Letters

Imagephoto: roger wingfield

Hi.  I searched.  I read.

It was funny, offbeat, intriguing.  A lot of it.  But I’m wondering if it’s okay to say there was something troubling in there as well? 

I was reading the letter to you from Kevin bemoaning the racist attitudes he encounters among gay men.  You were – justifiably – sensitive to his concerns and gave a mostly reasoned response.  That disturbed me in his letter were the ageist comments, especially given that he was complaining about people stereotyping Asians.  I felt sad that he needed to stereotype older men.  What was more troubling was your compounding of those stereotypes in your response to him (“weirdos who are decades older”). 

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It’s a destructive image that plays itself out in sites like Grindr, where some men make assumptions merely based on age, with no other facts to back up those assumptions.

You seem like a thoughtful person.  I doubt you really believe that all older men are ‘weirdos’ or ‘creepy’ or that all weirdos are actually older men.  So, I’d just ask you to be as thoughtful in how you address ageism as your are in addressing racism.

Thanks for listening.

A.Y.

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Hey A.Y.,

Thanks for reading, and thanks for writing in.

You’ve brought up a very valid point, and given me quite a bit to think about.

I’d like to clarify that I never said that all older men are creepy or weird.  I said that I had been hit on by creepy weirdos who were decades older than me.  I’ve also been hit on my creepy weirdos my own age, and jerks who are much younger than me.  Also, I’m sure that at some point, to someone, I’ve been the creepy weirdo.

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I’m not going to be dismissive of your point – that Kevin’s letter had some ageist sentiments, or that by sympathizing with him on certain points I appear to condone ageism.  That certainly wasn’t my intent, even if it came off that way.  I don’t condone ageism.

I think that we, as a gay community, could certainly stand to exhibit more tolerance, sensitivity, and kindness toward each other.   I’m sorry if Kevin’s letter (or my response) offended or hurt your feelings in any way.  That wasn’t my goal.  I can’t speak for Kevin, but I’ve corresponded with him a bit, and he’s a bright, kind fellow – I don’t think he was trying to hurt people when he penned his letter.

ImageThis does, however, lead me to my secondary point.  Intent.

Kevin expressed to me, in an email, that he’s tired of ‘creepy guys… that are older’ hitting on him all the time.  I agree with you, that it might come off as an insensitive, ageist statement – but I don’t think his intent was to be hurtful. He was just expressing frustration in an email to me.  If anything, I’m to blame, for making it public on my site, and seeming to sympathize in my response.

I think there’s a difference between that, and making ‘ching chong’ jokes in public, to someone’s face, because you’re mortified that an Asian tried to talk to you.  The difference being intent.  When you do that, you’re purposefully trying to be hurtful – and I think that’s kind of evil.

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This dialogue is very helpful, A.Y..  You’ve certainly given me pause. We could stand to examine ageism in the gay community, and I do think we could better police the offhanded remarks we make, especially in public and on the internet. I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings.

If I were to substitute race for age, I’d be uncomfortable making a similar statement. “I get hit on my a bunch of creepy weird Asians,” probably wouldn’t fly.

Even so – this last bit of observation begs an entirely more frivolous question:

Where are the creepy weird Asians when you need them?

(Seriously – get at me.  Jerks.)

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Delusions

photos by tri vo

Me:  Really?  What’s that like?

Him:  It’s super boring.  A lot of filing permits.  Tons of paperwork.

Me:  That’s not what I imagine.

Him:  I know.  Everyone thinks there’s all this designing and drawing and overseeing a workforce, but it’s 90% paperwork.

Me:  Even so that’s a sexy profession.  Architect.

Him:  Ha…  Thanks.  So what do you do?

Me:  Oh boy.

Him:  What?

Me:  This is where it usually goes horribly wrong.

Him:  What?  Shut up.  What do you do for a living?

Me:  I freelance.

Him:  Doing what, dummy?

Me:  I do comedy gigs, and I teach improv, and I do freelance writing.

Him:  Oh my God, that’s so cool.

Me:  What?

Him:  I love comedy.  I think that’s so cool.

Me:  No you don’t.

Him:  I don’t?

Me:  No.  People usually get defensive and annoyed when I tell them I’m a comic.

Him:  Really? 

Me:  Eh.  I’ve met a lot of jerk-o’s.

Him:  Well, I think it’s cool.

Me:  Well I think you’re cool Mister Architect.

Him:  Thanks… 

(pause)

Him:  Is the entertainment business difficult?

