  And therefore less than human: I get it.   Sure.  He’s had a stroke or brain damage, but let’s consider your boyfriend’s feelings here! You’re right.  I’m an asshole.  In this whole situation, I’m the asshole.

Him:   Hey, if you’re such an altruist why don’t you go help him?  You have a chance to prove how good you are!!

Me:  Oh no.  You’ve got it wrong.  I’m not an altruist.  I just couldn’t process my shock and anger at your behavior without pointing out that the man is clearly brain damaged.  I’m just processing it.

Her:  Are you taking photographs?  DON’T TALK TO HIM.  (then, to me:) He was just having fun.  You made everyone on the train uncomfortable. 

Me:  Did I? Did I do that?  Was it me?

(The train stops.)

Me:  I believe this is your stop.

Conductor:  Bedford Avenue.

(They leave the train.)

(I try to gather the courage to photograph the Homeless Man, but I feel icky about that, so I don’t.)

(I get off two stops later and tell the station agent there’s a sick passenger on the train.)

Five Things

by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

Gentlemen.

Here are five things not to say on a date with me:

#1:  “I know you’re a comic, but seriously, what job do you do – you don’t seem that funny?”

No.  Wrong.  Seriously.  Not the right thing to say.  That IS what I do.  I pay my rent doing this.  I’m not at work right now, and you’re not paying me to be funny.

Remember when we ordered our appetizers and you were condescending to the waitress?  Right after that you gave me a cocky smile and said “I’m a surgeon,”  with the intonation that one might say “I’m heir to a vast fortune.” And what did I do?  I smiled and asked what type of surgeon you are.  I did not look at you suspiciously, and then patronizingly point out that you don’t seem like a surgeon.  I really wanted to though.  I really wanted to say “That’s not true!  Surgeons are smart, and they wear hospital scrubs, not Old Navy Jeans.”

#2:  “I like your blog, but what’s with all the Asians?  I just don’t get it.  I tried having sex with an Asian once and I don’t know.  It’s just not for me.  Ick.”

Nope.  That ain’t gonna get you laid, kiddo.  Up until now, I’d been thinking, wow, he’s attractive, and sort of nice. I hope he’s a sweet, down to earth white guy, and not an entitled, mildly racist white guy who acts ‘over’ everything.

Maybe you didn’t mean it to sound racist, but we’ve only known each other for four minutes.  Don’t say that my friends are ‘ick.’  Also – nobody pressured you to have sex with an Asian.  Well maybe some Asians did, at some point, but that’s not me, or my friends from the site.

Guys – if you want to get laid, you have to hide your racism.  You have to hide it.   2011.  Get with the program.

And why do we hide something?  Because we’re ashamed of it!

Great!  Now you’re learning!

#3 I try to live my life for Jesus.

Not with me you don’t.

Here’s an idea.  Try to live your life for yourself.

Also, creep-o, after you talk about Jesus and God and how religion is good for the world for an hour, don’t offer to blow me ‘real quick before you go teach your class.’  It undermines the sanctimoniousness image you spent so long cultivating!  Also.  Less teeth next time.

Jokes.  There won’t be a next time.

Jokes.  There wasn’t a ‘this time.’  I said no.

#4: “Wow, two auditions and two rehearsals?   You should get more sleep!  You look exhausted!  Seriously!  You look awful!”

Thanks.  You’re right.  I am exhausted.  You’re tiresome.

I just complimented you on your hair and your choice of clothing, and you come up with that??  Also, we just met.  Don’t tell me what I ‘should’ do with my life.  Everyone knows you wait until the third date before you start the gentle browbeating that will continue for the rest of the relationship.

Also. Floss.  When I kissed you I could tell you ate a BLT three days ago.

Floss.

#5: “Ugh!  I’m so glad you don’t act as GAY as you seem like you might online.”

Wow.  Really?

So.  I run a website where I talk about how much I hate homophobia, and you contacted me off that site. Did you think I just meant straight people being homophobic?  Where do you think straight people get the permission to say stupid, insensitive, homophobic shit?  From Gays like you!  They overhear you saying shit like that in restaurants and on subway cars and they think, hm, I’ll try that out on my Gay co-worker – HE’LL LOVE IT.

How about, love yourself?  How about accept your brothers? How about, stop tearing other people down for qualities you hate inside yourself?

Because, that’s what that is:  If you look down on someone, or are grossed out because they act ‘too Gay,’  it’s you showing your own self-loathing.  It’s you saying, okay, maybe I’m Gay, but I’m not as Gay as that guy – I’m one of the good ones!

Guys, we’re all one of the good ones.  We all have the capacity for goodness inside us.  Don’t punish yourself, or your Gay brothers/sisters for something that Straight people have taught you to hate inside yourself.  Reach out with love in your heart and you’ll find the love you’re looking for.  If you have a racist or homophobic thought, acknowledge it and laugh at yourself, and let yourself off the hook.  It takes the power away from it.  Eventually, you’ll stop thinking that way.

