It’s a sad commentary on my social life when the highlight of the past week comes from sitting on the front patio of hoary Uptown gay bar Big Chicks on dollar burger night, doing Gweilo impressions of contact sheets from AsianPoses.com. On a Monday.
Had Jennifer Hudson’s show (and showmanship, for that matter) been as electric as Robin Thicke’s, the sour notes in the second-half of the double-billed evening would have been easier to swallow. Surprisingly, neither were.
Sometimes I need a brick to the head to get the message. Starting to date a native son of Chicago last month showed both of us how apparent that is. I suppose some internal barriers, like some waiting periods, were meant to be broken.
Recently on Facebook I was tagged with that overly persistent 25 Things meme. What could I write about myself that I haven’t already shared on the blog? About 25 other things, as it turns out.
I haven’t just been suffering through a string of bad dates this year. Like any improperly imperfect gay man my age, lately I’ve also been getting more than my fair share of standups, slowdowns, and excuses for breaking them in the first place. Some of the excuses have been outlandish, others blatant baloney. But they’ve all been carefully written down, for tracking purposes. Here they are.