Somewhere Over the Rainbow

I love that the month of June is Pride month (even though I wish it were during a cooler month), and that there are parades and festivals across the country. During a time like this, when change is eminent, it is good to gather, be loud, and be proud of who we are to show the world. But holy ballz Batman, if Pride were every month my liver would be shot, my body would be constantly broken, and I'd have very little memory of what goes on in life. This past weekend was, dare I say, crazier than DC Pride...for me at least. If you have been following my stories at all, you understand that there was no way that Baltimore Pride could have been tame, considering I have dated more than half of the city. (Do we like how I refer to my experiences as "dating" people...) This is my Baltimore Pride Experience, for better or worse...

 I decided for this past weekend's experience that I wanted to actually make it out during the evening and not pass out at 11pm like I did for DC Pride. I was going to stay in and get crap done the night before and then make it to Baltimore by mid-afternoon. But as we all know, I can never resist a request for a good happy hour or night out on the town. Some of my first friends from freshman year of college asked to gather, get drinks/food, and get weird. I, of course, felt the need to oblige since I am nothing if not a people pleaser. Plus, when I was a freshman they were juniors in college and they had apartments and were getting ready to be real people and closer to 21 than I was. Basically, they were super cool to me and they liked having me around, ever since then they have been the "cool kids" to me...any opportunity to be invited to their "lunch table" was always exciting.

It ended in shambles and Mexican food. We  proceeded to share rounds of shots like we had discovered the last remaining bottle of tequila on Earth and if we didn't drink it, the recent outbreak of cannibalistic zombies would eat our faces off. (Too soon?) Things get hazy, Mexican food was randomly purchased, and a cab driver took us for a tour of DC because he assumed we didn't know where we were. All of that caused a late start for this tuckered out gentleman and pushed back my arrival to the gay parade.

When I finally arrived into Baltimore at my gay bffl's place, I was ready for the rainbow festivities begin. We got a quick drank before he suggested that we walk from Harbor East to Mt. Vernon (where Pride was being held). For those of you who are unaware of Baltimore geography, that is a bitch of a walk and completely unacceptable for someone like me, who sweats...a lot. (Annnd I wonder why I am single). Almost as quickly as he suggested it, I jumped in a cab and told him and some of our friends to have an enjoyable walk and made my way with two of my lady friends to the festival of colors.

Within moments of arriving  I was accosted with several people I have "dated" over the last year. First we had Betty Boop, who literally just stared at me with his mouth open as if he'd seen a ghost. Now, I had prepped myself for the fact that it was inevitable for me to run into some of the cray crays of my past, I also practiced many reactions and faces so I wouldn't look like Betty Boop did. I gave a half smile before scurrying off into the crowd and hoped that was the worst run-in of the day. (Hahahaha, we all know I do not poses the luck of the Irish, these run-ins would only get better from here)


Baltimore Pride is like one big clusterfuck on Charles Street in between the two main gay bars in the city. Everyone was just outside, drinking, eating, drinking, dancing, drinking and being ridiculous. I ran into some old gays from high school in the process. (Shout out to my Howard County Gays!....that just felt lame to type...) Before I left for the day my mother said one thing to me:

Mama Fabulous: It would be nice if you could find someone at this event. I mean...there will be a lot of options.


Yup, its gotten to the point where my parents pity my single life. I patted her on the arm and assured her I would keep an open mind up about meeting someone. When I met up with some co-workers at the block party I told them about the  request for me to meet someone and instead of laughing at me they asked me what I would want....sooooo now everyone is over my single status. JOKES ON ME.

Co-worker: What's your ideal man, absolute perfect person.
Me: Ethnic
Co-worker: I don't know what to do with that, I need more.
Me: Tall, ethnic
Co-worker: This is why you are single. 
Me: Ughhh.... 6'-6'4", black/mixed, light eyes, more masculine than me, hunky
Co-worker: I should've guessed that. 
Me: I mean....you asked...whatever....he doesn't exist. Single foreverrrrr
Co-worker: Glad to see you aren't dramatic, I'll keep my eyes open.




