I was on my way home from hanging out in Dallas that evening when I called up my friend, Marlon and we ventured into the Gayborhood for a drink (of course, a water for me). It was definitely a night for testing our courage. We went out to the local gay cowboy club and watched people dance on the floor: a “queen of the night” Doc Brown type, a few Joes, and a rather dashing, sinewy Latin guy who caught Marlon’s eye. I could see why! Triple rhyme not intended. He was very handsome and he could really move. Yes, he was sexy. He was a man. But was he Marlon’s man? I hastened Marlon to go talk to him. Why not! He wouldn’t budge. Sinewy Latin Guy (or SLG henceforth) left with his friend. We hopped from club to club and they all were dead — on a Sunday night! That used to not be.

After buzzing around, we landed at the older man/leather daddy club, which didn’t have much of either or anyone for that matter, except for SLG! Again, I tried to get Marlon to talk to him, but no go. Meanwhile, a really old cowboy from the gogo boy bar down the street was eye-ing me (and I was very much looking in the other direction). Guh! After the Old Cowboy realized I was not interested, he passed on; probably to another club looking for another young thing. — It was the hoodie. I swear it makes me look college-aged. Is 25 considered college-aged? [brushes thought away]

So Marlon and SLG didn’t seem to be happening. Marlon was ready to go, so I suggested we go in the direction of the SLG first. I was going to show him how to approach someone. All I did was go up to SLG and his friend, and said first to SLG that he danced really good at the cowboy bar. He and his friend were embarrassed. It was really cute. I wished them both a good night and that was that. I could have carried on the conversation, but I just wanted to show Marlon that he was just like anybody else.

I’ve been there: See a cute guy who makes you feel all gooey and warm inside (and outside, okrrr). I’ve also been really chicken about approaching a cute guy. To some extent I still am, but that’s for another blog post. Cute, beautiful, gorgeous or not, homeboy (or homegirl) is like everybody else. He poops in a toilet (hopefully), he brushes his teeth (hopefully), and he has bills to pay (unless he lives with his parents). He’s just like you. Don’t think of yourself as less. Say hi.