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Category: 50 Blind Dates

Blind Date #2: Little Tokyo.

It took a ridiculously long time for my next blind date to happen, but on the evening of June 21st, 2011 it finally did! I’m starting to see a correlation here, since this one was set up by a friend of an artist we represent at work, and the previous one was set by the brother of an artist we represent as well. My friends, on the other hand, have proved to be as helpful as a guide dog who’s blind and missing a leg.

I was in Stockholm staying with said artist, and we had just shaved my head and beard. I shaved because I did not want to deal with customs at the US airport stereotyping me for my facial hair. It’s dumb but if I had a krona for every time it’s happened, I’d be a Swedish millionaire. The artist and his friend kept fucking with me about the date. Like I stated, I want to know as little as possible about my suitors. All I knew was his name. Let’s call him… ‘Little Tokyo’. They kept telling me to be careful, not to stare too much when I first see him, and if I was comfortable enough to push him around in his wheel chair. I soon discovered these were all lies.

I walked to the train station we decided we’d meet at. He was running late. I waited. Then I got a text saying he was around the corner. I nervously looked left and right. All of a sudden, a tiny Asian (later I found out Japanese) man with a denim ensemble and a very sad excuse for a ‘stache waved at me. I was relieved. We said hi and walked to a bar close by. It was an upstairs terrace, and when we were going up the stairs, ‘Little Tokyo’ said hi to two Swedish girls. We grabbed a beer, which he paid for, and upon realizing there were no available seats, we ended up sitting with his friends, who I found out worked with him.

It was a bit awkward at first. I had no clue about anything about this man, and his friends being there didn’t really promote a very ‘getting to know you’ environment. However, being the social papillon I am, I quickly had the girls asking one question after the next about my life, which I used to reciprocate and try subtly to find things about this man’s life. I found out he worked in fashion as a men’s wear designer for a not too interesting Swedish brand that’s easily available in America. He was twenty-eight. He had lived in Australia where he met Sweds who enticed him to move to Stockholm. He was soon quitting his job. Overall, he was a nice guy. I am probably more attracted to kitchen knives than I was to him, but as a blind date, he was adequate.

We left the terrace after one drink because they wouldn’t serve us more. We walked downstairs to the bathroom where we said goodbye to his coworkers, and crossed the street to another bar. It was a small, kitchy dive with interesting people that could fit in any given international city I’ve been to. He knew people there as well. We sat with them, but this time we actually talked to each other. We talked about Japan, and I managed to pull out all my Japanese katanas to show off my slight, yet unusual, knowledge of Japanese culture.

As planned, I’d been texting with ‘Titi’ to cue her to come save me if need be. I obviously didn’t feel threatened, but I wouldn’t mind them around, after all, it wasn’t an intimate affair, nor did I want it to turn into one. We finished out drink and went outside to smoke. They met us there and we all walked to another bar. The bar was closed so we went to another one around the corner. I drank at twice the speed they did. The date never really fulfilled itself as a date in an sense. We left after about an hour. I said bye, he asked if I had to go sleep at ‘Mr. A.G.’s’, I said yes. Not sure if this was him asking me to come over, but not in a million years would that happen. Never say never, I know, but this time I’m pretty confident saying so.

Me and the Swedes walked to the train station.’Titi’ took the train home, we walked. We had another drink, and I finished the bottle of champagne I had purchased earlier. We talked a bit about work, I set up my alarm, we went to bed. As expected, I didn’t wake up on time. ‘Mr. A.G.’ woke me up when the cab was outside. Fortunately I was already packed. I thanked him for everything and made it to the airport fine. Off to London. I was tired and ready for one last night in a city that feels like home, and with proper company. Me and ‘The Kid’ had plans.


Blind date #1: Double-dipper.

And we’re off. Wednesday April 6th, 2011 was my first official blind date of the “process”, and in fact, ever.

