Dating Story #6 a/k/a...

The Push/Pull Hug

Up. Down. Left. Right. Over. Under. Good. Bad.

Opposites. According to the dictionary, the definition of opposite is: contrary or radically different in some respect common to both, as in nature, qualities, direction, result, or significance; opposed: opposite sides in a controversy; opposite directions.

Try and imagine two opposite things going on in your mind at the same time. For example, feeling compelled to walk in two different directions simultaneously, like Steve Martin in the movie "All of Me". Your arms and legs would be flailing, you’d be confused and unsure of what direction you were supposed to go while trying your best to appear you had at least some idea of what you were doing. Sarah Palin sitting down for an interview comes to mind, if you need a visual.

Or, think about wanting to both eat and yet not eat, much like a bulimic supermodel sitting at a table eating and then running off to the bathroom to purge. Back and forth, eat, purge, eat, purge. Even if the end result is that you can fit into that bathing suit you last wore when you were 18, I would think it’s all rather exhausting.

OK, now that you have bulimics and Sarah Palin in your head, let’s get to the dating story.

I met H on the 4th floor of the Center. I had just left another unsuccessful speed dating event and literally bumped into him. He was in his early to mid 40’s and cute. Very cute. "Hello" he said awkwardly and I answered, just as awkwardly, "Hello." We chatted as we walked downstairs and continued chatting outside, where H asked if I’d like to have dinner with him sometime. "Sure" I answered. "I’d love to." Unfortunately, no sooner had I answered yes, when H responded with red flag #1. "I wasn’t sure if you were interested." H said. "I really don’t understand this gay stuff."

Note to gay newbies: "I don’t understand this gay stuff" is not something you want to hear from a potential date. It’s akin to being asked over for dinner by a cannibal or having a blind man offer to drive you somewhere. H, as I would learn over a handful of dates as more red flags leapt from his mouth, was the ultimate in opposites: a homophobic homosexual. Yet, ignoring the alarm bells in my head and the quizzical looks from friends, I would end up saying yes to 4 nights out with H.

Apparently, H was working very hard to become more comfortable with his sexuality, but still disapproved of his own life. Being with him was like watching a young child first misbehave and then punish himself by sitting in the corner. If I tried to hold his hand, he’d move a good three feet away. Asking for a kiss was out of the question. I’m sure he would have preferred to have his lips surgically removed before he’d allow them to touch mine.

Ironically, H’s one attempt at a display of affection was what caused me to tell him I wasn’t interested in pursuing anything further. At the end of our last evening, H reached out to give me a hug. "See," he said, "I’m getting better at this." Better, in this case, was a relative term. H’s hug was like no other. He had one hand on my shoulder, lightly pulling me toward him. Meanwhile, his other hand, on my waist, was firmly pushing me away so that no parts of our bodies could actually touch. There are studio apartments with far less space than what we had between us during that embrace.

I didn’t see H again after that awkward hug. H struggled with being gay, even though he had already reached middle age while I often feel I popped out of the womb waving a rainbow flag. And while opposites may indeed attract, sometimes they’re better off simply going in different directions.