His Door Doesn't Swing My Way

…I don’t remember.

After hours of emails and instant messaging and three decent phone calls I agree to my first online date. We meet at a coffee shop down the street from my house. He’s cuter than his picture. He opens doors for me and pays for my chocolate brownie frappuccino. We sit and talk for hours. My side hurts I’m laughing so hard. I notice how he sits with his legs crossed like a lady while I have them spread like a trucker. I eye the labels on his clothes and the fact that there is not a wrinkle anywhere on them. His shoes are fresh off the designer shelf and match his belt. He talks about poetry and this great decorator he found to redo his condo…And he has no idea that he’s gay.

“Of course you picked a gay guy.” Vagina Jane says, laughing. “It was safe.” How was I supposed to know he was gay prior to the date if he himself doesn’t know he’s gay? She assures me I had an inkling and did it so I could say I went on a date. It was a safe bet for me. I wouldn’t have to worry about actually liking him. Although I tell her the idea is completely ludicrous, sometimes I hate her for knowing me well.