Me:  Yeah.  I guess it is, kind of.

Him: You have to have all that talent.

Me:  Hahahahahahaha!

Him:  What?

Me:  I dunno.  That struck me as funny.

Him: What did?

Me:  You don’t need talent to succeed in showbiz.

Him:  Hahaha, what are you talking about?  Of course you do!

Me:  Not in my experience.  I mean, don’t get me wrong, talent helps, and it always seems to surprise people when someone has it.  But, I wouldn’t say you need it to be in showbiz.

Him:  You’re joking.

Me:  Not at all.

Him:  Well what do you need?

Me:  Tenacity.  Drive.  Ambition.

Him:  Really?  You don’t need talent?

Me:  Look at Anna Paquin.

Him:  Stop!  I love True Blood.

Me:  Sure, but can you say that she’s talented?

Him:  Stop.  She’s likable.

Me:  Well that’s different than talent.  That helps a lot.  So does being good at politics.  Showing up on time.  Cultivating the image of being a reliable, hard worker.  Not being crazy.  That helps too.

Him:  Interesting.  What’s the most important thing an artist can have?

Me:  Hm….

(pause)

Me:  Delusions.

Him:  WHAT??

Me:  That’s the most important thing an artist can have.  That and tenacity.

Him: Explain.

Me:  How are you going to be a movie star without having the crazy delusion that you could somehow be a movie star?

Him:  Hm…  that does make sense, actually…

Me:  How are you going to write an opera, without the delusional belief that you could move people with your music?

Him:  But isn’t passion something that wells up inside you?  Isn’t that what great artists do?  Get fired up and inspired and let out all their passions?

Me:  I guess so, but doesn’t it sound delusional that someone else might take notice?  Also, that kind of inspiration happens every once in a while, but otherwise it’s usually just hard work.  Plugging away, day after day.  Tenacity.

Him:  Hm.  

Me:  What?

Him:  We’ve both got the same point of view, then, about our respective professions…

Me:  Which is what?

Him:  That it’s 90% paper work.

Me:  Hahaha!  Yeah I guess we do.

Him:  Can I buy you another drink?

(pause)

Me:  Yeah.  Yeah, I think you can.

Shit Girls Say About Money

Imagewatercolors by lex millena

I shot a parody commercial last week.  It makes fun of the Shit Girls Say videos.

My friend Kirk Damato is in it with me. Here’s the link.  I dunno why I can’t embed it today.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9oz77m-ilXE&feature=player_detailpage

Enjoy, jerks.

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FriDATE: Not Going to Lie

Him: So, I’ve noticed something.

Me:  What’s that?

Him: Just that things are different this time.  You’re behaving differently this time around.

Me:  Oh, no…  it’s not –

Him:  And I’m not going to lie…

Me:  Are you sure?

Him:  What?

Me:  I was hoping we might lie to one another.

Him:  You’re an idiot.  I was going to say that I’d be lying if I didn’t notice your change in attitude this visit, and in all honesty, I’ve been linking it to my own negative feelings about myself…

Me:  What?

Him:  Just…  It’s been making me feel unattractive, or inadequate otherwise.  Which is CRAZY, Michael.  Just crazy.  Everyone  loves my personality.

Me:  Myself included.  You’re a great guy.  Very fun, and funny and super attractive.  Don’t do that to yourself.

Him:  I don’t know how else to explain this distance I feel from you.

Me:  I’m doing this to everyone these days.  I’m sorry.  Look, I’ve been feeling pretty depressed lately, and somehow that’s making me withdraw from quite a few people.  I’m sorry.  It has nothing to do with you.   You’re very attractive and all, but I just don’t feel like being physical right now.  With anyone.  I’m not sure what’s wrong with me….

Him:  If you wind up committing suicide can I have your ukulele?

Me:  Of course you can.  Not the big one that I play onstage, but the smaller one that I use for composing – sure.

Him:  Thanks.

Me:  BUT.  Only if it’s a suicide.  If I die of natural causes you get nothing.

Him:  Of course.  I understand.

Me:  Look.  I’m sorry I haven’t been as physical with you as I was before, but I’m really glad you’re here.  You’ve been a lot of fun, and I’ve had a good time with you.

Him:  Me too.

Me:  Good.

Him:  Hey.   Don’t freak out, but I love you, okay?  Not in some grandiose romance movie sort of way, but just in the way that I know I’ll care about you for my whole life, and that I hope to have a very close friendship with you.

