On Advice, Calls and Wanting My Friend to Get His Head Out of His Bum

My friend needs your help. He’s got issues with a boy and refuses to listen to anything I have to tell him. I can’t say that I blame him much on that point, but it would be nice if he’d just get his head out of his bum and realize I know what I’m talking about for once in my life. But since he refuses to extract his head from bum long enough to pay any attention to me, I now throw his dilemma to you.

And, yes, this post is about my friend. It’s not about me.

My friend is a volunteer with a local organization that serves the gay community. Last week he organized a social mixer so that the volunteers could meet one another and talk about their experiences. At this mixer he met a boy. That’s when things got confusing.

The boy is a friend of a friend. He and my friend talked at the mixer. They had a nice conversation. It was all fine and well. They didn’t kiss. They apparently didn’t even really flirt. They just talked.

The next day my friend got an email from the boy. The boy thanked him for organizing the event and passed on his cell phone number so that my friend would have it. The email made it sound as if the number was passed on so that my friend could update the boy on the next mixer. According to my friend, it was all business.

But I have to disagree. As far as I am concerned, the boy passed on his number because he wants to do a whole other kind of mixing with my friend. Do you not agree?

So now my friend is wondering if the email was more than it appears to be. He’s all confused and down on men and, as I mentioned, refuses to listen to me when I tell him that he needs to call the boy.

Here’s how I see it. My friend clearly likes this boy and wants to pursue something more. If he didn’t, he would never have questioned the motives behind the email. He’d have taken it at face value and moved on. The fact that he did not clearly means he’s at least intrigued by the boy.

And so I suggested he call him. I told him to just pick up the phone, dial the number and talk to the boy. He can pretend to be calling about the mixer. He can say he wanted to know what the boy thought of it and if he’d come to future events. It can all be very appropriate and chaste. And if it remains that way, we have our answer. And if the conversation meanders and weaves and ends in the planning of a more private date, we also have our answer.

That’s some sound advice, right?

According to my friend, it is not sound advice. He thinks that would be too bold. He thinks I’m just trying to get him into a sticky situation. He thinks I’m silly.

And he’s right. I am silly. And it is bold. And I do want to get him into a sticky situation. I just happen to see all of those things as rather positive. We all need to be bold once in a while. We all need to let down our guards. And sticky situations can be so much fun.

You with me on this one?

On Poles, Surprises and Deciding Whether or Not to Dance

Raise your hand if you’d like to see me do a pole dance.

Can you even imagine my pudgy frame writhing around a pole dressed in a nothing but a bright blue thong and sequined pasties? I don’t know whether that mental image makes me want to pee myself in hysteria or cry in fear. And yet, the possibility of my taking to the pole is a fairly good one at the moment.

Remember that bachelorette party I was invited to? Well, it’s happening this Saturday. I knew all along that there was a surprise planned for the evening, and I just assumed it involved a scantily clad man, a boombox and some handcuffs. But I was wrong. I was very very wrong.

The surprise involves a pole. And it potentially involves me getting very intimate with said pole. And, quite frankly, the surprise has me more than a little hesitant to attend this little soiree.

The surprise is a pole dancing class.

So now I am faced with a second decision regarding this party. The first was whether or not to even attend based on the little fact that I have a penis. That decision was easily made. I like parties. I have no problem being the only man at any give occasion. And I love my friend to death and really want to celebrate this moment with her. So I decided to go.

But that was before I knew I’d have to learn how to pole dance. Now I am not so sure my original decision was a good one.

Don’t get me wrong. I’ve no doubt I can rock a pole. I’ve got mad dancing skills that you’d never see coming. And though I’m not one to admit it, I am a super sexy beast. Add those two things together and you get one knockout performance.

And yet, I don’t know if my showing up at a pole dancing class is such a brilliant idea. Attending a Mary Kay party is one thing. Crashing a party where women are going to have to let down their guards and exude copious amounts of sexuality is another. It just seems somewhat inappropriate.

Then again, I’m not usually one to shy away from the inappropriate. And I could stand to learn some new tricks. One never knows when some good pole dancing skills will come in handy. I mean, this could be a really good opportunity for me.

So do I get my pole on or not?

On Change, Panic and A Relatively Unrelated Musical Interlude

I am on the verge of a panic attack.

I have the sense that a huge change in my life is looming. I can see all the warning signs. I can almost smell it on the wind. It’s there. It’s coming. And it has me freaking out.

I shouldn’t be freaking out. This is not necessarily a bad change. In fact, I could argue that it’s a change I’ve been wanting in my life for some time. And yet, now that it’s here, I’m panicked. Just the thought of it throws me into a tailspin.

