A chilled glass of white wine (always my pre-drink) in hand, I’m sitting across from my renewed “friend” from Beijing as he tells me his “story”, we all have a story. This “friend” is someone I found on match.com over 6 years ago and had exactly 1 drink with him at a neighborhood bar in DC and never have heard from him since. That is until a few days ago when he sends me this long torrid email about how he is heart broken, a love affair gone badly.
What am I? Ann Landers?
He’s cute, course at my age, without glasses, any Asian looks cute. He’s gay’er than I remember. He buffed up his little body, tiny muscles strain against his shirt which is apparently one size too small. He speaks with the classic, “I’ve done sucked some cock” voice that we would all recognize. He’s emotional.
The story is just as he wrote, he has fallen in love with a work colleague who has rebuffed him and instead opted for a younger hotter twinkier boy toy who is he planning on taking to Thailand and showing him how a rice paddy works. It’s a story oft repeated, change the country, the color of the skin but I suggest always keeping the rice paddy piece.
He is truly in love, jaded and even a tad mad. He starts to cry at one point about how he’s invested so much time in this non-lover only for it not to be. It’s not going to work out with the twink boy and he’ll be back soon enough when he realizes what he is missing. Another timeless story in the homo world. Only they never come back do they?
At the heart of the matter, my Beijing friend is 33 years old and has had only a scant handfuls of what you might even remotely deem a relationship. One guy borrowed money from him and slowly repaid it with much agony. Another dumped him and he another. And now he’s wasted nearly 1 year chasing someone he has fallen in love with only to be left at the altar. The reality my friend is lonely and scared.
He professes to jerking off all the time. Which I find perfectly acceptable dinner conversation as long as it before the main course. He tears up again. My god man, hold it together. His job in television has made him a vagabond, scant time to make new relationships and little time for the cement to set. He’s getting older and this cassette seems to only have one side.
This story isn’t limited the gay world, straight people struggle as well. Woman are patrolling for a husband from 27-34 and despite the laughter, the underlying game is dead serious. Wait too long and then you’re trolling for women who didn’t get married, usually because they spent too many hours with their legs spread. Or find the newly divorced, those difficult women who men just want to run away from and finally the appendages, those women divorced with children and a story 8 miles long. The good women would seem to always be married, happy and living in the ‘burbs.
The simple fact is it gets harder to find someone you can truly connect with later in life. Straight, gay or otherwise (which is my category).
But why did he contact me? Did we have unfinished business? It’s just strange when in in fact he seemed pretty normal. He professed that he always had remembered me for my manners (I know the right fork to use) and balanced sense of things and thought I would give him the right advice. Alas, I’m out of the advice business, having long ago lost my best client (me).
I rushed home to Scrappy who was trolling about the apartment muttering to himself I was on a date with some Asian and was going to cheat on him. He growled and growled about how much attention I could show to other boys and how he got scant. I dragged him off to bed and promptly fell asleep (he was still growling)