After roaming around and having a god awful fruity drink, we ended up at City Cafe at the end of one of the blocks. Drinks were flowing there and it was a good place to wait out the heat. Within moments I became friends with a rando who was wearing the same J Crew shorts as me. He was a tall black man (surrrprissseeeeee) who happened to work in the same building as me. We hit it off and even took a picture together. My follow through was terrible. We didn't exchange numbers, names, or anything beyond witty banter and some drinks. Failed attempt at love #1.


It was also at this point that Baltimore Frandz decided we were only going to drink "clear" liquids for the rest of the day. This would avoid the issue of spilling fruity drinks on our outfits and feeling bloated from too much beer. This also ensured that we were all going to be...sloppy(?) by the end of the evening. Gin and tonics also seemed like the "healthiest" choice with the fewest calories. (We did everything in our power to talk ourselves into this being a good idea)


But it was a good idea....because....because....I FELL IN LOVE. It's true. I found someone at Pride! Baltimore Frandz went into Central and went to the upstairs lounge area, where I immediately ran into MIGHTY DUCK, who literally looked me up and down, turned to the queens flocking him on either side and said "There's nothing for us to see up here...let's go". How the mother effing hell did I just get dissed by someone who wore a feather suit to the bar as "high fashion." FEATHERS!

I was obviously feeling dejected and down by this display of gay prosecution and needed a drank...fast. That's when I fell in love. A 6'2" black man with a great smile made initial eyecontact with me and we started making eyes at each other from across the bar. (which means, since I was drunk, that I was probably awkwardly licking my lips and bugging my eyes out...you know...to show my love.)

(The only time Megan Fox and I will ever look similar...)

I guess my exotic mating ritual enticed this gentleman enough to walk over and start flirting it up with me. 

PrideLover: You are so beautiful, it's captivating

Me: HAHAHAHAHAHA, I mean, HAHAHHAHA

PrideLover: What's so funny?

Me: Uhh...oh...you were serious. Umm...I was laughing....dropped drink.

PrideLover: You dropped your drink? Aren't you holding it in your hands?

Me: Person behind bar. And they. Thank you

PrideLover: Haha, you're adorable. Let me get you a drink.

I am not really sure how I was adorable in anything that I did there but we ended up talking for awhile going back and forth. We met each others friends and we even exchanged numbers. Outside of the slight intoxication, it's one of the most normal ways I have met someone in a long time. PrideLover even exchanged numbers with one of my bffl's while I was in the bathroom, to make sure we would end up going out on a date. 

I am most thankful for the fact that we parted ways a little bit later before he watched me scarf down jalapeno poppers like it was my job...and burning the entire roof of my mouth in the process. (because I am classy like that..). The next day he texted both me and my Baltimore bffl to make sure we had fun and confirm that he was, in fact, still interested. I had forgotten I had fallen in love, but was invigorated by the texting and fell right back into it. 

I told a couple of my friends about it and my Brazilian bffl had some choice words about my new found relationship. 

Brazilian Bffl: I give it two weeks

Me: But I have found true love 

Brazilian Bffl: You find love every week, you get bored, and you move on. I give him two weeks

Me: You are not the boss of my heart. It beats to a different drum

Brazilian Bffl: Mhmm, two weeks.

Obviously she has little faith in my ability to find a suitable suitor, but I won't let her get me down. (to be fair...my track record...well, I write a blog about the pitfalls of my dating life. Maybe she's right?) I had another friend semi-belittle the experience.

NJ Bffl: I think its so great how often you fall in love!

Me: I meann...what?

NJ Bffl: I just think its great you have so many adventures and put your all into them

Me: Adventures are my thing, check out my OkCupid profile...I write a whole section about my adventurous life style. 

(Read Also: I lie on my profile about my adventurous lifestyle)

NJ Bffl: Maybe you don't fall in LOVE but more like LUV

Me: Rude

It seems my friends can't decide if they are desperate for me to not be desperate anymore or if they have lost faith in my dating life. Maybe a little of both? Either way I have a date with PrideLover on Tuesday of next week....we will find out how long true love really lasts.

