Getting Personal

In the mid-90s I was 19, I had just come out of the closet and was taking six weeks of summer school in Ohio and there were very few people on campus. I picked up an alternative free city paper and discovered the personals section in the back. So I brought it back to my dorm and placed one because it was free. A few days later I had a message from this guy and we had a good chat. He was in his early 30s, but I didn’t mind the age difference. Since I didn’t have a car, he offered to pick me up, so I sat outside the student union and this red Toyota Celica pulled up. “Fuck,” I thought to myself as soon as I saw him. He was wearing acid washed tapered jeans, white sneakers and an open buttoned white shirt that revealed a black t-shirt. Oh and he had thick Coke bottle glasses and buckteeth.

Since I was the only person in the area and had told him what I looked like, I couldn’t get out of it. We went into town and I picked a place where no one could see us. He ordered spinach dip, but managed to get it stuck in between his teeth. He snorted while laughing and proceeded to reveal that he was divorced and still lived with his ex-wife who was actually a post-op tranny. He said he married her because she needed a visa and he “really liked trannies.” The sad thing was that he had no clue I was having such a miserable time. He insisted on stopping for an ice cream sundae at Friendly’s before dropping me back at my dorm and I didn't argue because this guy could have easily driven us into the woods and I would have disappeared. He told me he’d love to see me again, but I told him I just didn’t feel a connection. I avoided personal ads from that day on.  

You Spin Me Right Round

My Very Worst Date happened one summer at Myrtle Beach. My date took me for dinner and then we went with two of our friends, who were also on a date, to the rides at the amusement park. We decided to go on this ride that I had never been on before. I was looking nice in my all-white outfit and my date looked great. So the ride starts, spinning up and spinning down, and after a few seconds I turned to my date.

“I think we better stop this ride I think I am going to be sick,” I said.

“Just hang on you’ll be okay,” he replied.

We kept spinning and I knew I was going to lose it. And by it I mean the dinner we just had. After I hurled on the ride, my white outfit now had colorful spots and my date now matched me. Finally our yells and pleas to stop the ride worked and we got off, but we were all a mess. My girlfriend and I raced to the ladies room to try to clean up and the guys did the same. But when we came out and they were gone. We never saw either of those two guys again and I can’t say I blame them. The moral of the story? Do not mix food with an amusement park ride and white outfits on a first date. 

Marriage à la Mode

After yesterday's fashion dating hilarity, we sobered up a bit when we read about how dress preferences can kill a relationship in Mariella Frostrup's agony aunt column in The Observer. Mariella, a reformed party girl, Friend of George Clooney and serious literary journalist, is our kind of agony aunt. Her stunning resume and late-but-extremely-happy coupled up status are some of the reasons we heart her. Then, there's her wisdom and attempts at empathy. Here's what she said to the cross-dressing husband who's losing his wife because of his wardrobe choices:

The closest I've come to understanding the urge was when I found myself attracted to Eddie Izzard despite the fact that he was wearing rather nasty nail varnish and a skirt shorter than mine. It taught me that you can never predict or dictate what's going to turn you on. Reverse discrimination is rife in what we wear. Women sport ridiculous concoctions, call them fashion and are admired by their contemporaries. Men are barely tolerated out of trousers. 

The rest of her terribly sane and sensible advice is here. 

Master of the Wardrobe

On a third date with a very cute and interesting guy, I wanted to get beyond the surface, so I asked him to tell me some about himself. "I do like to wear women's clothing sometimes," he replied. My response: Huh?? "Well," he said, "You are wearing men's jeans so it's not that different." I was wearing Levi's. We kept talking and before I knew it he was explaining his favorite fabrics. Blouses and skirts were his preferred dress style apparently. By the end of the date, I was driving him around, and pointing out my best-loved boutiques and discussing make-up as if I had found a new shopping buddy. I must have been shell-shocked at the revelation, but the next day I decided not to see him again. It was a decision he found perplexing.