Your Ticket to a Boyfriend?

A recent letter:  

Now that we’re into the New Year I can chalk up six straight years of tricking when I would rather have had six straight years of wedded bliss.  I just got my MBA so I even tried using a business approach to getting a boyfriend, complete with an overall marketing, advertising and public relations plan.  I swear, if my love life was a home loan it would’ve gone into forclosure.  Do you have any suggestions to make 2009 the year I break the curse and break in a boyfriend?

–  Hoping for hope 

Dear Hoping:

You can’t use corporate tactics to improve your bottom’s line.  Here’s why:  Because business strategies focus on objective, external circumstances rather than subjective, internal attitudes.  And it’s your attitude, not your strategy that will get you laid.  I mean, married.  Well, both.  Rather than using the strategies of successful businesses you’re better off using the characteristics of successful businessmen. 

 You want a wedding band?  Then pay attention to these Do’s & Don’ts (business style so you MBAs will feel at home):

Do:  Realize it takes an average of seven contacts to make the sale (translation:  Patience.  You have to plant seeds before harvesting).

Don’t:  Put a bumper sticker in your car that says, “I’m Dating Your Husband.”

 

Do:  Detach yourself from the outcome.  Business plans never say, “You’re sense of identity rests on making the sale.”

Don’t:  Wear a T-shirt with “Apartment Manager” in the front and “Unit Available” in the back.

 

Do:  Act like a business and surround yourself with teams and support.  No businessman succeeds without help from others.  Same in love.  Always go out with friends.  They offer support and a good laugh.  And smiling is a scientifically proven way of attracting people to you. 

Don’t:  Approach a guy in the bar and say, “Would you like a drink or do you just want the money?”

 

Do:  Open up new markets.  Hang out in places where relationships have a higher chance of developing.  If you’re used to clubbing, go to laid-back clubs, if you don’t play sports, start and join one of the gay clubs (the good thing about gay sports is that you’re expected to suck).

Don’t:  Tell people that your favorite song is Peaches’, “Fuck the Pain Away.”

 

Do:  Be disciplined.  Many businesses succeed simply because they never gave up.  They kept at it.  So if you join a volleyball team, go to the practices even if you don’t feel like it.  Persevere.

Don’t:  Be an ass if someone rejects you. After spending hours in a bar buying drinks for some hottie who eventually turned him down, a friend yelled, “.”  Nice.

 

Do:  Sacrifice.  All successful businesses give up short-term profits for long-term goals.  You can’t stay out till 6am whacked out on Tina, screw everything with a pulse and expect to find a boyfriend the next morning at church. 

Getting yourself a boyfriend isn’t a matter of asking yourself “What business tactics should I use?”  It’s asking, “Am I willing to change my life to achieve my goal?”  To be perfectly honest, most gay men would answer “No.”  Maybe this is the year for you to say, “Yes.”

Chinese Friendship Symbol

A recent letter:  So, my friend “Dave” told me about a year ago that he is HIV positive.  I’m not. I went clubbing with a different friend, “Steve”, also negative, when we ran into Dave. Immediate sparks ignited between Dave and Steve.

I debated if I should say anything to Steve about Dave’s HIV status but decided it was their business to discuss, not my own.  They ended up going back to Dave’s apartment.  Apparently, Dave revealed his status to an unsuspecting Steve and those sparks were quickly extinguished.

Now, Steve is no longer speaking to me because he feels as though I should have said something sooner, so, as I suspect, he could have blown off Dave sooner.  Which is sad.  Both are great guys, and they could have missed out on getting to know someone really cool, or they could be missing out on some hot sex.  Should I have told Steve about Dave’s status? Or was I right to keep my trap shut?

– Trapped in the middle

Dear Trapped:

 I’ve spent weeks thinking about your dilemma, changing my mind every 15 minutes, and getting splitting headaches in the bargain.  In fact, I’ve been popping so much Ibuprofen, Advil sent me a thank you letter for propping up their stock.

I even called a couple of psychologists and counselors to see what they had to say. Here’s the transcript of a conversation I had with one of them–the gay, and more importantly, hot, New York City-based psychologist, Dr. Brad Thomason:

Me:  Was he right for keeping silent?