Me:  Okay.  I feel the same way.  I have a whole lot of fondness and respect for you, and hey…

Him:  What?

Me:  I think you’re funny.

Him:  So are you.

Me:  Okay then.

Him:  Thanks for chatting.

Me:  Should we play some Skyrim?

Him:  YES!!

Me:  Okay, but don’t go around pickpocketing people in broad daylight, or attack the town guards just to get a rise out of them.

Him:  Callista does what she wants.  She’s a renegade.

Me:  You’re impossible.

Him:  You’re a jerk.

Me:  I know.

 

Hate Mail: Part One

pie photos by eryc perez de tagle

Him:  Hey, out of curiosity, I read a little of your blog, and I’d like to know how everyone BUT you can be a jerk when you end up saying some pretty inconsiderate things.  Yea, I know, the world has a few assholes in it, but why spread the bitterness, and then publicly post these conversations as if to reassure yourself that your side of the experience was the good side.  All I’m saying, is if you wanted a normal, safe place to live, where people behave accordingly, you shouldn’t have come to Brooklyn, or NYC for that matter.

Me:  I don’t think that everyone but me is a Jerk.  I don’t think I’m too inconsiderate, too often, but then again I think I’m being funny all the damn time.

You really think I’m spreading bitterness?  That’s interesting.  Most people contact me with the opposite reaction to my posts.  I’m not trying to reassure myself that I’m on the good side of anything – I’m just using my blog as an outlet to process jarring, awkward, or cringe-worthy things that happen to me, sometimes.

I guess it’s great that you’ve contacted me with your feedback?  Thanks?  Certainly I’m glad to know I’ve struck a chord with you, and that even if your reaction to my writing is negative – it’s resonating somewhere inside you.

Feel that?  It’s me.  Resonating.  Deep inside you.

But hey – are you really trying to imply that I should get out of New York if I don’t like this type of treatment?

Did you contact me just to tell me you don’t like me?  Interesting choice.

In any case, thanks for reading.

Jerk.

FriDATE: I Love You

Him:  I love this place.

Me:  I know.  It’s gonna be hard, not having coffee here when you go back to Chicago, right?

Him:  I can’t believe I stayed here the whole five days.  I was supposed to play it cool, stay with friends a night or two…

(pause)

Me:  Oh.  No.

Him:  What?

Me:  Oh man.  Look at that couple that just walked in.

Him:  Do you know them?

Me:  Uh.  No.  But I can’t stand them.

Him:  I’m sorry? 

Me:  This happens to me only rarely.  Sometimes I decide that I don’t like someone based solely on observing them for an extended period of time.

Him:  OH!  Yeah, I think I know what you’re talking about.  What did these two do?

Me:  You know, I can’t say, exactly.  It’s just….  them.  I’ve seen them all over the neighborhood lately.  I’d never seen them before and then they started popping up everywhere, turning their noses up at things…

Him:  You’re talking about the Gay couple that just walked in?

Me:  Uh.  Yes…  Do you see anyone else snootily turning their noses up at everything?

Him:  Hm.  Good point.

Me:  Watch them.   They’ll be perfectly friendly, but they’ll have a snotty, snide air the whole time.  They’re even worse on the train, when they’re not on good behavior.

Him:  This is good behavior?

Me:  Apparently.  Look at the tall one.  He’s the worst.  The smaller one, the red head, would be okay on his own, but together they’re this big, palpable, Gay nuisance.

Him:  I agree.  The red head is simply beady-eyed, and untrustworthy.   But the taller one, he just oozes sarcasm and punishing Gay hipster irony. 

Me:  Yes.  Somebody was mean to him in high school, and now he’s making up for it by cunting all over younger, more impressionable art Fags.  Uh oh…

Him:  What?

Me:  It’s occurring to me that we’re as bad as them.  We’re being as judgmental as we imagine them to be.

Him:  Don’t say that!  We can’t be as awful as them.  We at least control our facial expressions.

Me:  True enough, the taller, more stork-like one walks around all day with a scrunched up scowl.

Him:  As if he’s constantly smelling bad cheese.

Me:  HA.  Exactly.

Him:  Safe to say, we don’t know them but we hate them.

Me:  Ha.  Okay.  Oh.

Him:  What?

Me:  Speaking of love and hate.

Him:  Yes?

Me:  Last night…  when i was boning you…

Him:  Oh no.  I thought you missed that! I thought you didn’t notice.

