I wanted to be "Cornteeth" but it was taken

My first good date and more pictures of potential suitors- who are slowly turning me gay

December 14, 2004 - 1:13 p.m.

<%@LANGUAGE="JAVASCRIPT" CODEPAGE="1252"%> Untitled Document Last weekend I had a date that I was sooo excited about I refused to even mention it here or to my friends for fear of the Jinx, but really the mere intake of oxygen into my lungs and beating of my heart is what generates the power of the Jinx so it doesn't matter anyway.

Here's the story: this guy saw my profile on a dating site and then he saw me in a bar and recognized me right away, which is sheer madness considering that I look nothing at all like my online photos, even on my cutest day. That day I looked like microwaved pork-fried ASS after working a thousand hours that week, being dragged out to WACKWACKWACK Wicker Park bars by my tool friends, with me dressed like shit, 5 months past due in a haircut, and Samsonite luggage chillin’ under my purty eyes.

The whole time we were there I complained bitterly, alternately turning to each friend.

“This bar fucking sucks.”

“If we were on a scavenger hunt right now, and we came into this bar requesting a PAY STUB from someone, anyone, we would not find one in the lot of 100 people, not even the bartender who probably works for free because he’s all DOWN WITH THE MAN AND SHIT. NOBODY here has a job and they all have bed head.”

“I refuse to support a dirty Messenger Boy. More like Massengill Boy, because he’s got douche juice running through his veins and washing over his temporal lobe. GET A JOB HIPSTER QUEER.”

And so on.

I happened to notice a guy with a very rare jacket on, with a unique word on the back. I didn’t see his face, he was walking away. More bitching.

The next day I got an email from a guy, and he sent me a picture with him wearing the exact same jacket.

I wrote him back: “Uh, Hi. Is that a Blah jacket you are wearing in that picture? Because I just saw that very same jacket on someone standing in front of me at the bar last night. Weird. Maybe it was you.”

And he said, “I saw you first. I recognized you right away. Want to meet for a beer? Same time, same place?”

And I was all, “Friday is not good for me [because I need a few days to freak the fuck out] so maybe we can meet on Saturday [after I’ve had a complete makeover]?”

It was agreed.

We exchanged a few emails, getting to know one another, and he is AWESOME, and was yanking words out of my mouth left and right. I was floored by his profile, it was like reading my own thoughts in someone else's handwriting. Last Friday when I went over to Belle's crib to play Karaoke with him and Hardon, I walked in and said, "You guys...I think I just got an email from my future husband." Let me just remind you, that as a general rule of thumb, I dislike most people. I communicate with men on these dating sites all the time but never mention it here because they are not worth mentioning. But this one…this one has everything.

He’s a jet pilot.

Educated, well traveled, and handsome and sweet as pie.

*Sigh*

For you queers who believe in fate, which I don’t, but for your own esoteric and deluded pleasure, the following factors made for some pretty interesting coincidences:

(Remember, this is a Metropolis of over 3 million people, not Mayberry.)

--Out of the 288 square miles to choose from, he lives a couple of blocks from me.

--I tried desperately to get a few different apartments on his block, but failed.

--We’ve been going to the same bars for 7 years.

--(288 sq miles) He used to live at 1400 N. Paulina, and I lived at 1500 N. Paulina at the same time.

--He made reservations to eat at a restaurant that is right next door to the salon that I had just had my hair cut in hours before. The two businesses actually share a front door.

--The restaurant had a hookah on every table and sexy belly dancers. HELLO how did he know that I love the hookah?? [this isn’t something that I normally bring up during the getting-to-know-you phase – “Hey, guess what I like to smoke!”]

--We have almost the exact same phone number, with two numbers switched. (773) 555-1234 + (773) 555-2214 = what are the odds?

Things that I did to prepare for the most anticipated date I’ve had in forever:

--Full body fake spray-on tan because my skin gets kind of transparent this time of year. $35.

--Purchase of new shirt, $20. (not bad).

--Haircut at #1 salon in Chicago, because I just couldn’t risk a bad one. $88. THAT’S TWO EIGHTS YOU SEE THERE. Can you believe that? It looks amazing, but still - it was just scissors shearing off split ends, in your standard chair with standard smock. But it still looked good the next morning when I was hung over with the face of a 60 year-old basset hound.

--Briefly daydream about dating a pilot, and flying to tropical islands for a romantic weekend

--Gnawed on my hands mercilessly, producing bloody stumps, for the 12 hours leading up to the date.

--Ran in circles, pacing, throwing clothing all over the room, changing outfits 6 times, including bra and underwear.

--Borderline anxiety attack, unsure what to do with the growing anticipation that was causing my head to explode.

--Profuse sweating/cardiac arrest at the sound of the doorbell, with the bell sound amplified 300 times in my mind, some minor visual hallucinations (such as “seeing” heat and sound), and upon opening the door for him, momentary blindness.

*Sigh*

Talk talk, great. Laugh laugh, great. Profound, meaningful, high-five, Hell Yeah Brutha, eye-to-eye, great great great. We got along like peas and carrots. This is very scary for me.

Seriously, ya'll, what am I supposed to do now?

More potential suitors:

Cubicle guy with inspirational posters in background. Looks like he’s had FTM sexual reassignment surgery.