the gay gay jew (unappropriate) wrote,
the gay gay jew

the fun of online dating

you guys, i haven't posted anything in almost two months now. for me, that is just crazy. and yes, i'm well aware that i've said as much in the last two posts now, but it doesn't seem to be changing matters anyway. i blame constantly-emerging social networking technology.


since i've been dipping my toe a little more intently into online dating (mind you not actually having dates, but at least messaging and keeping things up-do-date), i've decided to create a few rules that i adhere by. for your reading pleasure, i've put them all in one place:

i will not respond to you if*

~you wink at me. it's lazy, and if it's the equivalent of winking in real life, it's also sleazy and cheesy.
~your username involves the word "boi".
~your username involves the word "stud".
~your username involves the word "cock".
~your username involves the word "bro".
~if, at any point in correspondence to me, you address me as "bro".
~your username involves multiple x's or the number "420"
~you make drug references in your profile
~you are looking for an open relationship
~you have a spirit animal
~your username involves the word "warlock".
~your username involves the word "wizard".
~you describe yourself as "chill"
~the words "masc. dude looking for same" appear anywhere in your profile
~the term "lol" appears more than two times in your profile
~you're shirtless/in underwear in more pictures than you're fully (or at least appropriately) clothed
~you're wearing a cloak in any of your pictures
~you're weilding weaponry in any of your pictures
~you're not out to your family

*in no particular order

honestly, i don't think that a list like that makes me too picky. and yet you'd be surprised by how much it limits selections! man, online gays are shady!

in other news, cuz there's always other news (especially when i've not updated in almost two months!), i've been getting back into my writing. i really don't talk about it much because it makes me feel very talking-through-closed-teeth stanley tucci pretentious "yes darling, i'm a writer, don't you know", but it's good to be getting thoughts out again. i've been daydreaming about being published, and frequently have to reel myself in because hi, i just wrote about two and a half pages, which makes the total on my "novel" (such as it is) 13 pages, which is 13 pages over the course of a year, so it's not like i'm exactly plowing away at anything over here.

anyway, as i'm currently at a loss for a writers' salon (if you will), i may post a snippet or two on here from time to time, just to put it in a more public perspective. i'll say now, you're not required to comment on it. it might be helpful if you did, but it's absolutely not required.


Earlier that day, they’d gone for a walk. It was the tail end of summer and, in their northern town, September was already ushering in a sharp burn. Chilly in the shadows and still warm in the clear, they walked the dirt paths through the woods in silence. This was nothing new, they’d taken this walk countless times, but in those times, the quiet would be broken by gesture: pointing out squirrels, the way the sunlight fell through the trees. The quiet would be broken by mutual knowledge of the other; there was sound in the meeting of eyes, in the rising corners of mouths in subsequent smiles.

Today’s though was a different silence. Today there was no sound but two sets off footsteps in the dirt and leaves. Squirrels still ran through the branches overhead while sunlight cascaded in great shafts, but on the ground were two disjointed, solitary figures pressing forward.



Soon enough the vegetation grew thin and they emerged at the clearing. There were no trees here to block the sun, just the pond and grass and in years past they’d have stripped down to nothing and run headlong through the summer sun into the warm water. This was their secret spot, in and all the years they’d been coming here, no one else had ever been seen and they could have privacy to swim, to sit naked in the grass, to get high and talk until everything was dark, then lay back and watch the stars.

Today, Jeff had walked to the edge of the water, stopped and gazed straight ahead. Adam, several paces behind, sat on a rock at the edge of the trees. He didn’t want to be there. He knew full well why Jeff had brought him out here today, and he didn’t want to hear it.

The silence now was not the shared absence of conversation, but a wall, thick and strong, being built one stone at a time. Each minute was another layer, each cricket and bird chirp another coat of mud and mortar. The world around them hadn’t changed – in a town like this, it never did. But inside, everything was moving, shifting, and they both knew it. And they both knew that it might never shift back into place again.
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