Noddin' my head like yeah (or no?)

Back in September, I took my friend from work out to celebrate her birthday. While we were out, I pointed out to her THE. HOTTEST. GUY. I. HAVE. EVER. SEEN. IN. REAL. LIFE.

(For realz, peeps. Salt and pepper hair. Beaming blue eyes. Dimples. Hot bod. And a smile that would make even a dentist melt.)

As the nite went on, I could not stop talking about this guy. But he was soooo cute, even I -- who can carry on a 20-minute conversation with a cocktail napkin -- was too timid to strike up a convo.

Later in the nite, I came back from the bathroom to find my friend chatting with HGE (Hottest Guy Ever). As I approached, she turned to me, introduced us and mouthed to me, "You're welcome." (Even though I initially was pissed because I thought she was trying to steal him for herself.)

We hung out for the rest of the nite. As it turned out, his job is very closely tied to what my friend and I do, so we exchanged business cards. (My signature move.)

(Sidenote: on the way home, my friend and I had a 20-minute conversation about whether he was gay. Super good looking. Charming. Funny. And he danced. And was good at it.)

HGE and I emailed occasionally after that (mostly work-related). But in one of my emails, I mentioned that I was going later that nite to the place where we met.

I had forgotten about that email until I got a text later that nite from an unknown number that simply said, "How's South Side?"

At first I thought it might have been one of my psycho text stalkers from the past. But it turned out to be HGE.

I may or may not have peed a little with excitement.

So HGE and I made the move from emailing to texting. He said he was out with clients, but would rather be at South Side. Interesting. Though until he put his money where his heart-shaped mouth was, I wasn't buying it.

We hadn't emailed or texted in quite some time after that. Fast forward to this past weekend, when HGE texted to tell me that he had just landed in Chicago and that I should come meet him.

Wickywhaaat?!?! Seriously. What is up with this guy?

(Other than being incredibly gorgeous. And funny. And possibly gay.)

We exchanged a series of texts (most of which were much flirtier than any others).

And then the text that ended all texting happened.

I said something about being embarrassed that I was dancing to Miley Cyrus. To which he responded, "I like her too."

Aaaaaaand... that is when all questioning was confirmed. When HGE went from being Hottest Guy Ever to Hottest Gay Ever in my little black(berry) book.

Or do you think he's just a perverted older man? Please, please tell me he's just a pervert. Because then I at least still have a chance.

A Google giggle

I always think it's funny when bloggers post the Google search terms that refer people to their blogs. So I thought you would all appreciate this little gem I just discovered:

I slept with jocks and married a nice guy

Ummm... yeah. I mean, I am obviously no expert in either of those areas. Now I could understand if any of the following searches directed people here:

• unhealthy obsessions with Matt Lauer


• my friends think my boyfriend might be gay


• dating stories that would make for good Lifetime movies


• if one more g.d. person asks me why I'm still single I'm going to rip their eyelashes out


• are my cats ruining my love life


• I want to read the most hilarious blog ever created

Okay, maybe not that last one. But you catch my drift...

Boys, illustrated

The image below was forwarded to me from my single friend in Philly. She and I are living parallel dating lives right now. Misery loves company, right?

And there you have the reason that I still contend that gay guys would make the best boyfriends. :)

Thoughts?

"I'd love to meet a nice Italian girl, but..."

Seeing my friends Markiella yesterday reminded me of a funny story that I don't think I shared with you guys yet.

It all goes back several weeks, when I was at a party with Markiella and their families. I chatted with the mom of the XX half of Markiella for a good portion of the party, and she just couldn't understand how I am still single.

(I have a way of winning over the over 50 crowd. And eliciting the "how are you still single" question.)

Fast forward a couple of weeks, when I received a tweet (via Twitter, for those of you who may be as technologically backwards as me) from the XY half of Markiella, telling me that his mother-in-law (from the party) had a potential guy for me.

(I don't think the XY half had told his m-i-l about the finders' fee, so I assume he was acting as the go-between to maybe get his little hands on it.)

Apparently, his mother-in-law has a lot of interaction with professional guys all day as a result of her job (get your heads out of the gutter, you pigs), and she had one in particular who she had her eye on for me.

After I gave the go-ahead to attempt a fix up (hey, April Adventures, people!), his mother-in-law asked the potential suitor if he'd like to meet a nice Italian girl.

The potential suitor responded that he'd love to. Except that he's gay.

Soooo... I guess I should have been a teensy bit more specific about my prereqs for a guy. Funny. Family-oriented. Wears a watch (or in some other way showcases his responsibility). Has a job that he likes. Aaaaand... likes girls.

(I know, I know. You're remembering how I just recently professed the gay guy as my "type." But I'm fairly certain it would not work out in the real world of dating.)

On the bright side, I do know that Markiella's mom/mother-in-law definitely has the right kind of guy in mind for me. Now she just needs to make sure he likes girls too.

Found: my "type"

We had a super fun bday outing for Brissy this weekend: House party. Strip club. Gay bar. Can it get any better than that? (Oh, yes it can. Transportation? The strip club party bus. Who knew that gays liked strip clubs?!?)

(Sidenote: in case you're new here, Brissy is my family's gay quasi-adopted brother. He does every holiday, birthday and family vacation with us. Brissy = brother (because he's a boy) + sister (because he's gay). We love Brissy.)

Anyhow, during the course of the nite, I discovered my type: an honest-to-goodness gay guy. (At least, as long as he's friends with Brissy. Because those guys are aahh-maaa-zing.) For realz. Here's why:

• I wouldn't ever have to apologize for playing Britney Spears music. In fact, it would be encouraged. (It certainly was last nite.)


• I would have someone to learn all the dance routines from music videos with. (Fun!)


• There would be no shortage of one-liners to keep me entertained. Example (when discussing blogdad's attempt to grow his hair out like Richard Gere circa Pretty Woman): "More like Richard Queer!" (Actual words spoken by Brissy.)


• I wouldn't have to plan all of the fun outings/dates. Brissy's friends had that stuff taken care of last nite. From the free shuttle bus and passes for the strip club to the hailing of a cab for sissy and me when we were beat (the boys were still partying), we didn't have to worry about a thing. (Other than our crazy cab driver on the way home.)
  
• I would be guaranteed affection without the expectation of anything more. (I lost track of the number of hugs and back rubs I got last nite.)


• I'd never have to worry if he was going to potentially embarrass me by pulling out some old-school oversized rugby or other horrendous article of clothing. And even if he did wear a rugby, I'm certain it would be the right size. (And designer.)

I suppose there would be some downsides too (like, the fact that he'd likely be more romantically interested in my brothers-in-law than me). *SIGH*

But in theory, I'm sort of really liking the GBF (gay boyfriend) idea. Now if I could just find a gay straight guy...