Also, Mama and Padre Fabulous decided to take in the Pride Festival in Baltimore on Sunday for Father's Day. I'd like to point out, that while this gesture is completely and totally awesome and wonderful....it sucks for me. You may ask why? Well, since they are so freakin' accepting of me and supportive, it eliminates the possibility of me writing about a dysfunctional background or having a deep dark past. I will never be a moody songwriter or have a best selling book about my life turned into a Lifetime Movie (Every gay boy can have dreams...can't he??) So thanks Parental Units, thank you for bringing me up in a totally normal home where I was allowed to be myself and you still liked me. Rude. Just ruddeee. 

Fabulously Lost: In love with a stripper and PrideLover and Straight CT (Sooo maybe friendz have a point)

Friends: Faithless heathens 

PrideLover: Unaware of what he got himself into

Parents: Accepting and Loving...and rude.

Bro's and Sisters?

I was put into an interesting predicament recently that was partially my fault. It has been a really long time since I have gone on more than one date with a person. I have become a first date connoisseur of sorts. I can tell almost instantly when it is going to fail and at what point I am going to bail. You'd think with expertise knowledge like this I would have mastered the rest of dating...but that is neither here nor there. Now this little tale is actually about how I have handled my recent excursion into the world of the unknown...also known as "Date 2 and Beyond."

I met this gentleman like I meet most of my gentlemen friends...online. We sparked a conversation up after he gave me a "high" rating of 4 out of 5 stars on OkCupid. Now, riddle me this, why did I feel that I should message this person after they decided I was ONLY worthy of 4 stars? I am obviously a 5 star stud. (Hardy har har...I mean...at least 4.5 right? RIGHT?). Anywhoz, whatever reasoning I had for accepting this date has abandoned ship and a part of me wishes I could take it back...but I will explain why in a bit. 

We went back and forth for a bit and decided to meet up for dinner and exchange numbers. He seemed like a fairly decent white guy from right outside of Baltimore, except...well...except he was a Bro. That's right, in all of his photos he was doing bro-y things like drinking beer and being rowdy and liking sports and weird stuff that makes me feel even more homosexual than I actually am. (Didn't think I could feel more homosexual...but I did). I tried to rationalize this by telling myself that maybe he will take care of me like bro's sometimes take care of their girlfriends. I like being taken care of. This was going to be a success. 

(I am constantly confused on how I am supposed to greet my male friends. Do we hug? Do we slap each others backs violently. WTF? No seriously...someone tell me..)

Broseph and I decided to meet on a Sunday evening at a pub not too far from my house. He lived on the opposite side of Baltimore so we decided to try and find something in the middle. But I lied. I didn't feel like driving too far from my house on a Sunday and I claimed that this restaurant in Catonsville was mid-way, except it was 10min from my house and 30 from his. The sick part...I felt like I had given myself the upperhand by choosing this place. He was now traveling a far distance just to see me. SEE WHAT GIVING ME 4 STARS GETS YOU?!?! (It's the little realizations that help me understand why I am single..)

He rolled in a little late since he didn't realize how far the restaurant was...not that I had any room to be upset. I had also already downed a gin and tonic so everything was gravy with me at that point. We ended up sitting and talking for a really long time. He opened up about his family and work and all that jazz. Tony Bromo was kinda boring but nice, plus he fed me a good amount of attention. I even ended up paying for dinner because I felt bad about making him drive further, though I didn't tell him. (I would make an AWFUL Mean Girl. Sorry Regina, I will not wear pink on Wednesday)

He then did something that made me want to see him again. Brofessor X kissed me in the rain as he walked me to my car. It was magical. It was like out of a movie. I was swept off my feet. So I immediately agreed to the second date and couldn't wait for the next cheesey cliche to happen. What I wasn't ready for was how to decide what I could and couldn't do between our dates. The night before our second date was the night that I met Black Bieber.  So I obviously didn't feel a dire need to be a one-man kinda guy yet. Our second date came and went with a casual lunch and museum walk. There was something amiss and I was desperately clawing at trying to figure out what was wrong with this gentleman. 

