Bachelor #17: Sent by God
Bachelor #17, my Philly psychologist in town to pitch the woo, dropped the bomb on me at dinner. “I’m a Catholic priest.” It really didn’t matter to me, except for everything his religion stands for. “Oh, I thought you were going to tell me you were a child-molester,” I quipped, “–or did you?” I had been amused by and attracted to him up to that point, but his priestness was a big hurdle. Not because I wouldn’t be thrilled doing this forbidden thing that was just between me, him, and his god, but because, well, I don’t know. He suddenly looked like a priest, with that cute warm welcoming Irish smile and ruddy face. Barry Fitzgerald or Pat O’Brien. I mean, his boss says not to have sex. I immediately wanted to know how he addressed the inherent conflicts of interest, what he really believed… but I behaved and asked only mildly challenging questions. He’s a very sweet man, and talked in a very engaging and open way. He’s someone who keeps sex and intimacy in different boxes in his closet, but seems very eager to experience, or at least imagine, dumping the two out on the floor and seeing what happens when they co-mingle. I kissed him goodnight and could tell he was all excited. Well, because he told me so, but even though he aroused my interest, my inner Catholic erected a holy glowing barrier between us that whisked me up to my flat and into the sanctuary of my Coco nest.
I’ll be seeing him again on Saturday.
Update: Well, he bailed on Saturday, feigning a head cold. He called a few days later and confessed. He said that in our brief time together he developed feelings that scared him. Intimacy, it seems, is indeed something that’s going to have to stay in his closet–it’s what he wants the most and what scares him the most. He’s so easy to read, as if his psychology studies had prepared him to be a sort of textbook example of Fear of Intimacy. Bye bye Father.
My Date with the Ferengi
We met on CraigsList. I had placed a very detailed ad in the section where guys are looking for specific sorts of activity “now!” I asked for a sort of life partner “now!” I started a nice conversation with this guy who sent me a picture that looked like it was a reflection in a mirror. His faced seemed distorted by what I thought was a ripple in the glass or something, but I mentally photoshopped out the flaws in the glass and thought he was kind of cute. When I asked for a clearer picture, he claimed that it was the clearest. Maybe just a bad photographer I thought. Well, it turned out that he wasn’t a bad photographer. It wasn’t a flaw at all, the guy was a Klingon/Ferengi hybrid. I audibly gasped when he opened the door to let me into his dingy dark filthy apartment that smelled of pee and Aqua Velva and looked just like the inside of a photon-torpedoed D5 Klingon battlecruiser. I just can’t bring myself to tell you of the comic adventures that ensued in that strange new world, nor how I escaped–certainly a place where I’d never gone before.