The Gays That Want Me I Do Not Want At All

Why Is It The Men That Want Me I Don't Want At All? - Don't Get Me Started!

So in writing yesterday's blog entry I discovered that I say, "but that's a blog for another day" way too much because I don't ever end up writing "those" blogs that I'm supposedly waiting to write for a rainy (or should I say creatively dry) day. Well the reference in yesterday's blog (The G-A-A-A-Y Triple Threat ) was about the sometimes scary people (okay let's just say it, men) that I seem to attract when out in public. Now here's the big new flash, I do not feel that I am a looker in any stretch of the imagination. In my younger days I think I could have been considered, "cute" but my possible boy toy days are now most certainly behind me (the only way I could hope to be a boy toy now would be to find someone approximately 85 years old, I think it goes up five years for every year you put on so I'll be having to look for someone in their 90's before the end of the year). And before I go any further, please know that I am in no way implying that I have a lot of men who what I call, "hubba hubba" me on any kind of regular basis. No, I'm not one of the hit upon in life but in those rare moments when it does happen, it's always the same type. Why is it the men that want me I don't want at all? - Don't Get Me Started!

For those of you who have read any of my blogs or the Prologue page on this site, you know that I have been very fortunate that I have had the same six foot black man in my life for over 18 years now. We're in a completely monogamous relationship so believe me when I say I'm not looking but every once in awhile it seems that a man is looking at me and when he is, it's never pretty. Now whether you're in a relationship of not, I don't care what anyone says, it's nice to have someone "show some interest" in you if only to let you know that the time you spent showering, shaving and clothing yourself that day paid off a little.

And so it would come to pass that I was in line at Trader Joe's (my favorite trendy grocery store) and I was waiting in line to pay. Now this gal who works there that I've grown to know over the years (a sassy red haired lesbian that always chastises me for not going out to the latest drag show or gayer than gay event). She started yelling at me for not noticing her recent haircut. So we had a pretty good homosexual banter going back and forth when suddenly I feel like someone is staring at me. Well, there he was, right in front of me in line in all his glory. He had to be in his mid to late sixties (but his hair was about two weeks old and as dark as black shoe polish) and he was wearing one of those jogging suits that make that crinkly noise every time you take a breath. Now from the look of him, the suit was really about the fashion he thought he was sporting because he had a gut the size of a ten month pregnant woman and gave the appearance of never having worked out a day in his life. He had on these large black rectangular framed glasses that made him look as though he was trying to look like Karl Lagerfeld (unsuccessfully, I might add). Meanwhile, he was doing something that just repulses me, he had opened one of the items he was about to purchase and was eating in line. At closer examination, I discovered that they were in fact one of those, "100 calorie" packs of crackers or something. Who was this fatty boomba latty kidding? There was no way he was going to be sated by one package of these things.

I don't know if he was trying to tempt me with the way he was eating the 20 calories in his hand or what, but here's a tip for you older men, don't try to be all sexy in a grocery store line with a low calorie cracker. You're no Kim Basinger in 9 ½ weeks. But there he was doing the whole look you up and down and all around thing and I felt like I couldn't get out of there fast enough or scrub myself down enough (think Meryl Streep in Silkwood).

As I was telling one of my pals, I think most guys get hit on by other guys that are similar to their age or even their type but when it comes to me, I always get the older guys with little or over-styled hair wearing the big Sally Jesse glasses that open the conversation with the word, "Say..." with twenty "S's" in it. Oh dear God, it just occurred to me, is that what I am? Is that how I appear to others and that's why I'm attracting that type? Say (with one "S") it isn't so. The one thing I do know is that this is why I could never be single again. Thank God, there was someone looking out for me when they made my guy interested in me but I have to wonder, why is it the men that want me I don't want at all? - Don't Get Me Started!

Read more Scott @ www.somelikeitscott.com

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livelonger 9 years ago from San Francisco

Honey, we all suffer it. I get the trolls grinning at me, and I wrestle with taking it as a compliment and feeling bad that someone that hideous thinks he's in the same league as me. And why is it that you have to be a 65-year-old letch to get the shoe-polish black hair toupees?

Then again, when I smile at a cute boy and he gives me the eye-roll, I wonder for a second if I look like that old letch. Then again, my hair's all still there and I haven't had to start dyeing just yet...

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