You’re Welcome

lex millena

Him: Wow. You’re a busy guy.

Me: You’re busy too! It took us months to find some common time. You look good, by the way.

Him: You’re welcome.

Me: Haha. Thanks for looking so good.

Him: I told you – you’re welcome.

Me: So you did. You said you had a doctor’s appointment?

Him: Sort of. Chiropractor.

Me: I agree.

Him: With what?

Me: A Chiropractor is a ‘sort of’ doctor.

Him: Stop! I really like my Chiropractor.

Me: Hm. Got a little crush on him?

Him: Shut up. He’s such a bro, though.

Me: Bro?

Him: Yeah. He’s a ‘hey bro’ type of guy.

Me: I gather you love that.

Him: Yeah, that’s why I play in the gay sports leagues. I like bromance.

Me: You’re hilarious.

Him: I’m worried though.

Me: Why?

Him: He said that he was going to cancel our appointment next week. He doesn’t think I need to see him every single week.

Me: Isn’t that good news?

Him: What? No! It means he’s breaking up with me.

Me: That’s hilarious. Do you really  think that?

Him: What else could it mean?

Me: That you’re getting better?

Him: Yeah, maybe… See – I’m neurotic.

Me: Only a little. Still – that does seem like a Seinfeld plot.

Him: What does?

Me: My Chiropractor Is Breaking Up With Me. Sounds like a Seinfeld episode.

Him: Who watches Seinfeld?

Me: Comedy nerds?

Him: Do you know comedy nerds?

Me: I kind of am one.

Him: Comedy nerds don’t look like you.

Me: You’re welcome?

Him: What?

Me: I was repeating your joke from earlier. Never mind.


Me: You’re thinking about your chiropractor, aren’t you?

Him: It’s just, why wouldn’t he want to see me every week? My insurance pays for it.

Me: Listen, if I was being paid an exorbitant amount of money every week to give you a back rub, I’d totally schedule more appointments – not less. Who is this guy?

Him: You’re sweet. Maybe you should be my chiro.

Me: I’m available. I’m only a few hundred dollars an hour.

Him: It’s really bothering me, though.

Me: Would you say you care about other people’s opinions too much?

Him: Yes! I’m totally neurotic about what people think of me.

Me: Oh no. That must suck.

Him: It does. I’m worried about what you’re thinking about me right now.

Me: I’m thinking you’re adorable.

Him: You’re welcome.

Me: Thank you.


Me: I think I have the opposite problem…

Him: How so?

Me: I think I don’t care enough what people think of me.

Him: Really?

Me: Yeah. I’m super self absorbed. I had an improv teacher once say “The only absolute in life is your own opinion.” That stuck with me over the years, maybe too much.

Him: That’s a good quote though. I wish I could think that way.

Me: I do think that way, but I wonder if I might be a little bit more successful if I desperately needed to please other people.

Him: Maybe it’s more about you.

Me: Hm?

Him: Do you please yourself, ever?

Me: I’m happy with certain things. Milestones, or accomplishments. But even when I do a really good job in a show or at an audition, I still feel mildly dissatisfied.

Him: Maybe that’s the trick – pleasing yourself.

Me: That’s a very astute observation.

Him: We should order. I want oysters.

Me: This restaurant is great, by the way. You made a good selection.

Him: You’re welcome.

Hate Mail: Part Two

photos by eryc perez de tagle 

This is a continued post from a hate letter I got a while back.  Enjoy, Jerks.

Him:  Well, what you consider funny, without all the context, comes off as kind of dickish. I get it, you’re trying to be a seinfeldesque sarcastic New Yorker. Thing is, that’s not how we really are. You’re just acting as a caricature of what you think a New Yorker is, it makes us all look bad, and I don’t like it.

Me:  Well, then, you better look away buddy, because I’m not going anywhere.  I’m just writing about things I find interesting.  Granted, most of the time those things are heart-wrenching private moments, or awkward dates I go on.  I don’t think that it much resembles Seinfeld, but thanks for the compliment.