Our third date was planned for the following Sunday and we were supposed to do dinner and a movie. The Friday before our date I decide to go out dancing with some friends in Baltimore at the gay bar. The more I drink the more I want attention. Like a lot of attention. Like I want to be fawned over and desired and I will take it from anything that moves that has the dangly parts between their legs. (Surprisseeee...I'm classy).  I'm furiously texting with Han Brolo who was contemplating visiting me at the bar which is something I was obviously pushing for. 

The only person left with me at the bar was one of my best friends who is on the verge of black out. When she gets drunk she gets T-Rex arms...and does some....interesting things. I turn around to tell her about Broheim coming and T-Rex is flicking a shirtless shot-man's nipple piercings. (same thing as a shot-girl except a man...because we are gay and like men better. Duh.) As I was about to pull her back from this, a shirtless man grabbed my arm and began mackin' it with me. Not one to be a prude I obviously obliged in my altered state. A few minutes into this random sesh I get a text message from Brotastic letting me know he was about to enter the bar. 

(This perfectly describes my feelings at that moment)

I pulled away from Shirtless Man immediately and tried to explain why we had to stop mackin' it. 

Me: Hey...so this is awkward but this guy I am going on a third date with on Sunday is about to come in the bar

Shirtless Man: Your boyfriend is about to walk in the door? Wtf??

(he did actually say W-T-F, because we are apparently in h.s.)

Me: No, no. We are going on our third date on Sunday. Definitely not my boyfriend

Shirtless Man: So you two are dating?

Me: No, no. There is something missing and I am not sure what it is. I mean he smokes which is unattractive but there is something off. I'm taking the third date to figure it out. He cliche kissed me in the rain so I'm giving him points for that. I just don't know.

Shirtless Man: I just want to know if we have to stop making out...I don't care about your fucked up logic.

Me: A little harsh, but understandable. We should just be friends...you're a good kisser though. 

As I turn around to talk to T-Rex, I get a tap on the should and there is Han Brolo smiling and pulling me in for a hug. He takes me to the dance floor where we start dancing and mackin' it...almost exactly where I was dancing with Shirtless Man. I stop for a moment and notice over his shoulder that Shirtless Man is glaring at us from the other side of the room. He is slowly plunging eye daggers into Brotimus Maximus as we move back and forth interlocking lips every once in awhile. Searching for ways to fix this situation before in escalates I am given a pass out of nowhere. 

T-Rex saunters up to me and tells me she is ret-ta-go and needs to leave now. Thanking little baby Jesus I turn to my Brofriend and tell him I need to be a good friend and take her home. She tells me to wait just one more minute as she spins around and walks up to the pierced shot-man and flicks his nipple and belly button piercings one more time. Saved by the bell I return to her place and pass out wondering how I am going to deal with our next date. 

Brozilla texts me before our date on Sunday and asks me if we can do dinner and a movie at his place instead of out to save some $$$. I go back and forth for about an hour before deciding I am willing to make this trek to his house solely because I feel guilty about the other night. Things that I know about his house before I arrive: He lives with his older sister, he has lived there for a couple years, it's in the middle of nowhere outside of Baltimore. Little did I know I would be finding out exactly what was "missing" and why I couldn't fully connect to this otherwise decent human being. 

When I arrived at the house I was greeted by his sister who told me Rambro was finishing up cleaning and would be up in 5 minutes. We shared some awkward conversation and about 20min later he rose from the basement just to let me know he was going to take a 10minute shower to get fresh for me. I smiled and said it was fine and then the interactions got rulllll weird. 

Broseiden: Hey sis, are you going to start making dinner?

Sis: Yeah I was just about to get started! I am making your favorite. 

Broseiden: I can't wait! Fab, she is the best cook ever. You'll be getting a great dinner tonight! 