Me:  Uh.  People notice stuff like that.

Him:  DON’T.  It was a syntax error, if anything.

Me:  I think you mean scansion.  It didn’t scan the way you intended.

Him:  So embarrassing.  Why would you bring this up now?

Me:  Hey, it’s not every day that someone you’ve known for a week says ‘I love you,’ while you’re having sex.

Him:  I said:  “I love you inside me.”

Me:  You said ‘I love you,’ and then a long pause, and then you said,’ inside me.’

(long pause)

Me:  It’s okay.  I thought it was cute.  I was like ‘aw…  he’s having I love you fantasies.’

Him:  No, that’s not it.  It was feeling really good, and I meant to say I love you inside me, but in the middle of the sentence i got caught up in what was going on.  It was just a mistake.

Me:  Hey.  I am just breaking your balls.  I know it wasn’t a love confession.  If anything I thought it was cute.

Him:  Okay.   That’s good to know. 

(pause)

Him:  Oh, look at them now.  Looks like the storky one doesn’t like his pastry.

Me:  Oh NO!!  His Sunday afternoon is ruined!!

Him:  Whatever will he DO??

Me:  He’ll have to be content with his own sense of self satisfaction.  It will have to suffice.

Him:  Somehow, I think it will.

Me:  Hey, can I say something?

Him:  Okay.

Me:  I really love you.

(long pause)

Me:  When you make fun of people with me.

Him:  You’re such a jerk.

Me:  You’re right.  I am.

WednesDATE

erwin caluya

Him:  Thanks for coming.

Me:  Sure, why not?  I’m staying in the neighborhood – apartment sitting.

Him:  I have a huge apartment.

Me:  Great.  I’m staying in a pretty nice apartment myself.  High rise, on the waterfront.  Pretty swanky.

erwin caluya

Him:  My apartment is huge, and I have a huge kitchen. It’s pretty much the best apartment I’ve ever seen in Brooklyn.

Me:  That’s great news.  Good for you.

Him:  Yeah, I pretty much have the whole space to myself, even though I have a few roommates.  One of them is constantly out of town and the place is so huge that It’s almost like I live there alone.

Me:  That’s really great.  Congrats.

Him:  Yeah.  It’s pretty awesome.

Me:  Sounds like it.

Him:  Believe me.  It is.

Me:  I don’t disbelieve you.

allison michael orenstein

Him:  Okay.  Well…  Hey.  You’re cuter in person.  You’re way cuter in person.

Me:  Am I?

Him:  Yeah, it’s always a plus when the guy is cuter in person instead of busted.

Me:  Oh.  Thank you.  Thanks so much.  That’s…  nice of you to say?

Him:  Do you like football?

Me:  I don’t really follow it.  I was in the marching band in high school, but admittedly I never learned the rules.

Him:  Basically each team has four tries to move the ball ten yards.

Me:  That seems reasonable.

Him:  It’s harder than it looks.  So you’re a cook?

Me:  I am.  I have a blog.

Him:  Oh, I know.

Me:  Oh?

Him:  Yes.  You inspired me.  I was cooking naked too, until my roommates bought me an apron.   My apron says Will Cook for Sex – isn’t that funny?

eryc perez de tagle

Me:  Er, sure…. how long have you been at this bar?

Him:  Few hours.

Me:  Ah ha…

Him:  I’ve had a few, but I’m not wasted.  Believe me.

Me:  I believe you.

Him:  What part?

Me:  That you’ve had a few.

Him:  Do you want a beer?

Me:  No.  I had a boozy weekend.  I better just behave myself.

Him:  I like to butcher my own meat.

Me:  What?

Him:  I like to butcher my own meat.

Me:  Seriously?

Him:  Yeah.  I go to Chinatown and I buy meats from the stores.  It’s cheaper, for instance, if you buy a whole rabbit and then butcher it yourself.

Me:  Oh man.  That sounds macabre. 

Him:  It’s not.  You just put on some inspiring music and then separate the fur from the flesh, and then the flesh from the bones.  Then you render the fat.  I’m a big fan of cooking things in animal fat.

Me:  Me too.  I made a quiche recently with duck fat.

Him:  I hear that makes a great quiche.

Me:  So you just put on some music, and butcher a rabbit?

Him:  Yeah.  It’s much cheaper if you butcher it yourself.

Me:  I imagine…

Him:  Just pull off the fur in strips.  You can cut some of the fat off too, and render it.

