(from l. to r., Michael James Schneider, Ned)
 

I’m the single guy who actually, secretly loves Valentine’s Day. Like, to say “I heart it” is an understatement. Who wouldn’t? Spring is just around the corner, couples are walking around hand in hand, and then there’s me. Struggling with my groceries after another day at work, going to my apartment in NE Portland, open the door…and there’s my cat, Ned, mad that I haven’t fed him yet. He’s all the man I need. Probably all the man I can handle. And you know what they say: the first cat is always the gateway cat. Continue reading →

from l to r, James Schneider, friend

 

Fourth in a series. Here’s Part 1, about how I’m using a hookup app to find husband material, here’s Part 2, where I learn a life lesson from my worst date ever, and here is Part 3, where I try to break my bad dating habit a lot of people have. 

Also, here’s the Date With Myself, and Happy Valentine’s Cray.

“The one amazing thing about being single for so long…” he typed, then paused, hands poised over the keyboard. Mike stayed this way for several hours, then muttered “Ah, fuck it”, shut the computer off, and went out to go to a dive bar. “Jesus, take the wheel” he muttered into the first of eighteen whiskeys.

Ok, slight exaggeration: I’m trying not to be as profane lately, so I just said “Ah, darn it.” I think this past year and a half of being single, the longest time in my life I’ve ever been single (NOT THAT I AM COUNTING OR ANYTHING), has made me more insecure and full of self-loathing self-aware and introspective than ever before. With that has come some pretty great epiphanies about what makes me tick, and has helped me step back and break (or indulge in) patterns in the guys I date.

One pattern I realized made me aware of the phenomena that’s becoming common in the dating world, that of dating someone much older or much younger. I’m starting to chalk this up to learned behavior and formative influences, patterned on a male figure that’s important to everyone, everywhere. It’s not our first boyfriends, or our bestie in middle school. It’s the first man we ever loved: it’s our fathers. Continue reading →

“Love Is A Battlefield” -photo by Summer Olsson (with all due respect to the brave people who have *actually* served)

 

Third in a series. Click here for Part 1, about how I’m using a hookup app to find husband material (and read about my sordid dating history), click here for Part 2, where I learn a life lesson from my worst date ever. Here’s Part 4, where I put forth that age is just number, until it isn’t.

It’s about damn time us single people gave ourselves some credit. I mean, we’re out there on the front lines of this battlefield, right? We’re the ones dating people with questionable hygiene, shaking off every unreturned text, and grimacing through every wedding invitation. No, I’m not going to pretend it’s some noble higher calling, this singledom. It’s not that big a deal in the scheme of things. It’s not Syria. If you’re reading this, you probably have it pretty good. We should all practice being a bit more grateful for what we’ve got. Haha, just kidding, the barista got my americano wrong this morning so I shouted “Steam this, you pissy bitch!” and threw my hot coffee in his pretty mustachioed face. And what does “banned for life” really mean anyway?

For a while my theory was that I had a weird form of invisible leprosy that only other single guys could see. I have quirks and idiosyncrasies, just like everyone else. I’m afraid to hear my own heartbeat. Every time I hear the phrase “underwear bomb” on NPR I giggle. And I sometimes (often) pretend I didn’t hear what you were saying, just so I can buy myself time to come up with a more thoughtful or funny response. Recently, though, I looked even deeper to see what really makes me tick, what really gets me going when I’m attracted to someone, and maybe why things don’t work out in the end. I don’t know what I expected to find, but it wasn’t the dark, foul-tasting thing I eventually uncovered. And then every friend who is single, gay or straight, who I told about it nodded and grimaced: they felt the same way. Bear with me while I set the table for you: Continue reading →

No, my worst date did not involve a Furry (from l to r: Michael James Schneider, Josh Oppenheim)

 

Second in a series. Here’s Part 1, about being old-fashioned in a modern world. And then click here for Part 3, about how bad dating habits lead to same result date after date. Oh yeah, here’s Part 4, where I talk about age differences in dating.

Is anyone out there really “great” at dating? I’m asking for a friend, of course. Once I get in a relationship I’m golden, but it seems like such a long damn road to get there. First of all, for a while recently, I had this weird occasional anxiety that was a big turnoff to normal human beings. I tended to come off a little strong in the beginning, until I was sure there was a connection. This still flares up occasionally. My favorite icebreaker I use on dating sites isn’t “Hey, I’m Mike, how are you?”, it’s usually “MAKE ME A SANDWICH”. This works less well than you might think.

In the last post I talked about how I’m an old-fashioned weirdo and I feel out-of-place whenever I get out of a relationship, since I tend to date for long periods of time. The reaction to me admitting that I’m using the wrongly-maligned Scruff app to find husband material provoked stronger reactions than that time I stole someone’s MRIs of their brain to make art with. My favorite reaction from that Scruff admission was from my buddy Chase: “Enjoy the chlamydia!” But seriously, I don’t get the “woofs” (for the uninitiated, this is what you do on Scruff to indicate you like someone, like a Facebook “poke”)…just send me a message instead, guys. I know I should be flattered, but stop it. Somebody feed that goddamn dog some chocolate. Continue reading →

“Morning Surprise” -photo by Julie Dunagan

It’s no secret that being single in Los Angeles or Portland, well, being single anywhere, can be a drag. Cities can discourage “mental proximity”, which is what I call it when you connect with someone on a fun, emotional, reciprocal level. I’ve been single for a year and a half now, and I think it might be one of the longest times in my life I haven’t been in a relationship (my friend Julie has a theory: I’m basically unlovable. She might be on to something!). I think I’m supposed to say that I’m having a blast, insist that I’m just fine being single, and that I’m at my best without someone…there are people like that. But I’m not. It’s not fun. I’m awesome-er with someone. And I’ve come to the realization that it’s because I’m starting to feel like a time-traveler. I tend to date guys for long periods of time, so every time I emerge from a relationship, I need an anthropological Field Guide to the gay men of that era. Continue reading →