Sis: Oh hush! You know I love cooking for you. So sweet. 

She then pulls out a jar of Ragu sauce and pasta. Now, I am not one to be snooty or rude or look down on the way people cook, but don't tell me that this is there idea of what a good cook is. You can tell a 10 year old to put that together. Ok, ok I am now ignoring the elephant that has just entered the room. WHY THE HELL IS SHE COOKING DINNER FOR US???? (You were afraid I wasn't going to talk about it, right? Ohhh just you wait)

Immediately my mind went to Friends, like it does when I need help figuring out most of my life situations, and the date Rachel went on with the guy who was super close with his sister. I began to panic.   (Go to 2:42....its only funny when it's not happening to you) I kept telling myself that this was just a blip and that she was just cooking for us to save us time. She wasn't going to eat with us. They both know this situation is weird, right?

The answer is no. They didn't realize this was weird and she joined us for dinner and also dominated the conversation. They talked about their Mothers Day plans and their other siblings. They talked about how long they had lived together and all 2 of her ex-boyfriends. They discussed me like I wasn't really there and they discussed our future dates. Our. Future. Dates. I tried not to laugh out loud at the thought that there would be future dates after this. Once she was finished her food I guess she decided to head out and let us finish the date on our own. 

Sis: So are you guys going to watch a movie up here?

Brosie Brodonnell: Oh I don't know, we might watch up here or down in my room.

Sis: Ok, well you can watch any of my DVD's. I have all the seasons of Gilmore Girls, it's a really good show. You should check it out. 

Brosie Brodonnell: Sounds good. Thanks for the amazing dinner sis! 

Do I really need to say anything about that? Gilmore Girls? Really? Ok cool, thanks for that little nugget of information about this show. Oh but the best is yet to come. We begin watching some movie on HBO before we begin mackin' it a bit. He stops and asks if I would like to finnish the movie in his room. Being the classy lady I am, I decide to agree and see where the night takes me. 

When we get downstairs there is not a T.V. or computer in site. He basically told his sister that we would either be watching a movie or hooking up. WHO TELLS THEIR SIBLING THAT WHEN THEY ARE IN THE SAME HOUSE?!?! I am extremely close with both my brothers and we joke about our escapades at different times but we never tell each other whats going to be going down when we are in the same house. 

All of this led to me leaving dissatisfied with the date but finally satisfied with why I felt so off about this creature. To all the Bro's out there....never invite your sister on a date with you. You already have the Bro thing working against you. 

Fabulously Lost: Smart gut feeling, poor life choice maker 

Bro's: Need not apply

Shirtless Black Men: The more the merrier

Valentines Shmalentines

So I am sitting here the night before Valentine's Day listening to Jay Brannan and Adele with lit candles, thinking about whether or not to cancel on this guy for our date later this week. For those of you who don't know who Jay is, you are missing out on some depressingly sad songs about gay male relationships. Lezz-be-ahnist, what screams desperate and tortured like sitting alone in your cold apartment, listening to a mix of depressing and slightly more depressing music, with your off brand candles from Target.

I am most definitely one of those people who hates Valentine's Day, PDA, cute couple names, Facebook official relationships, and photos of people kissing....ONLY when I am not in a relationship. When I have someone I sometimes make sure I am doing all of those things at once (Because how the hell will people know I am happy if they don't see all of it together on Facebook every two hours. YOU know who you are, disgusting relationship people.) So as you can probably tell, I am not with anyone on this fine evening before the holiday based on love, so I am a little bitter.

The one and only Valentines Day where I had a real Valentine  (not one of my girl friends who also happens to be bitter and single and desperate enough to go out with a gay man) was kind of a dud. I was 21 and we went to a crowded restaurant in DC, I bought him tickets to his favorite band and in return I got a replacement earring for the one he helped me lose two nights prior. Romance has always been kind of illusive to me. So it should come as no surprise that in a plea for attention and validation I went on a date the night of the Superbowl, in hopes that we would fall madly in love in one week and then have each other for this fine day. And if you haven't been paying attention...you will realize that didn't happen.