Me:  That sounds pretty intense.  My family comes from farm people, on my mother’s side, but I never had to butcher anything.  I can clean a fish, if I need to – if the knife is sharp enough.

Him:  A sharp knife is important.

Me:  Yeah.  Agreed.

Him:  So.  The Giants pretty much won.  This game is over.  

Me:  Oh.  Congrats!

Him:  I’d kiss you right here, but I’m more of a gentleman than that.

Me:  This being a rowdy straight bar, I’m inclined to thank you.

Him:  Do you want to hail a cab and go to my house?

Me:  No.  I think we’re asymmetrically  drunk from one another.

Him:  You mean, you’re sober and I’ve had lots.

Me:  I might mean that, yes.  But we can walk.  Let’s walk.

(we leave the bar)

Him:  Did I tell you how amazing my apartment is?  Oh!  There’s a cab.  Let’s take a cab ride to my apartment.

Me:  No, I don’t want to do that.  Remember, we said we were going to walk and talk just a bit.

Him: Let’s take a cab ride.

Me: I’m under the weather a little.  Plus you’re wasted and I’m not.  Better to just call it a night I think.

Him:  TAXI!!  Take this cab with me.

Me:  No.  You’re  a great listener, huh?

Him:  My friends say so.

Me:  Your friends are right…  Have a good evening…

Him:  YOU have a good evening.

(he kisses me on the cheek and walks away.  i’m left with an image of him, naked in his apron, skinning a rabbit)

FriDATE

Him:  Why are we doing this?

Me:  Why are we doing what?

Him:  Why am I here?

Me:  Good question.  Why are you here?  Because I make good lunches, maybe?

Him:  Shut up.  No.  I mean, yes, you do, but no.

Me:  I miss you.  You come over because we miss each other.

Him:  (silence)

Me:  How’s everything?

Him:  The same.  I’m working.  Different projects.

Me:  What projects?

Him:  Readings…  Showcases…  That sort of stuff…

Me:  That’s great.  It’s great that you’re busy…

Him:  Thanks.  You’re busy too, huh?

Me:  Yeah.  The show is going well, and it seems to be striking a chord with people.

Him:  I’ll say…

Me:  Oh no.  Right.  Sorry…

(pause)

Me:  Thanks for coming, anyway…  I know that was hard to watch.

Him:  Heh.  That’s an understatement.

Me:  That’s not really you, or even me, though, up there.  That’s an extrapolation of feelings I had, filtered through characters I created.  It’s true and not true at the same time.  It’s just comedy.

Him:  I’ll decide what I think is funny.

Me:  I didn’t use your name.

Him:  Excuse me?

Me:  I didn’t use your full name.

(pause)

Me:  It was very big and very brave of you to come see the show.

Him:  I know.  It was hard to watch.  You’re right that it’s not exactly ‘me’ up there, but still…  there was a lot to process.  A lot going on.  A lot of old memories and feelings stirred up by watching that.

Me:  I know.  Thanks for coming to see it…

(pause)

Me:  Do you still like hugs?

Him:  Yes.

Me:  I still love you.

Him:  I still love you too.

Me:  I wish that…

Him: Shhh….  I don’t think any good can come of that.  Can’t we just hug each other and leave all the re-hashing for another time.

Me:  That sounds lovely.  Can we take our clothes off?

Him:  No.  Nice try though.

Me:  You’re welcome.

Him:  For what?

Me:  Isn’t it flattering that I still try?  After all the shit that went down between us?  I’m still trying to get up on you.

Him:  I wouldn’t say it was flattering, exactly.

Me:  Of course you wouldn’t.  You’re much too contrary to let me be right about an adjective.

Him:  Is flattering an adjective or a gerund?

Me:  Oh. My. God.

Him:  I’m just WONDERING.

(long pause.  we hold each other.  then we cry for a good long while)

Me:  I think you’re a beautiful man.

Him:  Likewise.

Me:  Can you help me with something?

Him:  What?

Me:  My doctor says I’m not having enough sex.  He’s really worried, and he says I need to have sex with pretty boys under 5 ft 8.

Him:  Haha.  Nice try.

(long pause)

Him:  Why don’t you serve lunch instead?

Me:  That’s probably a much better idea, huh?

Him:  Probably.

 

FriDATE: Flashback

(photos by Jack Slomovits)

Sometimes people ask me on dates.  They see me online.  Maybe they think I’m the answer to their life’s problems, or loneliness.  Invariably, I prove them wrong:

Him:  It’s good to see you.  Surprising.

