So, last night I went with Thara and her friends to this gay club in San Francisco. At first, I wasn't sure I wanted to go ... fish or cut bait? Well, aint much fishing at a gay club for a breeder like me, and I was rather in the home groove. But I need to get out.
Now, not long ago, I went dancing with Jessica and after a little while it occured to us that we were the only heterosexuals in the joint. That was pretty neat. I figured, hey, gay clubs aren't so bad.
This wasn't the same thing. Imagine hundreds of men, mostly topless, dancing away. It was pretty interesting at first, with a couple guys on stage in g-strings and holiday attire. After not too long though ... it just seemed kind of blah. Men men men, everywhere. Thara was digging it, because, well, men men men everywhere, and gay party dudes tend to be pretty buff and down with the whole dancing thing.
But me? It was hot, it was stuffy, it was sweaty, and I just wasn't totally down with the music. Usually I at least will stick it out just for the sake of checking out the cuteys on the dance floor. But there were no cuteys on the dance floor. Well, there were a few, but they were hard to check out through the walls of man flesh that surrounded me on every side.
So I sat out much of the night, checking out the various couches, and playing the part of a shy wallflower reluctant to make too much eye contact with anyone. The scene was an interesting one to watch, and the time passed a lot quicker than I had thought. I got to drink a little, and chill with Vincent and this other dude whose name I don't recall. Only one guy bothered to hit on me, and I think Thara scared him off by coming by to chit-chat. Ah well, it was flattering and interesting to be on the receiving end of the mac. On the one hand, I wonder if I'd have been illuminated had I been more outgoing, but then I hate to lead a guy on.
So, what did I learn? I learned that a little bit of sexual tension helps me dance, but that I'm a little too straight to find any from a sea of sweaty men. Anything else? Eh ... fuck if I know.
I also had a hypothesis today that maybe the night's experience had kind of fucked with my mind a little, but in a good way. The meaning of sex and the importance of my own sex drive is something I tend to wonder about in relation to my longer-term goals of finding me one true love. All that sexual manliness was just unappealing to me, making sexuality seem less mystical and important. The anecdotal evidence suggests that when I stop looking, I find a compelling partner. I've been fortunate lately, when it comes to finding ladies, but where should I let the priority be? Stop looking? Maybe I'll find what I'm not looking for? Or continue being a single dawg, chasing after beaver?
Let's examine that last paragraph, I know someone was weirded out by that, as well as this whole fucking entry.
There's long-term relationships and there's short-term relationships. Until this year, I'd had mostly a few long-term relationships, and fewer, underexploited, short-term encounters. Now I know how to pimp it up, right?
So, I want to keep recruiting and executing? We do that a lot Tellme. It's fun, educational, illuminating, invigorating. I dig it.
But I'm also kind of dowdy, something of a loner ... someone who might be better off just confiding in someone I have a lot of faith in. Something more interesting than the Internet.
Lately, I've been thinking of goals ... what does Ms. Right have to offer? But then, who am I to impose superficial requirements or expectations on someone who would be wonderful in her own right? Or would it be more honest to suggest what I think I'm looking for, and compare that with the reality of what pops up.
And maybe it is just because the domestic situation is a mess, and here I mean I've pretty much surrendered the idea of making the apartment a nice, clean, olfactorily pleasing environment to live in and have decided to find my own place sans the less-tidy-than-dannyman roommate I have right now, that makes me think I need a more domestically-inclined influence in my life.
But I know if I start looking for a woman out of a motivation to help me keep my stuff clean and my clothes mended that I definately have a problem.
So maybe I should pimp it up while figuring out what I really want, and putting my domestic situation in order. If I can make my own life comfortable, I'll know if I'm comfortable with someone else.
Sounds like a decent conclusion.
But what has the reader not groked? Is it time to skip this babbling and actually try to explain something in prose graspable by humans who don't call themselves dannyman?
Big task, because I keep going back further in to this sort of all-encompassing crackpot theory of everything that I've been developing over time. Is it time to try and extract these grand notions and expose them to the light of peer review? Hrmmm. It is tempting, it is also a lot of work, that begs some organization, some real effort.
Hrmmm. Must marshall the resources to flesh out my domestic theses.
(I hope this isn't reading too much like Faulkner.)
Rather than jumping in to my grand theory of things, I instead wrote up a quick little text file trying to specify what I want in a woman. If you want to see this draft, let me know, and I'll send you a copy for you to critique. Someday I might publish it, but it's called "experimental" right now. You know, it is really 20 December right now? I'm going to get some sleep!
H O M E