One

If you’re in your twenties and not on the road to marriage (or a civil union), you date. No discussion.

I came to this city and thought, ‘I’m a grownup now. I should date.’ Granted, my path of online dating and the people I’ve met lead me to believe that my judgement is borked. In order to combat this condition called ‘single,’ as everyone must work to cure themselves lest they face society’s judgement, I employed OkCupid! to handle my arrangements. This didn’t really work out so well. I mean there are some great stories that I’ve gathered including:

• The time I realized I was the only person in a group of six people who hadn’t slept with everyone at the table either in an orgy or one-on-one.
• And the time I learned that hookups and I don’t mesh because I break into panic sweats and start making abortion jokes. When you’re gay and hooking up, there isn’t even a uterus in the room. So abortion jokes, aside from being awkward, are completely irrelevant to the proposed joining of two people in a thoughtless act of passion/sluttiness.

I’m also learning that there are many more tools I can employ in the pursuit of my cure, such as Grindr & Manhunt. The future is bright.

Two

Clubbing is not what I thought it was.

I like to dance. You aren’t supposed to really dance if you’re performing your peacock routine to bring boys to your yard. I really dance. I vacillate from dancing like I’m in the Lollipop Guild to Sasha Fierce. I like variety. My moves have won me… well, no one. I mean there was this one guy who said, ‘You have no shame! I love it.’

Also, to go clubbing, you have to be ready to say no. It’s ironic, but I’m nice when it comes to being a slut. I’m an ass in every other aspect of my life. I never want anyone to feel like I’m being an arrogant twink to their face if they’re trying to pick me up. Unless they’re actually physically trying to pick me up, I don’t like that loss of control. This means that I accidentally give out my number a lot. Once, this guy with a woman’s name kept asking me to spank him and I was too nice to say ‘No thanks,’ when he asked me what my phone number was. Clearly, I didn’t spank him but I did get a few awkward text messages the following week. For the record, I don’t sext. I’m a multitasker and if I’m sexting, chances are I’m also cooking dinner, working from home, and debating the best way to part my hair.

Three

Working out makes people think you’re a crazy health-nut.

I’m the worst healthy person ever. Not only do I work out six days a week, but I smoke seven days a week. I’m the guy who has a cigarette between his lips in the gym lobby as he powers outside after a spin class. On the plus side, I figure if I can breathe normally and run twelve miles without turning blue, my emphysema is a few years off. Someone asked me once in a spin class, ‘How do you manage to get here every Saturday morning?’ I responded with, ‘Well, cigarettes, a four-shot iced coffee, and a hookup that made me reconsider my standards.’ Honesty is not the best policy when you want people to think you’re healthy and balanced.

Four

Cooking is my therapy (aside from my actual therapy)

It’s nice to be able to relax, cook dinner, and have a glass of wine. I just wish I cooked normal things. In my overcompensation for health because I smoke like a mistress at a funeral, I cook healthy things. A lot. Being Italian, pasta cannot be ignored. So, I cook low-carb pasta. Here’s the trade-off with low carb pasta: it makes you bloat like the Goodyear blimp and gassier than a sulfur mine. It’s really hard to have a low-carb pasta feast and then have a friend call asking if you want to go out and party. Yeah, I’d love to party if I can submit to the ‘vapors’ in a corner all by myself without anyone judging me. Unfortunately, you can’t fart in a corner by yourself and still be considered the life of the party.

[Post-Edit Note: That is an actual sulfur mine photo. I didn’t know they really existed.]

Five

I am not cool.

I’m not. Really. I know that this may be hard to believe but I can’t stand Bon Iver, I hate wearing fake glasses for no reason, and I love going to bed at 10PM (in my own bed). There are so many things on the ‘What Makes Alex Not Cool List’ that even smoking can’t make me cool. The list includes winners such as ‘has conversations with his cat every morning,’ ‘thinks that all parties should start at 8PM and end promptly at 11PM,’ ‘doesn’t do recreational painkillers,’ and my favorite, ‘two beers and he’s gone.’

frankly, i dislike you. if i actually listened to you i wouldn’t be the cultured gem that i am today. i probably wouldn’t have done that thing in that camaro with that person, either. looking back, you may have been right about the camaro. in any case, i feel as if you and i need to break up. at the very least, i think we need a trial separation. see, lately, you keep nagging me. while i appreciate your input, i really think that you hold me back. it’s not me, it’s you.

remember that time you said,

hey, alex, midgets are people, too. you should stop treating them as little pocket people and just respect them as the wonderful people they are.

if i had listened to you about my pocket person obsession, i wouldn’t have the wonderful relationship that i have with my ghetto midget cubicle mate at work. any time that i’m down, i look over at that little ghetto nugget with his midget-sized dollar sign bling (do you know how hard it must be to find appropriately sized bling?), i just feel all happy inside. not in the dirty way, but in the way i just want to have him stand in the middle of the office and let me play ring toss with him. i just need to overcome the language barrier between us and i think we can make this work.

hey, alex, maybe you shouldn’t visit this arab man who you just met two days ago.

thankfully, i ignored you and your biases. i wouldn’t know some key phrases of arabic such as “Anta mutheerun jiddan,” which translates roughly as “You are so sexy.” I also wouldn’t have learned that there are some words which transcend language boundaries entirely.

simply put, conscience, you hold me back. i value your opinion, but if i want to play ring toss or learn a new language, you really ought to just keep quiet. i’ll ask you if i need some input. that said, any time that a stoplight party, a camaro, or an age difference of more than ten years comes up, feel free to chime in.

yours respectfully,

alex

1. not eat granola out of the box while sitting in bed watching tv
2. per above, no longer be tragic-granola-eating mess on weekdays
3. not leave bowls of oatmeal in my room. my bed is not a table.
4. wash my sheets more than i do. that’s all i’ll say about that.
5. be honest and also realize when honesty is the wrong choice
6. not obsess with my back fat. instead, will name my back fat and grow to love him.
7. stop confusing myself when it comes to dating. i’m always right.
8. perhaps stop smoking. well. not really. but i resolve to at least acknowledge how unhealthy it is
9. not eat out too much. instead, will learn gourmet culinary skills that will keep me happy at home
10. continue being inappropriate. dick jokes are really the best way to connect with people
11. stop flirting with the starbucks barista. it hasn’t gotten me anything but shame and splenda
12. start doing yoga. need to relax my mind and muscles. plus, bending like a pretzel is v hot. not v hot to get stuck and charlie horse. jenna jameson would not approve.
13. keep reading books. v concerned about becoming stupid lump.
14. not vomit on city streets. or at least, vomit in stationary manner, rather than as sort of vomiting dragon breathing vomit/fire down diversey at 1am
15. not follow any of these resolutions if by chance i don’t like them. instead, will remain true to myself in manner of self-help guru once i balance my chakras. or find out what my chakras actually are