It was set up by a friend of mine from work. A week prior to the date, at about 5 in the morning, I had just woken up for some reason, and I headed to the toilet, sat, and logged on to facebook. He IM’d me saying he had a date for me, and in my half sleep mental state I said: “yes! send him my way”. I went back to bed.

The next day I checked my inbox and I had a name and a number. That was basically all I knew about this guy, and all I would know until I met him. I replied asking what I was supposed to do, surely I wasn’t just going to text a complete stranger and say: “hey! you don’t know me, but wanna go on a blind date?” My friend then asked for my schedule and set the date up.

On that fateful Wednesday, I woke up, met a friend to get our nails done, walked around soho for a bit, and then headed to work. I was at the gallery obsessive-compulsively hanging some art work when I realized the time, I was running late! I rushed to the bathroom, changed into my carefully predetermined outfit (black pants, black Sperry’s, a black Neil Barrett sleeveless tee, and a grey Band of Outsiders blazer), downed a mini bottle of liquid balls (a.k.a. J & B) I had purchased earlier, opened my umbrella (to bring in the good luck), and with the blessing of my peers, headed out the door. Then I received a text from my date saying he was running a bit late. No biggie. I arrived at the spot we agreed on, a somewhat cute thai restaurant in soho with a witty name, and waited outside. Another text came. He was running even more late.

I went inside and sat at the bar. The bartender, a beautiful, model-esque (like most people who work at restaurants in trendy New York neighborhoods), black girl with a sultry accent, and an alluring personality, asked me what I wanted. I asked for her suggestion. I ended up with a tamarind martini. As I sipped on the deliciously tangy concoction, we made small talk. I was slightly nervous for my date to arrive and introduce himself in a cliche: “Hi are you my (insert my name here)?” manner. I didn’t want her to know I was on a blind date. Sure enough, he walked through the door and did as I had prophesied.

First impression: if there was a romantic comedy where two guys meet for a blind date, he would’ve been exactly what I’d expect to see in such film. A couple inches taller than me, blond hair, blue (maybe green) eyes, wearing brown shoes, dark jeans, a Ralph Lauren sweater over a polo shirt, and a puff jacket, all in “safe” colors (navy, green, brown). I’d say he was moderately handsome, yes. Read the rest of this entry »

The 50 Blind Dates Process

I’ve decided to embark on a journey of self discovery and inspirational writing. A few weeks ago, a friend of mine asked me if I’d want to go on a blind date because his friend was trying to set up her gay friend. At first I immediately thought: “no! pointless! I don’t even want to date as it is, much less a bunch of failed blind dates!”

But then I stepped back and thought: “hey! this might be a great idea!” And for some reason, at that precise moment, I randomly (or… I suppose in my case it’s not that random anymore, since my brain comes across too many random thoughts to the point where they’ve become predictable) thought about that Adam Sandler movie 50 First Dates.

Again, this is how my brain works: blind date + Adam Sandler movie + new blog + lots of potentially terrible scenarios that will definitely fuel my writing = jackpot!

And thus, the “50 Blind Dates Process” was born.

The premise is simple. I plan on going on 50 blind dates with men regardless of their age, race, profession, economical status, mental status, “gay stereotype”, penis size, preferred sexual role, health, political views, religion, ethics code, dress style, family background, long term goals, short term goals, IQ, diet, and love or hate for dogs, among other things.

After each date, of course an entry into this blog will register the experience.

I am going at this with no expectations whatsoever and open to anything and everything. I’m not looking for love, but if I find it, so be it. I’m not looking for sex, but if I’m hard and drunk enough, then maybe. I’m not looking for friends, but if one of them ends up being my best man when/if I get married, then I guess I’ll consider myself very lucky man.

Finally, I will definitely need help, so if you have any single (or not) gay friends, enemies, family members, acquaintances, neighbors, classmates, coworkers, or whatever, send em my way. I promise I’ll be nice, but honest. I will never reveal their name. At the end of the day, we’ll all have something good to read about.

Cheers, and bring on the whiskey shots (which I’ll probably be taking prior to meeting the first few eager souls).