|There's gold in that there stream!|
Or, maybe I'm just not being as honest with myself as I think I am.
One thing I love about Los Angeles is its multiculturalism. There are ethnic restaurannts all over the city; from the Nepalese restaurant I haven't yet tried, to the Japanese-Peruvian one I love.
And along with this multiculturalism come ethnic pride festivals. I mean if we can have LGBTQ pride, why not Bosnian pride? Stands to reason, right?
I'm going to admit to being a bit superficial here. I mean most gay men are, right? After all we spend hours and hours in the gym sculpting the perfect body either for health reasons, or to attract a date/mate or just a roll in the sheets. Or, to feel better about ourselves in general.
"Steve", an ex of my first partner, "Tom", falls into the last category. He had such low self-esteem growing up battling weight, fighting his homosexuality, and just being a nerd. His self-esteem was in the dumps, until after breaking up with Tom, he -like most gay men (except me)- eventually joined a gym. Steve worked out and developed a nice phyhsique and attracted a lot of attention. According to Tom, Steve then turned into a narcissistic pain in the bum. He'd lead men on and then dump them. Tom didn't like this new behavior or attitude as this was not the man Tom had fallen in love with. Steve explained it this way, he'd had so little positive attention growing up, he felt he needed this attention to improve his self-image. I'm not sure I buy it, but it does sort of make some sense.
After Tom died, I lost contact with Steve.
But, back to my superficiality and LA's multiculturalism. And how they connect.
I will admit to being drawn to a handsome face. Sounds normal, right? And to a nice body, too. Again, I'm only human, and a gay male. So, it all makes sense. So far.
I openly admit, here and now I have friended men on Facebook simply because of that attraction. I have no connection to them, except they are gay and male. And I find them very attractive or even effing hot. Some of them are actors/models/waiters with a promotional fanpage, okay, they asked me to friend them. So why not? However, most of the handsome men I friend are regular people; doctors, lawyers, television news anchors. etc. Some of them pop up commenting on friends' pages and I see them and, well, check them out. And send a friend request. They ususally add me. I call it networking!
And the delusions begin.
The delusion of meeting, and hopefully becoming real friends (or maybe more). And the closer they live to Los Angeles, the more earnest the delusion. In all seriousness, I do recognize the folly of this, especially after this weekend. Yet, I continue to do it.
I had friended a particular man who, in my most humble opinion, was very handsome, and very well developed. I mean, VERY WELL DEVELOPED. (He doesn't have a six-pack, but a twelve pack!) He'd had some professional photos taken, posted some on Facebook, all very tasteful and, yes, some were shirtless so, he has attracted quite a lot of friends, and admirers, I daresay. He posted on his page he would be working a particular food booth at a certain ethnic festival happening four miles from my house. I mean, I'd be stupid not to stop by and say hello, right? And have some lunch from one of my favorite cuisines. Perhaps even flirt a bit. Makes perfect sense to me.
So, I planned my day around it. A couple of errands, and a stop at the festival for lunch and get a gander at this hunk. In the flesh, so to speak. And maybe talk to him, for real. I hoped. Maybe even get a date with him!
I started to get ready; after my morning shower I shaved, on the SUNDAY of a three-day weekend, forcrissake! I chose a somewhat form fitting t-shirt that showed I might have some chest definition, and it was in a color that accentuated the gray in my beard and drew out the color in my eyes. Then I realized, I was primping and preening, turning into a peacock to attract this guy's attention. And why? He was so hot, I wanted him to notice me, and in so doing I would feel better about myself. At last, I understood Steve's comment.
I drove to the festival, parked and walked back to it, making a beeline to find his booth. There he was, at the grill! OMGs! He was cooking!! A handsome hunk who could cook!! I'm in love. (And nearly married!)
Alas, the gods intervened. The place was sooooo crowded, and it being lunchtime, his booth was overrun with hungry people. I should have realized that lunchtime might be a factor, but did not anticipate the popularity of the festival, both of which prevented our eyes from meeting across a crowded ethnic festival. I mean, I walked by that booth at least three times. I thought of ordering from his booth, but there was still no guarantee he would take my order, allowing our eyes to meet or our hands to touch when he handed me the plate. So, I ended up eating something else, and walked around the festival a couple times. Yes, I circled his booth a time or two or three.
The delusions began when, in my head, we did meet, he liked me and we started seeing each other. Am I not being honest enough with myself when I say I'm not looking for a relationship? Or was I caught up by a pair of biceps big enough to crush a watermelon? Or was it his crystal blue eyes? (I'm actually partial to brown!)
Maybe, I'm not actively looking, but just waiting for someone who catches my eye.
And I catch his.
And it's mutual.