Fat Eyes

Maybe He's Not a Catfish?

Fat Eyes
Photo by Milos Prelevic on Unsplash

At this point in my life I've come to realize that I'm not really good at relationships. It's not my fault if you think about it because growing up I never had a well-functioning relationship in my family that I could watch and learn from. Unless you count my grandmother angrily washing dishes with the fire and furry of a thousand suns in her eyes, pretending to ignore the sound of "Burning Ring of Fire" by Jonny Cash being blared at a deafening level causing the entire house to shake healthy. So when I finally meet a guy that I'm interested in I unintentionally and do any and everything possible to fuck it up and I am once again left sad and alone with nothing but a bottle of red and monstercockland.com to keep me company. This, my dear friends, is yet another prime example of one of those instances…

I'm very vocal about my usage of the iPhone apps such as Grindr and Scruff. Unlike most gay men of our time I feel absolutely no shame in my friends knowledge of this because I know that my reasons for using apps like these are absolutely nothing to be ashamed of. Meeting guys in the area, getting to know them, and possibly exchanging a dirty picture or two is neither scandalous or dangerous for that matter. I only use it because I, like most single gay men (and hell, single straight people too for that matter), am incredibly lonely and it feels nice to have someone to flirt with or even better tell me that I'm sexy and that he wants to fuck my brains out even tho in the long run I have no intention of ever meeting this man in person. Validation kids, that's what it's all about. Didn't get enough love in my childhood so as an adult I gotta take it anywhere I can get it. Lucky for us we live in an era where instant validation is available in the palm of your hand 24 hours a day. Ah, technology… gotta love it!

Chatting with a guy on Grindr is obviously nothing new or crazy, but getting a message that reads "so is that you that I'm watching jerk off through your bedroom window right now" is a bit much to say the least. It was not me, believe it or not, but I continued chatting with him anyway. He seemed nice and was very complimentary (otherwise I wouldn't have been talking to him… let's get serious) but was always trying to get me to come over to his apartment which was not an option. If I'm gonna meet someone I have no friends in common with for the first time, you better believe it's going to be in a public place. It always seems that as soon as I turn down a guy on one of these apps he immediately starts mind gaming me by trying to bully me into changing my decision. That actually somehow worked on me once, but most of the time I would just tell him to fuck off and then block him. For whatever reason I never blocked this guy and without fail 2 or 3 times a week he'd be back chatting me up and trying to get me to come over.

One night as we were chatting I had mentioned something about teaching flying trapeze and he then proceeded to send me multiple pictures of him doing various aerial acts including silks and a static trapeze. I noticed that one of the pictures he had sent was taken at the same school where I was currently working and mentioned to him that I worked there. He replied "what's that?" That, was not only the building in which the picture was taken, but one of the 4 places in the city where you can train for aerial work. Everyone does "flys" in the city knows this school. Everyone. At that moment, after about a month of back-and-forth, it became crystal clear that this profile was a fake. I called him out on it which of course resulted in Bitchfest 2012 via Grindr messages but my favorite part was his response to my question "What the hell did you think was gonna happen when you opened your door and I'm staring at a completely different person?" I don't remember the exact quote but it was something to the degree of "You'd be lucky to get to sleep with me. I'm more beautiful and sexy than you ever will be and the guys I fuck look like the porn stars you can only dream of!" Um, he clearly doesn't read this blog because I got news for you ma'am… I fuck porn stars!!! (Including a more recent guy who I promised to keep out of the blog… cue placement of halo on my head)

Well a couple of weeks later my friend and I were getting ready to start fundraising for Broadway Bares season and did some picture stalking on the new fundraising website. Couldn't help but notice a familiar face on one of the profiles and decided to turn that into some Facebook stalking. And there it was… Every single picture that douche had sent me had been directly stolen off of this guys Facebook page. The guy was hot, clearly, but I decided not to be a complete creeper and just kept it to stalking and not send him a message or a friend request mostly because I didn't want him to think that I was just batshit-ass crazy. The week before the show, however, I was a little tipsy at a big group fundraiser and saw him standing by the door talking to a friend and looking pretty damn sexy. Somehow I decided that introducing myself and telling him the story of what happened wearing nothing but tube socks, a kilt, and some bad eye makeup was totally less creepy than a friend request. And that is how I met Fat Eyes.