The Thursday before I went to New York I decided to hop on my handy dandy GPS Gaydar device known as Grindr. Thats when I began talking to this friendly fellow who lives close to the gay bars I often make appearances at over the weekend. (Read Also: I immediately decided he was a winner because then I wouldn't have to cab it home after the bars. Slumber Parties to come!!) We chatted on and off over the whole weekend and when I got home he kept trying to get me to meet with him for a drink. I was exhausted and kept pretending that the Superbowl was keeping me at home (HA! I watched Madonna walk around with a walker on stage and I watched the last 45 seconds of the game.  Golden Girls had a marathon on...not my fault). When the game was over I took stock of my life and realized I was never going to meet anyone if my closest ideas of what a good relationship was, was solely based off of Blanche Devereaux's escapades.

So I pulled myself together into a somewhat acceptable form, sprayed cologne on, and made my way down to Central. As I walked in I found Mighty Duck sitting there, and he seemed to be more attractive than I thought he was going to be. (mainly because he was white...and I just don't do white very well.) We sat down and had a drink and kinda hit it off, things were going so well that we ordered a second and third drink. We were talking music and movies and a lot of other surface things. He then asked if I wanted to head back to his apartment to watch a movie. In my cute, but still tipsy, state I decided it would be good to watch something and have the dranks wear off.

When we got back to Mighty Ducks apartment we made a beeline for the t.v. (which happened to be in the bedroom...I'm a classy guy). I didn't notice much in the apartment because it was fairly dark, but seemed nice. We put on some crap movie on T.V. and start mackin' it up, not getting too handsy...because a lady doesn't give too much up on the first date. He pulls back a couple minutes in and we have a conversation I will never forget.

Mighty Duck: You are the first guy I am making out with since I broke up with my boyfriend.
Me: *like a total idiot, channeling my inner therapist* Ohh, what happened? Are you okay?

(What? Are you okay? WE were mackin' it on his BED and you asked "Are you okay?" Ok Dr. Buzkill lets see what the therapist finds out...)

Mighty Duck: Yeah, we broke up three weeks ago. He was such a jerk and a total deadbeat. 

Me: Awww, and what makes him a deadbeat and a jerk, Mighty?

Mighty Duck: Well he lives in bumblefuck in a house his parents own and he works in the pool industry. Plus he is old...he is like...31.

Me: Wow, that sounds really familiar for some reason. To be fair, you are 26...31 isn't that old. But hey, thats just me! What does he look like?

Mighty Duck: He is half-black and about 5'10". Omg and I didn't tell you, he has 3 kids, oldest one is 13.

Me: *Sheer terror of realization* Is his name...is it....Grandpa?????

Mighty Duck: Yeah! How did you know??

Yup, thats right....I was on a date with Grandpa's ex-boyfriend. The same boyfriend who Grandpa cheated on, with me, while on the dance floor of Central as I shook my money maker. I was completely mortified at this point and decided I needed to go to the bathroom. As I walked through the living room I  noticed a mannequin with a white suit on it,  but not just any white suit, one that had a jacket straight off of a Britney Spears tour. This jacket had silver chains and rhinestones all over it and it had feathers shooting off the shoulders. (Yes I said feathers, like duck feathers as shoulder pads). With everything else I had just been forced to digest, I decided to ignore this and just go to the bathroom. I gave myself a pep-talk and went back to his side. 

As we sat and talked more, and I sobered up more, I was beginning to notice that the decorations in his apartment were a cross between an old Victorian home and what a 12yr old girl would think an old Victorian room might look like. Mighty Duck then brought up his birthday being that Wednesday. He told me that he was going out Tuesday and Wednesday in Baltimore and DC on Thursday. Then he began talking about Saturday. 

Mighty Duck: Saturday is going to be the major party night! Did you see the gorgeous suit in the living room?

Me: Uhhhh yeah? Kinda hard to miss...its very...Gaga?

