Black Party Weekend begins in one hour and forty minutes.

A funny thing. Over the past few months, on a few of the blogs that I've read, people have been embarking on relationships. I was shocked at the level of my cynicism. Truly. I'd be reading about these budding blossoming relationships and I'd be smirking to myself, and often saying out loud, "Fools! You're gonna regret that!" In once case, that prediction came true. I've sort of come to see most relationships as happenstance couplings permitted by self-delusion and a lack of critical thinking about the other person. I know! Can you believe me? Here I am. Mr. Single Guy. I got no strings to hold me down.

So today I read dogpoet's blog. Therein, he reflects on the bar where he used to work, and ends up thinking that what he'd really like is a steady eddie. As I read, I started to get peevish at his descriptions of the ol' empty life of sexually active gay man,' but then when he wrapped it all up with, "I want to date somebody," I was right there with him.

Yeah. Me, too.

Special Guy called. He had to cancel our gym date tonight. I'm kind of disappointed by that. I mean, I know it's ovah between me and Special Guy. If he wanted me back, I wouldn't go back. But still, dating Special Guy was a taste of honey, and as we all know, that's worse than none at all.

Bear with me whilst I ennumberate his better qualities...

• Special Guy was hot. Damn not. Taller than me. Hairy all over. Big beautiful nips the way Tom of Finland men have nips. He was big and butch.
  
• Special Guy never ever got angry with me. He never even got pissy with me.
  
• Special Guy knew theology, philosophy, art history, music, psychology, and a host of other things and could talk about them with me at length. Oh. And kinky sex. Special Guy knew kinky sex.
  
• Special Guy had a generally sunny disposition. He wasn't moody or depressive. He let things roll off his back.
  
• Special Guy was up for anything in bed.
  
• Special Guy made me feel special. That night on Christopher Street in the pouring rain, when he handed me a rose, kissed me deeply, and said, "I wanna be boyfriends with you," that was one of the peak moments of my life. It was totally Molly Bloom's soliloquy. Special Guy liked me, he thought I was hot, and he let me know that. Because here's a secret, folks: I am not always convinced that I'm likeable or hot.
  
• Special Guy set my imagination on fire. I just felt that there was so much that I could be and do with him that I couldn't be and do on my own.
  
• When Special Guy had a problem, he would talk to me about it, and listen to my thoughts, and I would help him. It's great to be able to do that for someone. And, Special Guy would always say just what I needed to hear.
  
• I could have an argument with Special Guy--I mean, we could totally disagree about something--and it would be fine.
  
• Special Guy was in touch with his feelings in ways that I am not. But when I was with him, I felt. He made me happy.
  
• I never felt that I had to watch myself when I was with Special Guy. I could just relax.
  

*sigh*

I could go on. And on. And on. But I'll stop here.

Here's the deal though. In this, the post-Special Guy period of my life, the bar is raised pretty high. Before Special Guy, I tended to settle. I dated men because they wanted to date me, and I never thought too much about compatibility, because I assumed that someone with my deficits had to take what he could get. But Special Guy really showed me that in fact there is at least one man out there in the world woh would be a good, solid match for me.I'd have to check back in my blog archives to verify this, but my recollection is that while I was with Special Guy, I really had no complaints. To be sure, there were things that I wished were different about him, but overall, I don't know that I ever called up Baron von Philadelphia or anyone else and began a conversation with "He is driving me crazy!"

So yeah, I want to meet a guy and have a steady eddie. But it would have to be a guy as good as or better than Special Guy.

Maybe I'll meet him at the Black Party. You laugh? Stranger things have happened. I met Special Guy at the Dug Out during Sunday Beer Blast.

Speaking of the Black Party, I dearly hope that I'm not getting into a 'mood.' I hope I'm not going to be standing there in the Roseland Ballroom trying to have a conversation with some guy that is intent only on getting into my pants. That is soooo totally not the right headspace.

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