 

Doc:  Yes.  It isn’t your responsibility to broadcast other people’s medical conditions. 

 

Me:  But isn’t it irresponsible to say nothing and take the risk that somebody you love might get infected?

 

Doc:   People should take responsibility for their own health.  Taken to its ultimate conclusion what you’re saying is that you have the obligation to tell everybody who might sleep with “Dave” that he’s positive.

 

Me:  It’s hard to disagree with what you’re saying but I keep thinking, what’s more important–keeping a friends’ confidence or keeping a friend safe?

 

Doc:  That’s not the right question.  The right question is who is responsible for your health—you or your friends?

 

Me:  I take your point, but I don’t think you’re getting mine.  Are we not our brother’s keepers? 

 

Doc:  Yes, if those brothers are unable to take care of themselves.  If they’re mentally impaired, or demonstrably ignorant about HIV that’s a different story.

 

Me:  Or if they’re so stupid they think it’s possible to kill a fish by drowning it.

 

Doc:  I’m going to ignore that.  My point is that you’re not the alarm system for fully functioning friends.

 

Me:  What if they’re drunk or high?

 

Doc:  They made a choice to drink or use.  Are you going to police that, too?  

 

Me:  Are you kidding?  I’d be the one pouring!

 

 

So much for the transcript; here’s my bottom line:  I would have told “Steve” that “Dave” was HIV.

Why?  When philosophy meets reality, logic flies out the window.  If I’m asked to choose between an abstraction like personal responsibility and the well being of a close friend, I would rather be intellectually inconsistent than emotionally tortured.  I’m not passing judgment on you because there are good arguments on both sides.  The only person who needs a wake-up call is negative Steve.  First, he should have asked before they left the bar.  Second, he gave up a night or maybe a life with an awesome guy just because he’s HIV?  What a schmuck.

The economy is taking its toll on everybody’s love life. Marrieds:  If you think your partner wasn’t putting out before, wait till you see what they’ve got in store for you once they realize you had all your money in Wachovia and Citi-Group.  Couples living together:  If you think your partner didn’t pay you much attention before, wait till you see how much shade his “Project Ignore” stamp is going cast on your emotional needs now.  And singles:  If you think finding somebody was hard before, wait till you go to the bars and see how they’ve turned into empty bowling alleys.

But the people I feel sorry for the most are gold diggers.  

I mean, this housing market is the functional equivalent of date rape for them.  Once, real estate was the best investment they ever made.  Or rather, marrying somebody with real estate was the best investment they ever made.  But now, what’s a gold-digger to do?  How do you tell the house-poor from the plain poor?  They’re both driving about-to-be repo’d BMWs. 

“Everyone is looking for handsome, rich and charming men but there are less and less of them to go around,” says one gold digger in The NY Post’s Page Six Magazine.  And here’s the London Telegraph on men cutting back on “mistress-associated costs”:  ”More than three-quarters of the adulterous multi-millionaire men surveyed said they planned to spend less money on gifts and treats for their lovers, and 82 per cent planned to cut their regular payments.”

One reader wrote with a great solution—-a kind of modified Heimlich maneuver:  ”Place your fist on his abdomen and squeeze quickly and firmly until he coughs up more cash.”

Hey, the Hermes scarf on that shelf ain’t going to buy itself…

I’m moving in with my boyfriend in a few months.  I care about him very much, and I want to be with him, but part of me also wants to have one last “fling” before we make the step to move in together.  Should I allow myself to take a dip in the pool one last time?

– Slightly Confused

Dear Confused:
I love how you say “one last fling” as if you’re about to get into a committed relationship rather than already being in one. I understand it, though. It’s the same mentality I had the first time I moved in with a boyfriend. Instead of focusing on the reasons I wanted to live together (”I love him, he makes me laugh, he’s got a mean, hateful cock”) I started thinking, “OMFG! He’s the last guy I’m ever going to have sex with!”

And really, if that thought doesn’t make you panic I don’t know what will.

