Bear Magnet
Chicago was lovely, Jacksonville was sunny, and Long Island was... Well Long Island was fucking bleak and rainy. And yet in each place I happily performed the work I was sent there to do... Doing the bidding of the Big Red Elf, all praise his holy name, all bow before his majestic and rotund stature. We beseech thee, oh Jolly Saint Nick, Guide us in times of worry, shelter us in days of woe beneath thy luxurious white beard and bestow upon us great mountains of loot, which we do not deserve and for which we will utterly fail to send out thank-you notes...
Oop. Sorry. I was zoning there for a second. Still shaking off the elf-conditioning.
I still have some Santa-work yet to come, but my next trip isn't until almost Halloween, and so I find myself home and finally springing blog-ward once again.
Because I need to tell you that I sometimes get hit on.
And I also need to tell you that every time this happens, the person doing the hitting-on is invariably a big burly gay guy.
Everyone has a demographic out there somewhere that they appeal to. It doesn't matter how unattractive you think you are, there is someone out there in the world that will look at you and mutter under their breath, "hubba hubba." Got a huge nose? There's a man out there who wants to lick it. Got a wooden leg? There's a girl out there somewhere with a prosthetics fetish. Been mauled by a pack of ravenous hyenas? There's a - well... how mauled are we talking here? I mean, a couple of sexy scars, or a face like a mashed banana floating in a puddle of marinara sauce?
My point is that every single person (except possibly the hyena-mauled) has some group that they appeal to. The trick is having that group turn out to be someone that you, in turn, are attracted to. My problem is that my demographic is pretty much the bear community. (that's bears as in "big hairy gay men," and not bears as in "Large possum-eating animals." Although I suppose that it's entirely possible that some of the big hairy gay men might be possum-eating animals...) I think the biggest problem is that I myself, look rather like one of the previously-mentioned big hairy gay men. Big round guy? Check. Bald head? Check. Full beard? Yep. Friendly eyes like soft pools you could fall into? You bet. "Right Said Fred" T-shirt? Well, no... can we go back to talking about my eyes?
I once got hit on by a teller at a Barnes and Noble who chatted me up a bit and then very casually lifted his sleeve up so that I could see his bear claw tatoo and gave me a knowing wink.
Once I was at a local eatery that is a very gay-friendly place and a table full of big leather bears all simultaneously scoped me out and then raised their glasses to me.
And once, I had a man run up to me on the street, shout "You're sexy!" and then run off.
That last one may not have been a pick-up, because I'm pretty sure I'm not sexy, and even so, running away is a terrible way to meet someone you like.
A few things to clarify:
1) I'm not trying to say I get hit on all the time, because I certainly do not. I am not what you would probably consider a good-looking guy. I'm just saying that when it does happen, it is always a big dude doing it.
2) I have no problem being hit on by gay men. I love gay men, and I'll take a compliment from whoever wants to throw me one. Thank you, Barnes and Noble teller, for making my day. Gracias, table full of leather-guys, for making me feel good. And for the man who yelled "you're sexy" at me? Well... that was creepy. Seriously, knock that shit off.
It's just odd to realize that you are someone whose demographic skews way off in a direction you never expected, or particularly wanted. The ironic bit is that Paul, who loves the big hairy gay men, is attractive primarily to small cute women. He and I need to hit the clubs one night. I'll snag Grizzly Adams, he'll get Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and then a fistful of roofies, and we'll trade. Sounds like a plan.
Of course, the sappy heart of this story is that I did find one magical girl who seems to think I'm the bee's knees (or the bee's lower mandible joints, or something). And honestly, that's all I need. One Sally is better than an army of naked gay lumberjacks.
Christ what a picture though. Okay, the tiny part of me that is gay is a little turned on by the army of naked lumberjacks. I need to go wake up Sal now and have some "boobie time."
Oop. Sorry. I was zoning there for a second. Still shaking off the elf-conditioning.
I still have some Santa-work yet to come, but my next trip isn't until almost Halloween, and so I find myself home and finally springing blog-ward once again.
Because I need to tell you that I sometimes get hit on.
And I also need to tell you that every time this happens, the person doing the hitting-on is invariably a big burly gay guy.
Everyone has a demographic out there somewhere that they appeal to. It doesn't matter how unattractive you think you are, there is someone out there in the world that will look at you and mutter under their breath, "hubba hubba." Got a huge nose? There's a man out there who wants to lick it. Got a wooden leg? There's a girl out there somewhere with a prosthetics fetish. Been mauled by a pack of ravenous hyenas? There's a - well... how mauled are we talking here? I mean, a couple of sexy scars, or a face like a mashed banana floating in a puddle of marinara sauce?
My point is that every single person (except possibly the hyena-mauled) has some group that they appeal to. The trick is having that group turn out to be someone that you, in turn, are attracted to. My problem is that my demographic is pretty much the bear community. (that's bears as in "big hairy gay men," and not bears as in "Large possum-eating animals." Although I suppose that it's entirely possible that some of the big hairy gay men might be possum-eating animals...) I think the biggest problem is that I myself, look rather like one of the previously-mentioned big hairy gay men. Big round guy? Check. Bald head? Check. Full beard? Yep. Friendly eyes like soft pools you could fall into? You bet. "Right Said Fred" T-shirt? Well, no... can we go back to talking about my eyes?