Or don’t.  I’m not going to tell you how to live.  Except on this blog.  And all the time.  I’m annoying like that.  You’re welcome.

Sometimes it’s me.  Sometimes I’m the…

Jerk.

What Makes You Smile?

by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

Be very, very quiet.

I’m hunting a wabbit.

Er, more specifically, I’m braising a rabbit.  An entire rabbit.

I’m going to bake this bunny into pie.

I know what you’re thinking.  You’re thinking, Michael, did you buy a frozen rabbit from the butcher, make him cut it into 1/8 pieces with his band saw, braise it, and then pull out the bones, like you would for pulled pork?

Yes.  That’s exactly what I did.  I braised it with scallions, onions, and celery.

Yes.  I feel bad about it.  But only because today is opposite day.  (no it isn’t – I’m late by a few days – GET OFF MY BACK)

It was a special occasion.  I had a tech rehearsal for my sketch team, Thunder Gulch.  We put up a new show every month on the first Monday.  It’s hard work, and I usually bake something simple for tech rehearsals, because they’re long and arduous.

But this one was more like a party.  It was Shannon O’Neil’s  birthday, first of all.  And then secondly – one of my team mates (he’s shy and doesn’t want me to say his name)  was offered a job as a writer on the Daily Show with Jon Stewart.  Both of those people are actors on my team, so it was party time.

My friend Kris came over.  He helped me braise the bunny and bake it into 20 miniature pies.  I’ve known him for almost a year now.  He’s got a good head on his shoulders and he learns stuff quickly.  Also, in case you don’t have eyes, he’s super cute.  So pretty.

So, this is the first time I’ve tried to make mini-pies.  There’s about 15 people involved in making Thunder Gulch happen every month – 6 actors, 7 writers, a director and a tech person.  I wanted to make at least 20 pies.  I wanted there to be more pie than people could eat.  Usually that doesn’t happen if I make a single pie for 15 peeps.

I braised the rabbit etc at a reasonable temperature.  400 maybe?  I don’t remember.  I don’t cook my pie fillings from recipes, I just go by instinct.

We added potato after the bunny had braised for a few hours in its own juice.

My butcher said it would thicken up the filling without using cornstarch or a butter roux.  He was right.

For good measure, flavor, and texture, I also added some collard and turnip greens i was making for this week’s lunches.

Give them some fiber, right?  Let the funny idiots have a little fiber, I say.

Look at that guy.  What an idiot. But not a constipated idiot.

Fiber.

(Not-Opposite Day:  Get your fiber, guys)

Me:  Come on, Kris – you’re the boss.  You’re the boss of that bunny.  Get that meat off the bone.  Pull it.

Him:  I just want to do it right.

Me:  Okay, but quickly, huh?  Aren’t there sweat-shop workers in your family?  Aren’t you Chinese?

Him:  Great.  A sweat shop joke.  Made by a white person.  Just what the world needs.  More of that.

Me:  Touche.  I shall think of a good poop joke.

There was a carefully staged spill!!!  We got some bunny bits on the floor!!

Kris was nice enough to clean it up.

Look at those socks.  Cute.

So, Kris is currently working on a really cool project for his thesis.

He wants to know What Makes You Smile?

Him: Smiling is one of those innate reactions in human life. This isn’t to say that happiness is the only reason why we smile, in fact, it isn’t. There are an infinite amount of reasons to smile and there are various types of a smile. I am fascinated, however, by what makes others smile. The kind of smile I am looking for is a Duchenne smile, or simply put a genuine smile. I see this thesis as a way of being able to change someone’s life by simply talking to them. In a world where digital interaction is on the rise and physical declining, the act of having a conversation in-person can be seen as refreshing. By asking people I have never met “what makes you smile?” an unfamiliar experience is made which can then inspire those to talk to those around them and re-create the experience.

Um.  Isn’t that the nicest thing you’ve ever heard?

You should contact him, and get interviewed.  Unless you’re too cool for that sort of thing.  You’re probably too cool for that.  You’ll probably hang around on Data Lounge all day complaining about stuff that doesn’t matter, instead.

Well, as long as you’re having fun. That’s my philosophy.

No, scratch that.  That’s not my philosophy.  I’m pretty sure the Columbine kids were having fun.  And Stalin.  He had a blast.  Manson was a good time Charlie.

New philosophy:  Don’t have any fun, if you’re an online hater.  Just hate.  It’s what you do.  It’s who you are.  Have fun!  (Opposite Day)

Anywhore.

Contact Kris, if you want to interview with him about what makes you smile.

Contact me if you want to hear sweatshop and poop jokes.