You’re also probably thinking, “It’s going to be impossible to trick once we live together so I better do it now.” Well, stop worrying. You’ll find a way. Men always do. Anyhow, you wouldn’t have asked my permission if you didn’t already know it was wrong. Instead of rationalizing an infidelity why don’t you neutralize it by taking to your boyfriend about it? Bring it up in a joking way. Like, “Do you ever get afraid that I’m the last guy you’ll ever sleep with? Do you ever think about having ‘one last fling?’”

You might be surprised at his answer. And the “permission” you might actually get. But there’s a more important reason to talk about it-to start an on-going dialogue about monogamy. Are you going to treat it as a necessary evil, something you both want, or a bored game by Milton Bradley? Don’t set yourselves up to be one of those couples that break up over “the silent issue.” Things shouldn’t end because one partner crossed a boundary that was never discussed.

If you don’t want to have a conversation with him then I say don’t have a fling.  Cheating is no way to start out a new life together.

Yo, Mike!
I’m 24 and have not really had a proper long-term relationship.  I’ve never had much trouble getting guys into bed, so there’s normally a decent amount of sex flying around.  The problem is I’m a bit of a hypocrite.  If a guy likes me for “more than sex” straight off the bat, I kinda lose interest, even if I’m attracted to him.   I tend to fall for the guys that I sort of like at first, but who then don’t reciprocate.  It’s like their lack of interest just rocks my world.

Normally, I hate playing “the game” (acting hard to get, feigning disinterest, etc), so if I like someone, they will know it.  But when I get the same treatment from other guys, I find it…. boring?

Is this normal? Should I just hang around till the right balance between him liking me, and me liking him comes along?  Or am I a rejection junky?

-  Screwed

Dear Screwed,

You’re not a rejection junkie; you’re a new meat junkie.   Big difference.  Oh, and that bullshit about not liking the game?  Don’t pee on my leg and tell me it’s raining.  You love the game –as long as you’re the dealer and not the dealt with.  Here’s why you’re chasing your tail and how you can stop:

1.  The Hunt is More Exciting For You Than the Catch.

The pursuit is giving you something that being pursued does not:  Anticipation, excitement, spontaneity, conquest and drama.  OH GOD, THE DRAMA!  And of course, that New Dick Smell.   

The solution:  Trade in the fruits of the pursuit for the benefits of a boyfriend.  That means accepting less of what you’re getting plenty of-excitement and drama, in return for what you’re getting none of-intimacy and bonding.  How do you do that?  By knowing what you don’t know.  And what you don’t know is the excitement of being with someone you truly love.   What you don’t know is how intimacy creates mind-blowing sex.  Be curious.  Find out. 

You also need to exercise a little impulse control.   Don’t ‘mancan’ a guy after a week or two.  Wait a month.  You might be kicking the love of your life to the curb without knowing it. Dating isn’t just about giving your dick a new career; it’s also about discovering qualities in a guy that aren’t immediately noticeable.   I’ve had two “tricks” that turned into long-term boyfriends-thank God I didn’t do then what you’re doing now. 

2)  You’ve Confused Sexual Conquest with Self-Acceptance.

You’re an acceptance vampire, hungering for warm, life-giving dick.   Once you’ve buried your fangs in somebody they’re of no use to you anymore.   You need a constant supply of fresh acceptance or you’ll die.  Or rather, your ego will.

The solution:   Put a stake through the heart of your ego.  You’re convinced that your self-worth is based on how many guys you can get to like you, making it impossible to be in a relationship.  There are great reasons to be a whore; a lack of self-esteem ain’t one of them.   Read Eckhart Tolle’s book, The New Earth.  It’ll give you a great understanding of how your ego keeps you from getting what you want and how you can stop it. 

I’m not going to pump sunshine up your ass and tell you any of this is easy to do.  But if you don’t change direction you’re going to end up where you’re headed-a love life defined by a single word:  “Next!”

                YOUR ODDS.  ——->

You chatted online or talked on the phone almost every night for weeks.  You really fell for him even though you never physically met.  Then suddenly he stops all contact.  He won’t return your emails, texts or calls.   You’re crushed, and you just can’t rest until you know why he ended it.  How bad is it to ask for closure from someone you’ve never met?  If you’re talking every night for weeks doesn’t the other guy owe you something?