I’m just using my blog to process weird things that happen to me.

If I make all New Yorkers look bad in the process, bonus.

Him:  The couple of encounters I read about did strike a chord with me, and yes, negatively. I get the impression that you’re painting a picture of a snide gay man, and that’s another thing I don’t like. I know so many people who are gay, but are so turned off towards participating in the gay community because they feel they are constantly getting scrutinized and judged by everyone around them.

Me:  I don’t think I’m being all that snide.  I’m respectful and friendly to my dates.  I give them a lot of leeway.  I just happen to call it out if they act particularly self-absorbed or insensitive.  And hey, if they’re funny or charming about it – I make out with them anyway.  I don’t reveal who they are, so I’m not sure what the crime is, exactly, in talking about them.

So you think the Gay community scrutinizes and judges?  Sort of like, what you’re doing, right now – writing to a total stranger, and telling him why you don’t like him?

I can see how there could stand to be less of that in the Gay community.  Good point.

Him:  I’ve had some unusual encounters too, but when it reaches the point where I’m not comfortable anymore, I say “well, I’m going to go now, goodbye,” and I walk away. I don’t sit there and ridicule the person I have no interest in for my own personal entertainment.

Me:  I don’t sit there and ridicule the person either.  I take notes on their terrible behavior, so I can report it back to the snide, judgmental Gay internet.  Jeez.  You have a lot to learn if you’re going to start a Seinfeldian Gay pie blog, mister.

Him:  What I’m implying is either take it or leave it when it comes to living here. I’ve lived here my whole life, and I love it. There’s never a dull moment here, and so many people are here just for the sake of being here, that they forget just how awesome this city is. Yes, there are people from all walks of life here, you’re going to have to deal with that. Someone has to make the subway sandwiches for you, right?

Me:  Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz….  what?  Is it my turn to respond?  I fell asleep…  Sorry.  Something was really boring the shit out of me, but i swear it wasn’t your banal platitudes.  It was something else.  I promise.

Are you really bringing up the Subway sandwich guy?  He pulled his dick out in the park and talked a bunch of ‘sup bro’ shit at me.  Sorry, kiddo, but I’m going to make fun of that.

Yes I am.

Him:  I think what it all comes down to is that I’ve run out of patience with the whole hipster thing. I assume by the thick rimmed glasses, you’re part of that sub-culture too. I think what it all comes down to is that previous generations said “I’m going to do whatever I can to not be like my parents.” Whereas this generation is trying to be EXACTLY like their parents. I mean, WTF? Why bother living if you aren’t going to even try to blaze your own path. How many other “20 – 35 somethings” in Williamsburg are comedians, or actors, or making a blog about their horribly average lives but giving it a slant to make it more appealing, or sell artisan food products out of their apartment, do you get what I’m saying? I don’t care much for being ostracized by people because I choose not to bake for a living. This subculture should have lasted for about a week, but it’s become this utterly annoying thing that’s got way too big to manage, and now they’re sitting in a park in Manhattan, telling me how I’m supposed to feel about the government. No thanks.

Me:  Ouch.  That part really hit home.  I guess when you think about it, I AM trying to be just like my parents.  They both have pie blogs where they talk about awkward Gay dates.  I’m so derivative.

Hey.  I’m sorry for ostracizing you because you don’t bake.  I’ve been doing that for years.  Since elementary school – bullying kids who don’t have perfectly flaky crusts.  Oh man, the football players in my rural high school that cried when I criticized their croissants – but I had to!!  I had to sit on top of this baking heirarchy that excludes salt of the earth people like you.

Now look what you’ve done:  I’m crying in the lap of my rather handsome young baking helper.  I hope you’re satisifed.  You really held up a mirror and showed me who I really am.

I mean, you could have just walked away, and never gone to my site again, but you didn’t.  You did everyone a favor and lobbed a bunch of super weak criticisms at me.

You’ll never believe this, but I had a good time answering this letter.  You really made my day.  Thanks for writing in.