groovy douchebag

andy pink, route city, nevada —

skippy the hippie —

so i went on a bit of a date last night — we ended up going for an 8 mile walk downtown and uptown, and just conversation. we have been texting for three or so weeks, but this is the first time we had met. i had made it clear that i was not interested in “cuddling,” which was his original invitation — the problem mostly is mine, he was darker than tall dark — i told him it was my problem and not his but i suppose that kind of discrimination — there is no accounting for either taste or prejudice — could turn someone sour. anyway, he was kind of the hippie groovy type — which is precisely not me — and he didn’t have much edge or soul, and, in the end, he sounded a bit like noise. he is a college drop-out but my age, he cleans offices, he lives near me (by which i mean: same borough), and we would have been a good match except for the off chance that we were not.

there were several issues that really bothered me:

1. i told him my story about trevor and how he was the first man that i had ever fallen in love with, at the age of 34. he said that i probably had never “let myself fall in love” — this is after spending all of about 35 min in my physical presence. this bothered me tremendously, it was basically a deal breaker only a mile into our 8 miles. i don’t really understand where people get off making such comments (judgments) — i suppose people like to project themselves above and beyond others so, to do, they like to contain them in a stunted or displaced position. perhaps my story was just unfathomable to him. he obviously didn’t see the beauty in the story, which makes him the kind of “groovy douchebag” i may have referenced in the title to this entry. i told him that my childhood (specifically my mom and dad) had set the bar very high for me — “unambiguously good,” i mentioned in an earlier entry — and so the bar was high. it is quite remarkable, i think, that i ever even fell in love at all, and of course it speaks much of trevor. although trevor was kind and sweet and soothing and caring — those were the remarkable actions of his being-in-the-world — what makes me love him is his character, i guess i would put it, which transcends any discrete actions and summarizes him well, which i won’t do at the moment. i’ve just never met anyone quite so lovely. groovy douchebag (i’m tempted to say: hippie immigrant) does not match to that of course, and part of it was this quick will to judge me.

2. i also told him that i had fallen out of favor with sex (though on our walk i pointed out various spots (mostly bathrooms) where i have given blow jobs over the years) — he also seemed sort of taken aback or judgmental about that, distance from sex, not sure why, maybe it seemed weird to him. i think he wanted to pull a sort of liberated or emancipated view of himself and project a kind of repression or inhibition on me — but in the end that may not have even been the case, though he could easily have made such a silly, slavish move. downtown, i took him to the building i teach in, one of the classrooms, there was a student in it, waiting for some student activity to commence, we played some music, i flirted with this student girl for some reason, and then we left. i ate carrots and grapes along the way, for some reason i offered up a protein bar to dredlocked douchbag, and then when we returned to my (our) neighborhood i exited, but not before he got in some dig about my age and looks or something (i suppose my grindr photo is more flattering than i look in real life, i don’t know) — in any case, he had no real interest in my academic and intellectual pursuits, he wrongly referred to a work of nietzsche’s “metamorphosis” (which is actually by kafka, embarrassing, unless there are two, though no) — i went off on my various marxist rants since we were variously dodging sad homeless people and obscene commercial billboards, he tried to go to the “baroque” but he didn’t have much on that, we talked a lot about relationships, he seems to be in love with his best friend and i am still mostly in love with trevor. oh — and when i gave him my line about how i thought it would be quite lovely to only fall in love once in my life he retorted with “i really like love” — i suppose that meant that my future love chastity is somehow an index of anti-love — stupid comment, and again one to elevate oneself about the rabble. with a phd and a college drop-out — no offense — the rabble, if there is such, is on his end. i am about the last of the elitists, i don’t much care about education in a mate — or really even in a friend, at least formal education — but i think grooving endlessly on music and pointing out flowers and bushes (which utterly bore me) is — how did shania twain put it? — that don’t impress me much.

in sum: this reminded me of how much i dislike dates even if they are up front anti-dates. i shall avoid from hereon, i need more local friends (above my diaspora five) and so i will try to make them. groovy douchebag is not one of them. if i should run into him at a drum circle cock fest or a fire pit circle jerk — i will perhaps recall that i am still not in love and remind him that he owes me a protein bar (a return i would never consider accepting).

off to trader joe’s, then salad for lunch, work on manuscript in the afternoon, work on freud and nietzsche for classes, i see the med doctors tomorrow and will ask to go from wellbutrin 75 immediate to 150 extended, exercise at 11:30, don’t teach again till thursday because of the holiday (off tuesday and wednesday, per normal schedule).

as an index: i got home from the date about 9 and vigorously tried to masturbate — possibly for about 45 min or so — and was unable to ejaculate. i think i was turned-off by his scarf. it lingered.

also: he was really into the sense of olfactory — totally boring and unmemorable for me. i feel that people who are really into scents and pheromones etc are pretty unremarkable. maybe this is why i don’t like tea.

andy