Sunday, August 06, 2006

Where the Boys Are (Not)

Well, I found out where the boys are. On the street. Specifically, selling things on the street. This past weekend I've been asked out twice, which in one weekend is a hundred percent increase in solicitations during all of last year. I've had interactions with other guys that I've met on the street but every time I think it's going somewhere the conversation ends with no number exchange, no nothin'. But guys who work on the street must feel like they hold some jurisdiction. It's their street; you're just walking on it. That, or they just have more balls than other guys, which also seems probable. The first guy was actually a youth. 24 years old, but looked 16. He was selling jumbo flashlights, and he repeatedly asked to take me to lunch, and for my phone number. Sometimes no guys will ask me out for years, and then, some young guy is begging for me to go out with him. What the hell is that about? The next guy sells jewelry on the street. This is the second jewelry vender that asked me out. The first was Brazilian, and also spun house music. He was young and skinny, and I don't like house music or all that goes along with it, so I rejected him. This new guy is Israeli, but looks and talks and acts somehow exactly like Hank Azaria as the scuba instructor who sleeps with Debra Messing in 'Along Came Polly.' He was sort of cute, but had already made a pass at my friend in addition to me. I don't know, maybe I'll call him. Once, I made out with a street musician who asked me out on the street. He was one of those small Peruvian fellows who plays the Andean flute. So, I may as well go out with him, it's not like I haven't done this before. Besides, my weekend was full of shit. I met a comedian on the street that I sort of like. We chatted, but of course there was no follow through. Then dog I was pet sitting for had exploding diahrea all over the living room at 6:30 am on Saturday.

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