I once got hit on by a teller at a Barnes and Noble who chatted me up a bit and then very casually lifted his sleeve up so that I could see his bear claw tatoo and gave me a knowing wink.
Once I was at a local eatery that is a very gay-friendly place and a table full of big leather bears all simultaneously scoped me out and then raised their glasses to me.
And once, I had a man run up to me on the street, shout "You're sexy!" and then run off.
That last one may not have been a pick-up, because I'm pretty sure I'm not sexy, and even so, running away is a terrible way to meet someone you like.
A few things to clarify:
1) I'm not trying to say I get hit on all the time, because I certainly do not. I am not what you would probably consider a good-looking guy. I'm just saying that when it does happen, it is always a big dude doing it.
2) I have no problem being hit on by gay men. I love gay men, and I'll take a compliment from whoever wants to throw me one. Thank you, Barnes and Noble teller, for making my day. Gracias, table full of leather-guys, for making me feel good. And for the man who yelled "you're sexy" at me? Well... that was creepy. Seriously, knock that shit off.
It's just odd to realize that you are someone whose demographic skews way off in a direction you never expected, or particularly wanted. The ironic bit is that Paul, who loves the big hairy gay men, is attractive primarily to small cute women. He and I need to hit the clubs one night. I'll snag Grizzly Adams, he'll get Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and then a fistful of roofies, and we'll trade. Sounds like a plan.
Of course, the sappy heart of this story is that I did find one magical girl who seems to think I'm the bee's knees (or the bee's lower mandible joints, or something). And honestly, that's all I need. One Sally is better than an army of naked gay lumberjacks.
Christ what a picture though. Okay, the tiny part of me that is gay is a little turned on by the army of naked lumberjacks. I need to go wake up Sal now and have some "boobie time."
posted by CommonWombat at 12:57 AM
18 Comments:
You are so romantic...
Fool
thank goodness you're back.
and you brought an army of naked lumberjacks?
sounds good to me.
So, I tune into another thrilling episode of Two Men a Pizza Place and the CommonWombat and find myself guest starring again. I'm going to have to start charging this guy. Yes, it's true. I have a weak spot for the bears. And it is cruel irony that Baker attracts them (I haven't told him yet that's the only reason I hang out with him...well, that and the free rides). It seems we all have some demographic that finds us irrisistable. I found out quite by accident on my own Christmas adventure in Texas that I happen to attract Latinas. Not just attract, but actually ellicit catcalling from them. It was scary. This comment is so long I should start my own damn blog.
Please save this line " One Sally is better than an army of naked gay lumberjacks" for this year's valentine. Okay?
I hope I get one that good.
When Paul says he gets "free rides" from me, he means CAR rides. Heh heh heh... Um. Not in a gay way.
I charge him for the "other" kind of rides.
I've been trying to talk ACWF into getting mauled by hyenas, but we just don't have the money to keep her alive after the mauling.
Your description of a bruised banana in marina did turn me on a little though.
I once had a t-shirt that said "I'm Somebody's Fetish."
I also find myself in a very similar situation.
that was a good post again wombat. your post reminded me of a story. my father and my brother in law and i went out for a movie and a couple of beers. when we got to the bar we sat at the bar and ordered our drinks. there was a guy at the end of the bar that kept eyeing my father. my brother in law and i was laughing and my father said, what is wrong with you two. we said, that guy at the end of the bar is looking at you. my father did not know what we meant so we had to explain it to him. he thought we was kidding. we said well just look at the guy. so my father turned and looked at the guy and the guy gave him a big smile. that was one night i will never forget.
It's good to see that travelling has not diminshed your humor one bit.
Now, am I just gay illeterate? (very possible) ...the bear claw tatoo... is this a gay symbol I am unaware of?
And, if I'm unaware.... wombat, I have to ask how it is that you are SO intuned with the gay community? :)
Oh, and "boobie time" is CRACKING me up!
When we get together for dinner later this month, I'm going to bring several of my big, hairy gay friends, and before we meet up, I'm going to tell them you're single and ready for a party. Oh, and that you get off on acting like you're NOT gay, kind of like you want to act all coy, but that it turns you on to be pursued in spite of your fake protestations. As in "No means Yes!"
And don't worry about Sally. It's not cheating if you're tied up against your will.
Karla, you just turned me on a little bit. :)
okay, A LOT
LMAO, I love that you're back and posting. I have to say I'm so amused about being a gay magnent. hehehe
"boobie time" & an army of naked lumberjacks...hehehehe
I hope you had a great time.
you haven't noticed an unusually large, bearded Elf stalking you then?
i just thought you might like to know that i definately used the term "jiggled it" in conversation yesterday.
i had to explain it, but it went over well.
it's gonna spread like wildfire.
or crabs.
whatever.
ROFLMAO--I'm new here. Thanks for the chuckle--although I don't want you to think I am laughing at your expense... LOL
No please, laugh at my expense.
Wombat's third rule of comedy (yes I actually have rules) is: "If they're laughing AT you, they're still laughing."
What if they're laughing at your small penis?
Okay, who told you about my penis???
Post a Comment
<< Home