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He is good at one thing, which he has been doing at the highest level for barely twelve months.
What's more, the team he was driving for have been stripped of all their championship points for the year and fined close to 0 million because they were fucking cheating! I just do not see what gives this guttersnipe the right to burden us with his twelve month story.
And there's no obvious signs to me that the date went horribly wrong, other than, you know, the flatulence, and the inevitable revelation of my sex-change scars.Okay, I haven't really had much to say lately, so for the 7 people who might actually read this blog, sorry. I suppose there's little to complain about: I'm making money, doing fun DJ gigs, seeing the world; I've got my health (and, so my doctor says, a record-low cholesterol level--who knows how that happened, I mean, it's not like I'm shoving steak into my mouth for every meal but I'm no vegan... Really, I just realized I don't know how to "woo," in the gay world.I have a couple good excuses: Coachella, which I talked about here, and here, and here, and then some vacation time that ended up being work time in a hotel room, and some So Cal gigs. maybe it's all the oatmeal, scrubbing away my veins like a crack team of those Scrubbing Bubbles I used to love). I find the Neil Strauss "game" stuff fascinating, actually -- as someone who's never had a natural ability to chat people up, and stumbles horribly at small talk or official meetings, I'm attracted to the idea that there are lessons, rules, things you can practice that can at least open the door for someone to pay attention to you. Okay, sure, that last one is probably another expression of the rule I tell all my friends who date men: "Guys Say Stuff." Indeed we do, and sure, I've been as guilty as anyone in feigning interest in, I dunno, fashion or business or cats, just to try and, um, how do you say, "score." I mean, hell, I've even managed to go on dates with guys who turn out to be Republicans, and I'll pretend that doesn't make me hurl just long enough to maybe get some makeouts. People you think are friends mock you bitterly behind your back, friends who proclaim their absolute adoration of you also do so much annoying crap you can barely stand to be around them, people take your attempts at the tiptoe-iest "I feel x, y, and z"-style expressions of disappointment as huge insults, and guys you go on dates with, and say lots of nice stuff on the dates, never call you again.
Or is it just that no gay dudes are interested in second dates?