Me:  Yeah, I never come here

Him: Yeah.  That’s why I come here.

Me:  That’s a good reason.

Him: Well, it’s good to see you , in any case.  Let’s grab a drink and catch up?

Me:  I’m not drinking, but I’ll buy you one.

Him:  Okay.  I HAVE been drinking.  But it’s good to see you.   Man, I was crazy for a while, there, wasn’t I?

Me:  We were both crazy.  I was resistive to getting close and you… were…    we were both crazy.

Him:  I’ll take a gin and tonic

Me: A gin and tonic, please.

Him:  You were crazy.  You couldn’t commit.

Me:  Well I wasn’t that crazy, was I?  I didn’t read anyone’s email.

Him:  I knew you would bring that up.

Me:  You violated my privacy.

Him: You left it open.

Me: I left the house to buy an onion to add to the dinner I was making for you.

Him:  I see you’re cooking a lot.  I’m glad to see PIEFOLK is going well.

Me:  People are responding!  Thanks.  That’s nice of you to say.

Him:  Let’s go dance.

Me:  I don’t dance.

(even so…)

Him:  WANT YOU TO MAKE. ME . FEEL.  LIKE I’M THE ONLY GIRL IN THE WORLD.  LIKE I’M THE ONLY ONE YOU’LL EVER LOVE!!!  I love Rihanna.  You never made me feel like this.  GIRL IN THE WORLD!!!

Me:  I never claimed I was going to make you feel like that.  Do you want to feel like Rihanna?

Him:  Yes.

Me:  Convienient.  I feel like slapping you.

Him:  Buy me another drink.

Me:  Do I have a choice?

(one hour later.  on the subway platform)

Me:  Wow.  That was aggressive…

Him:  What do you mean?

Me: You put me in a headlock, and ran me down the stairs toward the train tracks.

Him: One of these days I’m going to kill you.

Me:  Well not today.  I am going to walk to the other end of the platform.  It was good to see you.  I’m glad you’re dating someone new.

Him: You broke my heart.  I was always the heart breaker.

Me: I’m sorry about that.  I felt like I could never catch up.  You kept closing the gap as I choked and asked for space.  It was the wrong time for me.  I was really broken, back then.  I’m only now starting to like myself again.  But I’m glad I ran into you.  It seems like you want to be friends.

Him:  You fucking asshole.  I will NEVER be your friend!  That will NEVER HAPPEN.  You broke my heart.  I can’t be your friend.

Me:  Ironic, because I never asked you for more than a simple friendship.  Why does everyone want just one more handful than what they’re allowed?  If you really respected me, you would have listened to me when I said, don’t fall in love with me.

Him:  You worthless whore!

Me:  Oh god.  It’s a Gothic novel now?  Here?  On the subway platform? Just calm down.  We got through most of the evening already.  You’ve been drinking.

Him:  I had ten drinks.

Me: That’s a lot.  I had zero.

Him:  Why are you driven to be such a whore?  What’s wrong with you, that you couldn’t take a loving life with me.  Live together.  Raise child?

Me:  WE DATED FOR FIVE MONTHS.  Five months.  This is part of the problem.  You never stopped putting pressure.

Him:  You’re a selfish asshole.

Me:  No, actually.  You.   You’re an asshole.  We were nice to each other for about an hour and a half, and now you want to burn it to the ground.  That makes you the asshole.

Him:  You fucking slut.

Me:  You’re a drunk asshole!  You’re being a drunk asshole.

Him:  I’m not a drunk asshole.

Stranger:  You are.

(long pause)

Stranger:  Not a judgment, but you’re drunk.  Admit it.  You’re really drunk.

Him:  Get the fuck off of me.  You want to try to tell me what to do?  You stink?  What’s that on your breath?  M and M’s?  Disgusting.  Get out of my face.  I’ll destroy you.  I’ll smash you.

Me:  Knock it off.  Right.  Now.  You happy?  You impressed with yourself?  Did you belittle the man on the subway that was just trying to stick up for me??!  Are you proud that you threatened him?  That you threatened me?  I’m so impressed.  You’re right.  I totally should have bitten the bullet and moved in with you.  What a great future father for my child!!  Wow!  I really missed out!  Get on the FUCKING TRAIN.

Him:  What are you?  Taking a PICTURE?  Don’t you fucking blog me.

Surprise ending:  No break up sex.  Yes restraining order.

Just kidding about the restraining order.  Jerks.