Dating Power

Immediately I see the potential downfalls of chronicaling the events of a first date in a blog entry. And I see why this may stop some people from doing just that. And I would chose not to write it based on those facts if the date which I had last night went even remotely bad.

Now, I am not experiencing one of those Oh-my-god-I've-found-him-Stop-the-search type of dates, but I think I might genuinely want to see this dude again. Not out of a genereal interest in having a dude to date, but out of a gerneral interest in this dude.

If you were to take a look at my last post, you could probably gather that yesterday was a far cry from the best Tuesday that I have ever had. Following work I was tired, worn down, and depressed about having to shell out $60 worth of parking fines. Prior to this day - actually very prior - a friend had been promoting me in another circle of friends and had actually offered to set me up with this guy in her studio/design class. So since about February, she has been trying to set me up. Finally, following some recent information regarding the high success rates of set-ups (as in "I know this really great guy...mind if i give him your number/tell him about you?"), I decide that I will call and see if Jeff wants to go get a bite to eat. He says yes (which was probably obvious by the title of this entry).

I won't go into all of the gross details of the conversation; I will instead go into all of the gross details of my thought process during the 90 minute date. Beginning with a thought I had regarding the proper length of time to spend on a first date. I think that you can decide if a prospect has potential within the first twenty minutes, but the length of time to determine what that potential is up for debate. For example...in our initial phone contact, I observed that Jeff is very chatty. This has been something that I, myself have been accused of so I decide to give him the floor and listen to his day: he is a florist and art student. Based on this twenty minute interaction, I decide that there is some potential here...at least he is not afraid to be candid - and he has a nice voice. Set up the face-to-face.

Upon arriving at a predetermined restaurant, I spot a cute guy that looks to be not a day over 19. I am told by the host that this is Jeff. For those who know me only as a blogger - you should be let in on the secret that I like young looking guys. (I'm 25.) So as we procede with the date, and I decide that the potential that I heard on the phone trandslates very well into reality. He met some key objectives of my dating criteria: a) laughs at my jokes, 2) has never jumped out of a moving plane and has no future plans to do so, and c) eye contact! eye contact! eye contact! [complete list of dating criteria to be in a future entry]

So the date goes something like this (inner dialog):
"hmmm...i wonder what he would look like if with a buzz cut...Oh yeah! he'd look GOOD. I'm gonna have to save that idea for the third or fourth date. I'm not sure about that earring...very gay, but also very seventies - I can deal with it. It may serve as a source for gift ideas later in life. Now...I guess that I am eventually gonna have to learn to love that western New York accent; I am not moving anytime soon, and I refuse to be single past Valentine's day 2005. And I guess this must also be said about my desire to date a gay guy that doesn't act anything but straight - it ain't gonna happen, brian. Get over the fantasy."

While the inner dialog is going on the outer dialog revolves around family, high school, and taste in music. BORING (but nessecary).

(inner dialog): "NICE HANDS!!! Oh my...I can't wait for him to give me a massage...BRIAN! You are getting way too far ahead. Don't do this to yourself."

And this is when I knew that I would try to set up a second date. After we parted ways, we did what any gay man would do...we got on our respective celphones and reported back to the swetter-upper. "Keri...thanks for the introducing us. I had a great time. Call me as soon as you know what he thought."

So we have plans to get together on Friday. I'm hoping we continue to be as comfortable around each other as we were last night. Plus I am dying to see if I was right about the way he would look after i take the clippers to his head BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ....

Have a great thanksgiving!

Parking tickets.

Let me start by saying that I fully deserve the $100 fine that I recently received for occupying a Handicap parking meter earlier in the month. Albeit a bit steep for such an arguably victimless crime . . . especially at 11pm on a Sunday in deserted downtown Buffalo (a noteworthy way to increase patronage in an already depressed area of town). But that is another conversation all together.

Now...the parking tickets that I am vehemently opposed to (and woefully prone to getting on a daily basis) are the alternate side parking violations. These have for a very long time been the bane of my existence. As a point of reference, the amount that I have paid in parking violations since moving to buffalo in 1997 is equivalent to the pricetag on paving a lot. Which, come to think of it, is exactly what the are likely to do with the revenues. "Lot PlantA: brought to you by Brian's inability to park on the correct side of the street at the arbitrary times posted." I have my own fucking line on the city budget!

I mean who the hell are theses barbarians that do the parking patrol!? And why do I never see them? If I never see them, how the hell do they keep catching me!? But I'm getting ahead of myself . . .

Well documented is the fact that it snows in Buffalo. As a matter of fact, there isn't much else it does do in Buffalo from about October 1 until March 15. For these six long, long, cold, bitter, white months I wholeheartedly see the need to enforce alternate side parking in order that snow can be pushed around and into driveways for the residents to take care of (known in city planning as "snow removal"). Nothing is more inviting to Mr. Plow than a block where all of the cars are parked on the same side of the street. This allows him to speed at 70MPH down the block, ineffectively "plow" and earn his 40 hours of overtime in a doughnut shop rather that sufficiently clearing all streets and providing a safe route for all of the taxpayers footing his inflated salary. But...like I stated earlier...I understand the need for this, and would have it no other way. Plow away...I LOVE shovelling out my drive way, car, or house pet.

What I cannot, will not, and do not support is the terrible sense to keep the alternate parking in effect through the summer months. I see this as nothing more than a evil plow to collect money through fines in order to pay the nasty plow drivers that cause us such grief all winter long. Now, many argue that alternate parking allow the illusive "street sweeper" to clean up the debris left on the roadside. To these folks I pose one question: When is the last time you have seen a street sweeper outside of a Disney movie? Give me a break! I would take a bit of dust and dirt over a $30 parking ticket any day of the week! WE ARE TALKING ABOUT THE FUCKING GROUND HERE!

And I would not bat an eyelash to find out that the same MFs that "plow" in the winter are the same BJs that drive around those parking enforcement vehicles in the finer weather. And if that is not the case, I'd like to know whose bright idea it was to create jobs this way: "My name is John...I am the Parking Enforcer!" Didn't they used to call these meter maids before some fag decided that he wanted to write tickets for a living without having to go through all of that police training, and then subsequently got his panties all in a knot about being called/associated with a "profession" referred to as a maid?

And what are the rules of this game?! It's a big nasty guessing game as to which side of the street to park on. After becoming comfortable and complacent about the alternate parking "rules" in my old neighborhood, I moved this October to find that even though I remained in the same city, the parking rules are much, much different and increasingly more arbitrary on the more bourgeoisie section of town. In stead of the former Mon.-Tues., Weds-Fri., anywhere on the weekends (because Mr. Plow and meter maids need the weekends off), I now have to deal with a 6pm Monday-6pm Wednesday pattern. This seems that it may be easier, but I return home from work at around 3pm daily. Three days a week I can comfortably park and climb the 32 stairs to my 3rd floor apartment without worry that I will have to make the trek again in three hours. But on Mondays and Wednesday, if that 32 stair hike and it's preceding work-day have sufficiently tired me enough to cause a nap on the couch, missing that 6pm cutoff results in a $30 ticket. THIRTY DAMN DOLLARS! You would think that they would at least give me the reach-around after fucking me in the ass so hard!

Anyway...like a good citizen I pay my fines out of fear both and the hope that I will one day see a real live meter maid!