Or if you have a question you’d like me to answer.  Like, should you leave your  boyfriend?  Or, why does your younger brother act homophobic around you?  Or, how can you smile through dinner (and serve pie) when your condescending hipster friends say things like ‘you should put that in your comedy routine?’

Reminder:  Poop comes from my butt.  It’s where half of my sex happens too.  (The other half happens in YOUR butt).

Calm down.  WE WASHED OUR DIRTY GAY HANDS FIRST.

(Opposite Day – we never wash our hands because we’re filthy homos!!)

Kris liked tidy little flat top pies.  I favored bulging, abundant ones.

We put an egg wash on top of them and sprinkled with coarse sea-salt.

We spiced the filling with French Tarragon and Cumin.

What’s that hater?  Those two spices don’t work well together?  You’re wrong.  Go fuck yourself.

(Opposite Day – no sex for you.)

Big thanks to Thunder Gulch for a great tech rehearsal and a great show last night.  Big thanks to Kris Louie for helping me with these 20 pies – THEY TOOK FOREVER!!!

Big thanks to the Data Lounge for being massive Jerks this weekend.

As for the rest of you?  I love you all and don’t think you’re Jerks.

(Opposite Day)

SaturDATE: Vinny’s Deli

by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

Him:  My friends say I’m self absorbed but I don’t think I am.  I just like focusing on myself, and what I’m doing, and I get wrapped up in it to the extent that I don’t notice other people.

Me:  That doesn’t sound self absorbed at all.

Him:  You’re an idiot.

Me:  You’re adorable.  Hey, let’s duck into this deli.  I want some coffee.

Him:  Okay.

Vinnie:  Hey, Mike!!!  What-a can I a get for you?

Me:  I’ll have a large coffee – milk, no sugar.

Vinnie:  And-a you friend?

Him:  I’m good.  Unless.  Do you carry Four Loko?

Me:  He’s kidding.  You’re kidding, right?

Him:  Jerk –  It’s the middle of the afternoon.  You’re not the only funny person in the world.

(I smile.  I love when people call me a Jerk now.  I also consider that he might be right: There might be other funny people in the world.  Nah.)

Me:  Just the coffee, please.

Vinny:  Comin’ right up.

(Another Customer enters.  He’s clearly old friends with Vinny.)

Another Customer:  A!!!!!!!   O!!!!!!!!  Look who it is!!!  It’s Vinny.  Vinny the fuckin’ HOMO!!!

(Vinny is not a homosexual.  He has a wife and children who I am well acquainted with.  His deli is next door to my apartment and I’ve been going there for years.)

Vinny:  You are!!!!  You a fuckin’ HOMO!!!

Another Customer:  You!!!  You’re the fuckin’ HOMO.

Vinny:  All the dick you suck, and you think-a I’m a HOMO???

(Pleasegivememycoffeepleasegivememycoffeepleasegivememycoffee)

Vinny:  Hey-a Mike!  You think-a I’m a big HOMO?  Or this-a guy?

Another Customer:  Yeah!  Who’s a bigger faggot, me or him?

(Long pause.  I consider saying something diplomatic.  I consider just walking out.  Instead:)

Me:  Why don’t we try this?  Why don’t you two bend over and pull your pants down?  Then, I’ll take turns fucking you both and we’ll see which one enjoys it more?  Then we’ll know who’s a bigger HOMO!!!!  A!!!!!  O!!!!!!  On second thought, maybe I’ll just take my coffee and continue on my date with this attractive, polite young man, since you two are both dumpy, middle aged idiots.  Capiche?

(Silence.  I pay for my coffee.  There is a long pause.)

Me:  Now is where you tell me to have a nice day.

Vinny:  Have a nice day.

Me:  Thank you. O!!!!!!

Surprise Ending!!!  I’m never going back to that deli!  It’s the closest and most convenient to my house, and I won’t ever set foot in there again!  I’m not humorless and I know Vinny was joking, but I still won’t do it!  I don’t need that energy in my life and I don’t need to associate with people that put that energy out into the world.  I don’t wish him ill, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to send his kids to college with my candy bar money.

P.S.  The rest of the date went really well.  He’s so sweet and cute, and kind!  You can’t let someone steal your joy, kids.  Don’t let your whole day get ruined just because of the actions of one –

Jerk.

Tuesdate:

by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

Him:  So here he is. 

Me:  So here HE is.  Look at you, small drink of water.

Him:  STOP IT.

Me:  I mean it.  You’re gorgeous. Better than your pics online.

Him:  Isn’t Grindr weird?

Me:  I kind of think it’s amazing.  It’s like Chat Roulette, but in person.  You never know what you’re going to get.

Him:  Believe me.  I know.

Me:  That sounded ominous.

Him:  I’ve met some real creeps.

Me:  I’ve met jerks and nice people.  No real creeps.

Him: Maybe that’s because you’re the creep?

