Jokester

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"I've tried this online dating thing, and it's so weird. The worst thing about online dating is everybody puts the same hobbies down. You know what the most popular hobby in New York City is? Hiking and biking. We live in New York -- where the f**k do you hike? Are you, like, rappelling down the side of your building in the morning?"

By Veronica Mosey

The Gymnast

I was out with a group of friends for dinner and a friend of a friend joined us who I will call the Gymnast. He came in all short and stout and entertained us with stories about his job as a stenographer and the vast difference between what he does in the courts vs. doing closed caption work. Very interesting stuff, but his new found love of gymnastics is what I was really interested in. I couldn't stop asking questions about why he got into it, and where does one carry out these wild gymnastics fantasies. Well, at the end of dinner he asked me out and how could I resist a real live stenographer/gymnist! He took me to Fig and Olive, which was delicious and I asked more questions about his gymnastic prowess. I wanted to know if he wore a leotard and if so what color, and if his class consisted of 12 year old girls or other "straight" men who have a fondness for tumbling? With every answer he reminded me that he wasn't gay. I looked him straight in the eyes and told him that being gay is ok, and people will respect him more if he just comes out. He laughed thinking I was joking- I was not. At that time my friend came to meet up with us and we all went to a party the Gymnast's friend was having in the East Village. On the way there he told us that people thought his friend was gay, but he had a girlfriend so he clearly was straight. You'd think that for someone who was so "straight" he would stop talking about gay things, but oh no not the Gymnast. He went on to tell us that he thinks that when straight guys "experiment" it doesn't mean they are gay. I at this point could not take anymore gay talk with a guy I was on a date with and I called it quits.

Now I'm sure you have one burning question after reading this story and.... Yes, he did wear a leotard to gymnastics class and he has two, a black one and a light blue one. I'm sure the other guys in the class who joined to meet guys to "experiment with in a straight way" loved the light blue one best.

Frenchie

It was my first encounter in the dating realm here in New York City. I was at one of my new favorite bars, Employees Only, when he and his co-worker walked up to me and my friend and asked the age old question "Do you come here often?" He had a French accent that I loved, but so thick I never did learn his name. He smelled of B.O., gross I know, but I was a bottle of Prosecco in so it wasn't a deal breaker. After the usual flirting fest he asked, "want to come to zee my 'ouse, oui or no?" So off we went over the bridge to somewhereville Brooklyn. When we finally got to his place the Prosecco was starting to ware off and his smell was finally starting to bother me, but still not a deal breaker. After a few stories about how great France is and how horrible America is, he asked if I wanted to stay over and I said sure, but promptly proclaimed "I'm not sleeping with you!" After making out for a while on his bed Frenchie started to take off his clothes. I again remind him that I wasn't going to sleep with him, he said that's fine but that he can't sleep unless he was naked. So there I was lying in bed, fully clothed I might add, with a stinky naked Frenchman. When I woke up realizing where I was, I quickly called my friend and asked how I get the hell out of Brooklyn. She quickly responded with: "Oh no, we DON'T leave the island!" To which I responded, "Well I did leave the island, now how do I get back?" At this point Frenchie woke up , stood up, and started doing stretches. Mind you he was still naked at this point. I told him I had a "very important thing to do and had to go." We then moved to his living room and he started making breakfast in the nude of course. I again told him I don't have time for breakfast because "this thing I have to do is very very important." He said "O.K. I call a car for zee most beautiful girl in the 'ole world." When the car finally came I gave him an ass out hug trying not to rub against his uncut willy. After that fantastic evening I did end up going on one more date with him where the whole time I kept looking at the waiter as if to say "I think he needs to take a shower too." Although I never talked to Frenchie again I do thank him for the jump start to the crazy dating scene that exists here in New York City.

It's Raining Luggies

So I don't know what it is about the guys here in New York but they all seem to have a some kind of serious bronchial disease. I am constantly dodging luggies as I walk down the street or jumping over the snot ponds that the men here love to create. Now don't get me wrong I'm not saying I have never spit before, but there's a line that is crossed when I have to physically move out of the way to not get hit by a huge green snot rocket several times a day. Once after a lovely gentlemen that nearly doused me with his spit wad said and I quote, "Oh shit! That wasn't meant for you, but I'd like to take you out for lunch to make up for it!?" To which I responded, "Fuck you and your never ending sinus problem."

To all the men in the city I'm here to tell you - Real Men Use Tissue!! (note the manly man pictured above)