Mighty Duck: Omg I love it....I'm wearing it on Saturday to Central!!! I die! 

Me: Wow...don't you think its a bit much for Central? It's a pretty...eccentric costume...

Mighty Duck: Life is better in costume, duh!

That's not true at all. Life isn't better in costume, in fact life is fairly uncomfortable in most costumes. Unless you were picked to wear your pajama's as your costume, life is NOT more fun in costume. Also...how the hell was I supposed to make him my Valentine's date when he is obviously a bit off his rocker? I decided I needed another bathroom break at this point, since I was now completely sober and on a date with Grandpa's ex who also happened to be into dressing in Nicki Minaj's rejected tour costumes. 

When I got into the bathroom I was blinded by 3 major things I had failed to notice before, that could have tipped me off that he was a bit fem cray cray. 

1. In silver and rhinestones above his mirror was the word "GORGEOUS". (It was probably the  most inaptly named sign I had ever seen...)
2. Everything had some sort of pink on it, whether it was bows or pink letters, or just straight up pink accessories. 
3. There was a Coach make-up bag filled with make-up on the counter. He lives alone. He owns a Coach. Make-Up, Bag.

I was over this whole thing so very fast and needed to escape. When I began to open the door I saw this tiny chihuahua out of the corner of my eye. I yelped and then it scurried out of the bathroom. Shivers went down my spine as Mighty Duck yelped,

"O.M.G You let BRUISER out!"

(Yup. Yup. Yup. his dog was named after Legally Blonde)

I rushed out of the bathroom and let him know I was ill and needed to go home. He protested for a moment and then let me go. Several days later, while I was sleeping I received several texts from him: 

Mighty Duck: come over, its my birthday. [1:45am]

Mighty Duck: ??? [1:47am]

Mighty Duck: Are you on your way? [1:50am]

Mighty Duck: Come cuddle me warm [1:52am]

Mighty Duck: Guess you arent coming, but if you read this, come. [2:14am]

I ignored all of them and went on my merry way. That Thursday I ventured out on the town with gay bffls and our straight lady friend. We danced around with each other, drank obscene amounts, and had a grand time. When I got home I jumped on Grindr to see if anyone messaged me before clocking out, since it was 3am. I had several messages, one being from Mighty Duck.

"Guess you found someone to fuck tonight. Goodnight"

In my drunken stupor I decided to respond and see where this went. 

Me: Haha...whaaaat? Thats an odd greeting?

Mighty Duck: I saw you dancing with that black guy. You were dirty dancing.

Me: He is my bffl....and dirty dancing? Are we in middle school? Also did you see the white guy I was dancing with?

Mighty Duck: Yeah...is he who you are going to fuck tonight?

Me: So crude. No...the black guy and the white guy are dating. And the girl I was dancing with was a straight lady friend, not gonna fuck her either...no need to ask

Mighty Duck: So are you in bed with both the guys?

Me; No....also wtf? 

Mighty Duck: My point exactly, why didn't you talk to me

Me: I didn't see you. I was too busy figuring out which one of my unattainable friends I was going to sleep with. 

Mighty Duck: I knew it. If you aren't sleeping with them, you should come over.

Me: Really? Reaaaallly? I'm gonna go ahead and pass. Goodnight

Mighty Duck: No...come over. Now

Mighty Duck: Now?

Mighty Duck: Are you on your way?

Mighty Duck: When are you getting here

Mighty Duck: ??????

Mighty Duck: :(?

Mighty Duck: ? boo

As you can see, my new found stalker who happens to be Grandpa's ex is currently my deterrent from heading out on another random date with the "eligible" bachelors of Baltimore. (I also realized I have now dated a majority of the city #winning)

Fabulously Lost: 0 (I detracted .5 for this past date and gave it to Internet Dating)

Internet Dating: 12

Costumes: Best left to Nicki and Britney

Golden Girls: Only suitable activity for the late nights. 

Ducks and Dogs: Don't mix...unfortunate combo

Valentines Day: Sucky Holiday (unless you wanna be my valentine?)