Me:  Nice.  I tell you you’re pretty, twice, and you imply that I’m a creep.  You should write a book on dating.

Him:  Uh oh.  Am I one of your online Jerks?

Me:  Are you?

(pause)

Him:  No.

Me:  Well there it is.

(pause)

Him:  Anyway, who keeps score?

Me: Of what?

Him:  Of that sort of stupid stuff?  Compliments and whatnot. 

Me:  Obviously I do.  I just demonstrated that I do.

(pause)

Me:  Relax.  I might be joking, you know…  I might just still think you’re an attractive little wonder, at 5’6”.

Him:  Stop saying little.  I don’t like to feel little.

(i’m feeling brave, and so i take a step toward him.  i put my face next to his.  i can feel the breath come out of my nose against his cheek.  he smells spicy.  like cinnamon or ginger, but not quite those things. )

Me:  What about now?  Do you feel little now?

Him:  Yes.

(i put my hands on his ribcage and squeeze gently.  the hair stands up on my arms.  i have goosebumps)

Me: But don’t you kind of feel really powerful?

Him:  Yes.

Me:  You’re pretty.

Him:  Ugh.

(he moves away)

Me:  Haha…  okay.  So, no saying you’re little, and I’m guessing – no ‘pretty’ either?

Him:  Why not handsome?  Why can’t I be handsome?

Me:  You can.  You are.  You’re very handsome.  You’re also pretty.

Him:  Ugh.

Me:  Well the good news is: I like pretty.  So dry your eyes on that.

Him:  You’re cute. 

Me: Compliment number one.

Him:  What?

Me:  That’s the first compliment you ever gave me, in person.

Him:  Oh great.  How far behind am I?

Me:  Only a few, but I’d rather stay ahead in the compliment game, if you don’t mind?

Him:  Why? 

Me:  I’d rather you owed me.

Him:  What??

Me:  It’s a thing that my grandfather says.  I used to borrow money from him, sometimes, at the store to get comic books.  I would ask to borrow five dollars.  He would give it to me.  When I got my allowance I’d try to pay it back, and he would say ‘No, I’d rather you owed me.’  Then he would smirk, as if he’d just told the funniest joke in the world.

Him:  That’s cute.

Me:  It’s infuriating.  He’d smirk at me, here and there, for the next few weeks, and I knew he was thinking ‘You owe me five bucks and it really bothers you, and I love that.’  He was right, too.  It was exactly what I was thinking.

Him: That’s cute.  He sounds pretty awesome. 

Me:  He’s a good man.  For sure.

Him:  Can I ask you a question?

Me:  No.

Him:  What?

Me:  Sorry.  That was supposed to be funny.  I said no, when the only appropriate answer was yes.  I thought it would be funny.

Him:  Was it?

Me:  Yes, but you’ll just have to trust me.  You didn’t see your face when I said it.  It was funny.

Him:  I guess I’ll have to believe you.

Me:  Good.  Because I’m lying.

Him:  What??

Me:  Sorry.  That was another joke.  That one wasn’t funny.  I get nervous and act like an idiot.

Him:  You make it charming, somehow. 

Me:  You didn’t know me in college.

Him:  Were you different?

Me:  I was nearly insufferable.

Him:  You’re pretty too.

Me:  Shucks.  Okay.  That’s two for you.  Fuck.

(long pause)

Him:  You’re not some sort of creepy Rice Queen, are you?

Me:  Uh…  I mean..  I thought that was obvious?  You’ve been to my website, right?

Him:  Yeah.  There’s lots of Asians. 

Me:  But not ALL Asians, right?  I like a lot of things.  A lot of people.  I like kind people.  Asians are kind, frequently, if you’re kind to them.

Him:  I guess that’s not so creepy.  I guess that’s okay for Asians.

Me:  Yeah.  Well I forgot to say:  I feed on their tears.  Keeps me young.  I’m like a succubus, or a psychic vampire of some sort.  I’m 183 years old.  I make them cry and then drink their salty tears.  But it only works with Asians.

Him:  Really? 

Me:  Yes.  And did you also know that Black people can levitate?  They’re hiding it from you.

(long pause.  he starts laughing a lot)

Him:  You’re joking! 

Me:  Yes.  And you’re laughing.  That means…..

Him:  What does that mean? 

Me:  It means, you get a kiss, if you want one, later.

Him:  I’ll decide later if I do.

Me: Oh.  I. Like. That.

Him:  Really?

Me:  No.  It’s infuriating.   I’d rather you owed me one.

(we kept talking and walking.  later, he gave me a quick kiss.  it was a good kiss.)

He’s not a jerk…

But you are.  Come on.  You know you are.

SaturDATE

by piefolk, posted in Uncategorized

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.

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.  It’s getting hard to contain ourselves.  Get it?)

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?

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.  I 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.)