On a recent outing with a friend I encountered three very different guys. These guys accurately represent the types that I encounter on a regular basis and often fall for.
Waiting to meet my friend, I stood in his hotel lobby. A man, 45 or so, approached me with a grin. He made small talk: “How are you? Where are you from? What’s your name?” Then he made a comment that caught me off guard, “Long way to travel for a booty call”. I laughed and informed him that I was meeting a friend. He smiled again and let me know his room number for “when I was done”.
This certainly wasn’t the first time I had been propositioned by a stranger. In fact there have been three previous encounters with guys mistaking me for a hooker over the years. Maybe it’s something about the blonde spot in my hair, or it could be that I attract weirdo guys. Oy vey!
Arriving at the first bar I immediately caught the attention of a guy. He was dressed in a suit, a little much for where we were. I thought he might be straight when I heard him refer to me as “the faggot with blonde hair”. My first instinct was to deck him in the face, but my friend pulled me to the back of the bar. Later when we returned to a place near the suit guy, I caught him staring. “What are you looking at?” He mumbled and told me he wasn’t staring. “Why are you giving me angry eyes?” I received a drunken grin. “Not angry. You’re here with your boyfriend.” I rolled my eyes and informed him I wasn’t with my boyfriend, turning to leave.
At the second and final bar of my night I had a drink, still very much sober. I danced a little, the place was fairly empty, a rarity. A cute guy shyly approached me. We talked for a bit before I realized how late it was. My friend was heading to the next club, but I had an early meeting. Leaving as my friend hopped a cab, I walked with Shy Guy to the corner. He lived across the street and invited me back to his place for tea. I was hesitant, more interested in getting home. We talked for a while and eventually I crashed on his bed. It was a totally innocent night, not even a kiss. I didn’t leave him my number, I figure he’ll find me if there’s anything there.
The Perv, The Dick and The Nice Guy. These are the only types I encounter. A year ago I was with Biker Boy, he was an all around nice guy. The problem was that he was needy and I was distant. I’m sure we can all think of whom I’ll name as the dick in this case. However, I’m going to reach way back into the day when I was 18. I was dating Leo the DJ. Leo was a self-absorbed asshole that only thought about /with his dick. Now that I think about it, that isn’t any different from what I just went through, maybe it’s something with DJ’s. I’ve never really dated a perv but I run into them almost every day. From work to play and everywhere in between, guys that think I’m going to drop to my knees for them just crawl out of the woodwork.
The point? I choose the wrong guys. The wrong guys also choose me. There is this innate ability that I have when it comes to attracting the wrong guys. In an effort to save me from myself I’ve been exploring a new corner of the dating market. I’m dating the guys that I would usually shy away from. Thus far The Italian is doing alright. I’m doing my best to not get frustrated with him. We’re very different in the sense that he wants to be romantic and I want nothing to do with any of that mushy crap. For now, I’m just taking him a day at a time, no expectations.