He owes you nothing.  N-O-T-H-I-N-G.   How can somebody you’ve never met owe you for something that never happened?   Besides, what if he’s hideous?  What if he’s a toxic waste dump who disguised himself as oceanfront property?  You’d end up getting closure from a foreclosure.

Yes, you’re hurt.  Who wouldn’t be?  But you’re the one who allowed it to happen.  The point of online dating is to hook up or date-not to have endless phone conversations and weave chat threads into adorable little sweaters.  The next time you meet somebody online cut to the chase.  Tell them you’re not here to type; you’re here to meet.   If he’s dodging all your invitations he ain’t just hinting that something ain’t right-he’s skywriting it.

Love ain’t enough. 

That’s a bitter pill to swallow. Or as a slightly oversexed friend likes to say, a bitter pillow to bite. 

When you’re in a relationship you realize love has all the limitations of glue:  It can’t stick if the parts don’t fit. I thought about all this when I bumped into an ex-boyfriend, who reminded me of a column I wrote about our break-up.  It was the first time I had ever written about love, and I remember being startled by the emotional response it got:

Our relationship ended after six or seven years.  That I couldn’t remember exactly when we met or how long we’d been together was a constant source of irritation to him.  Enraged at my memory lapses, he would introduce me as “my boyfriend, Ronald Reagan.”  

We fought for all the reasons people fight-money, misunderstanding, lust, and trust.  At first, problems came at us with all the weight of mid-summer snowflakes.  They melted before we even had the chance to flick them off.  But winter crept in and suddenly nothing would melt.  There was no avalanche, really.  I guess the snow just built up and caved the roof in. 

We drifted into a trial separation.  He got more clarity and I got more distant.  One day the phone rang.  He looked at the caller ID. 

“Who is it?” I asked.  “You,” he answered.

Confused, I walked over and saw what the caller ID flashed:   “UNAVAILABLE.”

I wonder if men are really capable of working things out in a relationship.  We have what it takes to love but do we have what it takes to stay?  Straight men can barely stay with women; what are the odds gay men can stay with each other?

We want our relationships to last like trees, stately oaks with deep roots that last forever.  But our relationships endure more like perennials, barely scratching the topsoil, coming back again and again in bloom-and-doom boomerangs.

Our relationship boomeranged from one end of the spectrum to the other, but our love didn’t.  It was so palpable, so present.  But people who think that’s all you need to keep a relationship going are wrong.  And single, too.  Only the unmarried think you can save a relationship with more love.

My love never changed, but my dreams did.  And so did his.  The steadiness of our affection and the changes in our aspirations met like an irresistible force crashing into an immovable object.  The only thing left standing was our dogs.

In the final moments before he left, we hugged and cried for so long I didn’t think we’d ever let go of each other.  I joked and told him I was crying because I felt so bad for him, that I knew how hard it would be to live without me.  He said he was crying because I was holding him so tight. 

As he pulled away in his rented truck, I realized what happened in his rear-view mirror is what happened in his heart.  I got smaller and smaller until I was no longer there. 

I waved until the truck pulled out of sight.  Only once before, at my brother’s funeral, had grief overwhelmed me with such force. 

Now I’m single, at an age where I remember thinking “I could never date anyone that old.”   But I’m also at the point where I can appreciate the deal brokered between age and wisdom.  Life does not take youth and beauty away from you; you are released from them.  And one of the things this bittersweet freedom allows is the capacity to experience profound love.  Like I did, for six or seven years.
 

Hop on Board!

My column gets a lot of “BGO” questions—the kind whose answers contain a Blinding Glimpse of the Obvious.  They’re almost always about dating a guy who’s meeting you a quarter of the way. He’s paying just enough attention to show that he likes you but not enough to make anything real out of it. 

It’s not that he doesn’t text you.  It’s that he’s responding to every other one of yours.   It’s not that he doesn’t want to see you, but he doesn’t make a great effort to. The sex is fantastic but dinner seems out of the question.

The truth is, he’s sending you a message but you’re too deaf to hear it.  And the hearing loss is directly proportional to how loud he’s yelling.  

