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12:35 a.m. - January 07, 2004 Poor table manners make me leave a restaurant in spirit, if not physically. But I checked out tonight. My response to Ryan II is immature itself. I fuck everything up. Is there someone who walks in front of me shouting Leper! Beware! and the people I date are those hapless fellows who didn�t hear the warning? It isn�t wrong or immature to realize intellectual � hell, I�ll settle for plain stimulating - conversation won�t happen, that we cannot forge a dynamism that takes life and roars. Maybe I�m some snob, maybe I have unrealistic expectations and should be grateful that a so-called hottie has taken interest in me and isn�t eye or arm candy better than being alone? For others maybe, but not me. And why do I feel the need to excuse myself, defend my unease and turnedoffness in the first place? The only good thing I can think of about gay men is that the longer I explore, the more I find those whose lives don�t revolve around bars, clubs, fashion, sex, and castigating others who don�t fit into the fairy mold � you know, the haters, the fatties, the so yesterday. As much as I want to check out permanently from the skullduggery that is the I�m-gay-and-tragically-so world I�m in, I�m struck by the notion that there are many smelly fish in the sea covering up the good finds. And what the hell is up with me dating guys who say they�re tops but are actually bottoms? I mean Jesus, between Spec and Ryan II I�m unsure what the hell I even like now and damn it, I have pro forma attachments to labels and the predictable. No changes, no surprises, no substitutions! I�m annoyed.
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