Luckily, I can easily stop the change from occurring. It’s rather simple. I have enough fair warning that I can throw up a pretty indestructible defense. I’ve done it before. In fact, I’ve done it more times than I care to admit. I just have to decide if that’s what I really want to do.

On a side note, don’t you just love it when I beat around the bush when we all know full well what I’m talking about?

The change is due to arrive some time this evening. It may stay for a few hours. It very well may stay for a few days. It may transform things for me. It may amount to nothing. It’s really up to me. I can let it change me or I can throw up my best poker face and let my stony nature scare it off.

I just hope I don’t pass out before I get to make the decision.

On 2:07, 2:33 and Writing Mini Posts When I Should Be in Bed

It is 2:07 in the morning and I should be in bed. Between working, working late, going into work early, attending volunteer events and organizing upcoming Book Club meetings, my week’s been just a wee bit hectic. I need all the sleep I can get. And yet it’s now 2:08 in the morning and I am sitting here instead of soundly sleeping in a bed that sits empty just feet from my computer.

I can’t sleep for three reasons. The first is that I’m hungry. The second is that I’m hot. The third is that my mind is racing. It’s this third reason that has brought me here. When my mind races, I have to run around and catch it. Catching my mind usually means chasing it to this very spot. And so, here I am.

It’s 2:11 in the morning and I’m offering up some early-morning mini posts.

On Häagen-Dazs, Cranberries and Polishing Off the Pomegranate Chip
I am completely enamored with Häagen-Dazs at the moment. First I discovered their fat free cranberry blueberry sorbet. A sucker for anything involving cranberries, I bought it. And I devoured it. And when I finally do get some sleep I am liable to dream about it. If that weren’t enough, I also came across their pomegranate chip ice cream. This is a smooth blend of pomegranate ice cream and dark chocolate chunks. It’s quite heavenly. I suggest you eat a pint as soon as possible. In fact, it’s 2:18 in the morning and I just polished one off.

On Massages, Kinks and Wondering if a Doctor Should Work Me Over First
I am contemplating getting my first professional massage. In fact, I have an appointment booked for Sunday. My back’s been rather sore as of late and I figured it was time I got over my body issues long enough to have a trained masseur work out some of the kinks. My current worry is that some of the kinks are due to that time I fell on some ice and landed squarely on my back. If that’s the case, I doubt a massage is the way to go. In fact, I’m guessing I need to go see a doctor. What’s a boy with back pain to do?

On Office Space, Tiny and Wishing I Owned a Baseball Bat
You know that infamous scene in Office Space where the three guys take the copier into a field and beat the ever-loving crap out of it? I so want to do that to one of the printers at work. That monstrosity (which we ironically refer to as Tiny) is currently at the top of my hit list. It often errors out on my projects. It likes to print any merges I send to it in random orders. And when I am at the office in the middle of the night trying to get letters ready for the temp staff that will be in the next morning, it has the tendency to just turn itself off. It’s damn lucky that I neither own a baseball bat nor know of any empty fields.

It’s now 2:33 in the morning and I should be in bed.

On Dating, Blogging and How One is Dependent on the Other

If, hypothetically, I might have met someone whom I thought I could potentially date, that would be a good thing. At least I think it would be a good thing. I mean, I’ve spent a lot of years looking for love and complaining and about love and forsaking love. So if there was the slightest possibility that something resembling the very early stages of a budding love were entering my life, that would be good news.

Right?

Here’s the issue, my loyal (and not-so-loyal) readers. If I were to fall in love, I may as well say farewell to Welcome to My Truth forever. Let’s face it. This blog is mostly about my traipsing the globe looking for love in every single wrong place you could ever imagine. So what happens when I finally find it?

I fear this blog will cease to have a purpose.

Let’s look at the numbers. I have written a measly 887 posts since this blog started up on January 10, 2005. I say measly because it feels like I’ve written a hell of a lot more than that. I can hardly believe I haven’t broken the 1,000 mark yet. What’s that all about?

But let’s get back to business. I’ve written 887 posts. Of those 887 posts, 173 of those fall into “dating” category. For those who have never noticed, I do categorize my posts. I’m not sure why I do it, but I do. My sense, however, is that that number is a little low. I mean, it’s got to be closer to 400 posts. There is no way I’ve only annoyed my readers with my dating life a mere 173 times. It’s just not possible.

In other words, the majority of the space on this blog is taken up with stories about my dating life. Some are humorous. Some are sad. Some are just boring. But they all are what they are and they are all about my dating life.

So if that time in my life comes to an end, does the blog come to an end? It’s all very philosophical.

All of this begs the question with which I started this post. Would my falling in love be a good thing? In many ways, the answer is yes. But in some ways, the answer is no. I firmly believe that my falling in love would put a huge damper on business here at Welcome to My Truth.

Lucky for all of you, I’m not really anywhere near falling in love.