"Flattered, and with a bit of beer foam dribbling out of my mouth, I politely declined.
"I mean, I don't blame them, but it's not like I had a choice," I continued thinking to myself while mindlessly nodding along to what my fifth date was saying. " he yelled, throwing them to one side of the proverbial gymnasium. I was surprised to see that of the 30-ish men there, only three (including me) were dressed up.
"The online 'bottoms' sign-up sheet was all filled up! If I wanted to sail with the boys on this gay Noah's ark, I had to maybe fib to myself a little."The event, which was held in the confines of a cavernous bar downtown, had a surprisingly large turnout. Far too many of the men, who were essentially about to go on at least 15 first dates, were wearing T-shirts and tank tops.
There was a drizzle of uneasy laughter from the men in line. To be blunt, most of the men on either side (including me) were average-looking -- sometimes aggressively so.
These men weren't the living mannequins you see gliding on the roller skates of their good looks through Chelsea.
I tried to make my chest seem bigger, deepened my voice and swigged my sh***y beer like I was in a square state.