Exhibit A, from a recent column:

Yo, Mike!

I met this guy last Friday and we spent the entire weekend together.  We then spent Monday night together, took a break Tuesday night, and then spent Thursday night together.   I’m totally crushing on him, but he’s like, “I don’t go on dates, I’m more into just having “friends” and “hanging out.”   Am I wasting my time trying to pursue a relationship with someone who just wants to be “friends”?

 

- Crushed Out

I used to answer these BGO questions with rapid-fire insults.  Like, “You idiot.  He doesn’t want to be with you—he wants to be in you!”

But then I started to get so many of them I realized either there are a lot of idiots in the world or something else is going on.  And of course, there is:  Self-delusion.  Hope, lust and longing can make you deaf, dumb and blind.  I know, not just from the letters I get, but from experience.  The hope that he wants you as much as you want him clouds your judgment.  You start interpreting his actions based on what you want the truth to be rather than what it is.

So, I’m trying not to insult people as much as I used to, though old habits are hard to break.  Instead, I try to get them to see it from a different perspective.  Here’s the short answer I gave to “Crushed Out”:   

‘The Clue Bus smashed into your living room and you’re in the back yard looking for it.  Read your email again and pretend it’s from a friend asking for your advice.  I promise you’ll smack right into the bus.  Hop on board and back it up.’

So, I’m at a wedding and I spot this hot waiter serving wine behind a table.  I walk over, hand him my glass and before I could put my claws in him…

WHOOOOOOOOOOSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHH!

 Another waiter came out of nowhere, took the glass out of my hand and poured me a new one.

 COCK-BLOCKED!

 By the time I realized what happened, the hot waiter was serving other guests and I was stumbling back to my table.  Now, was that an innocent turn of events or a diabolical plot to keep me away? 

Or more to the point, did the cock-blocker know he was blocking?

 “Maybe,” my friend T said, “but I doubt it.  The self-aware cock-blocker tends to be the ugly best friend who’s in love with you–the guy who tells an embarrassing story about you in front of the guy you’re interested.”

 True, but there is always the curious case of the clueless cock-blocker.  I’ve been with friends who’ve seen me having an obvious “moment” with somebody yet they will not excuse themselves from the conversation.  Once, I called a friend on it, and he was like, “Oh, I didn’t realize you were interested in him.”  Never mind that my crotch was sending out five-alarm smoke signals and the other guy inhaled them with a bong.

 Still, I’ve come to realize that what’s obvious to you isn’t so obvious to others.  If I even think a friend has the potential to hook up with somebody we’re both talking to, I excuse myself and let the pants fall where they may.  But I’m attuned to that sort of thing and some guys just aren’t.

 There are guys who live under the credo, “If I can’t have him, you should.”  There are people who think, “If I can’t have him, you won’t.”  And there are people who think, “Do you like my shoes?”

 But the best are people who take their “Interference Awareness” to a whole other level.  Like my friend B, who said: “I’m my biggest cock-blocker.”

I was in London’s Soho Pizzeria with two friends—one trying to make his relationship work; the other trying to make anything work. After a bottle and half of red, I threw out a question that made the pepperoni curl:  Are the problems of being single worse than the problems of being in a relationship? 

It’s like asking which is the worst way to die—drowning or getting shot.  It just depends on the kind of pain you’re not into.  I don’t think we came to a conclusion (wine does that), but I’d say being single redlines the misery index.

If you’re single, you’re pretty much ruled by a primal “Skin hunger.”  Not just down-n-dirty (and seemingly always unresolved) horniness, but a profound longing for physical touch. 

Being in a relationship has its own problems but the skin hunger is usually met in some way.  Even if you’re having little or no sex, there’s usually some physicality involved, even if it’s just the presence of somebody else in the room.  You might not have sex but you probably sleep together, hold hands, and give or get the odd kiss.  Which of course keeps the skin hunger from slipping into starvation. 

As my single friend and my ‘relationship’ friend traded miseries, I thought to myself:  Why is it that when we get into a relationship we forget the relentless skin hunger that drove us crazy when we were single?