The nickname Fat Eyes wasn't actually given to him by me. It came from a friend and co-worker of his that we would hang out with because Fat Eyes (like most gay men, especially dancers) have extreme body dysmorphia and even tho he was a personal trainer and there wasn't an ounce of fat to be found on him he still thought he was equivalent to the hippo ballerinas in Disney's Fantasia. That, and the fact the he had giant round Bambi eyes. (Two Disney references at once… I think I just out-gayed myself) We didn't really speak a lot that first night because my team was off to go raise more money at other bars (and went on to win that year's fundraiser I might add) but once Bares weekend rolled around we chatted a lot and really had a good time together. I had a good friend that was in his number that year (one of my favorites from that year's show) so he made an excellent wing man for the two of us.

Needless to say we hit it off pretty well so I invited him to join my friends and me for brunch and parade/people watching at Pride that following Sunday. It's the only NYC Pride I had off of work since I had lived in the city because that also happened to be the year that I worked 9 different jobs (and was somehow only fired from one of them… weird) so I was ready to live it up like a boss. We started off with unlimited (and discounted) mimosas at the restaurant in Chelsea I had just started at (and then became the bar manager in less than a month… should've been a clue that that place wasn't going to be open much longer) and then we moseyed on down to The Duplex where a friend was working and got us in for free. Not much different than my other day-drinking adventures except for the parade happening outside of the window but we did randomly eat candy off of some strangers' candy necklaces and then attempted to give each other blow-jobs in the world's smallest employee restroom. Luckily the toilet was raised up a little bit so that made it kind of easier. Eventually the sun started to set and we decided to head back to my place and eat our weight in Dominos and shower the day's stink off of us.

Once the pizza and cheesy bread had been completely annihilated the time came for a nice shower before what I knew was gonna be a fun romp in the sheets. I had made comments before about how I felt about his perfect specimen of the male ass the he carried around on his backside, but it wasn't until we got naked in the shower with my hands around it did I truly appreciate its smooth, rounded awesomeness. Maybe it was the perfect ass, maybe it was the jello shots, maybe it was the euphoric feeling that comes with celebrating Pride with your fellow homosexuals by getting drunk and dressing slutty, or maybe it was just a combination of everything. No matter the reason, I used this shower opportunity to go ahead and ask Fat Eyes (who I had known for all of a week and a half) to be my boyfriend. Shockingly enough, he said yes. Maybe we were both high on jello and endorphins by then, but we most definitely went full-lesbian on each other and somehow felt good about the decision.

Once we started spending more time together I sort of realized that we were actually almost complete opposites. I mean, I'm all for opposites attract but sitting at a coffee shop in Bushwick sipping black coffee and listening to emo banjo music is about as far my idea of a good time as I can possibly imagine. Not that we didn't enjoy each other's company, but it just sort of made realize that rushing into things probably wasn't the best of ideas. Plus him having 6am clients and me not getting out of work until 1am didn't really help us get to spend any time together even though our jobs were 5 blocks away from each other. The biggest "red flag" as I like to call them came on the ferry back from Fire Island one Sunday after we had spent the day enjoying the sun and having a nice "reading room" session with my favorite house full of catty gays (all out of love for each other of course) ending with a make-out session while watching the sun set over the bay (couldn't have timed that one better if I tried). I decided to tell him about how I felt about him and the situation and basically hit all the bases and had a sensible 5 minute monologue explaining how and why I cared about him. He respond with "OK." That's it? OK is all I get after that?? And it was that moment that I realized that he was completely emotionally unavailable and that there was no way it was gonna work.

We still texted and hung out after that but it eventually drizzled off and we became and remain just friends. There was a moment last summer when I thought there was a chance of there being another little spark there between us but that thought was thwarted once I was reminded of how fucking flakey he was when it came to making plans and canceling last minute. In all I'd say he's still a great guy and I'm happy to call him a friend, but he's just a reminder of my poor decision making in dealing with men in general. Let's be honest, if he texted me tomorrow I'd probably respond with "send me an ass pic" which always makes for great boyfriend material. :-)

relationships
Daniellynnevans@gmail.com
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