September and everything after

*sigh* Men.

My sleep schedule is once again all off. Went to bed at 2am tossed and turned most of the night and am now up wide awake at 7:30am bright eyed and bushy tailed. What might men have to do with this?

Perhaps it's because I am trying to date again. Lord knows why. As if there isn't enough instability and upset in my life at the moment. But then this is my nature; to pour gasoline on a fire. Rather then use some medium to extinguish the blaze, I'm busy feeding the conflagration.

I don't know why I do these things to myself.

I am clearly not ready to date again. I am still not happy with the way I look. No I'm not body dysmorphic or one of those gay body nazis who counts every bicep rep and calorie.

I just am not satisfied with my appearance. It took years to baloon up to the size I was and in 7 months I've dropped a lot of weight. Of course I want it all now, the waist, the chest, the arms and the man. True to my Aries nature, I'm not big on patience.

I'm still unemployed. The longest stretch of unemployment for me since my senior year of high school. Then I wanted to enjoy my last year and all the events that go with it.

Now, I just can't find anything. I got my Master's degree thinking it would help me find a job. Instead it's been a hinderance. I'm beginning to hate the word "overqualified".

Which brings me full circle back to the dilemma of men.

As I've been out rekindling my passion for various things I loved to do before "the relationship" ended those pursuits, I keep encountering guys I find attractive. Yet, due to the above mentioned drawbacks, said men are wholly unatainable at the moment. I mean who wants to date a overweight, unemployed, loser right?

Granted, despite my present outward appearance and employment status I do have a couple of things going for me. I have a masculine demeanor, which in the gay world is akin to catnip. Everyone wants the straight acting and looking guy. I'm a beer drinkin', muscle car drivin', sports watchin', country music listenin' fag. There ain't too many fellas like me around and consequently I'm attractive because of my rarity.

I also look good in a cowboy hat, but I digress.

So there have been more than a couple of men as of late who have expressed a spark of interest. Take for example this latest foray. I met this gentleman last Saturday. Here's a man with two professional degrees, a former armed forces officer, avid boxer, swimmer. Loves professional baseball, sailing and is "ohmygod" beautiful. Blue eyes, shaved head, killer smile and body.

This man approached me.

Me.

So we dance a great deal on Saturday evening. He confessing a desire to become a better follow after years of being a lead, me willing to oblige. As I lead him on the floor our manner is easy, smooth. Sometimes you just get lucky and you find you have good dance chemistry with a new partner. This was one of those times.

We have an absolute blast, and to my utter surprise and shock, he gives me his card. He asks me to call him, as he'd like to get to know me better. Then he gives me a kiss goodnight.

Wow.

So I shoot him an email upon arriving home late Saturday evening letting him know I'll be in the city Sunday to dance again. I invite him to an early dinner if he has time, no pressure no worries, trying to be as casual as possible about it.

He accepts. We dine. The body language is open. Interested. Attracted even. Earlier he had stated he had a number of things to do, so he wouldn't be able to go dancing. Suddenly he announces he'd like to go.

And foolishly I allow myself to think that maybe, just maybe there could be something here.

I offer a ride, he declines. He doesn't want me to have to leave early on his account. I rebuff his refusal, telling him that I usually leave early on consecutive nights of dancing anyway. He smiles. Did I mention the smile? The "resistanceisfutile" smile?

So we go to Sundance. We dance and dance. It's wonderful and hot as blazes as usual. He removes his tee-shirt to reveal what I had only imagined; "thedamnthatmanishawt" body. Tanned, toned just the right amount of hairy. He's stunning.

Can you see it coming? Yep, I falter. Up until the "big reveal" I am confident. Cool. I couldn't care less what anyone thought about seeing me with him.

But that shirt comes off and suddenly, I'm the big fat unemployed loser again. In my mind I am the object of scorn and looks of "what on earth is HE doing with HIM?!?"

I deflate like a baloon shot through with a slung stone. Sadly, I know he sensed it and just like that, the spell was broken. We dance one last time, and as the song ends he turns to me on the dance floor looks me in the eye and leans in to kiss me.......on the cheek.

And I know.

I ask if he's ready to go, and he answers in the affirmative, the slightest hint of regret in his eyes. I drop him off in front of his place. A light peck on the lips from him followed by the coup de grace statement "you're a sweetie". Translated: "what on earth was I thinking?"

As I drive away into another San Francisco summer night that began with such promise and ended the only way it could a lyric popped into my head:

I walk along these hillsides In the summer 'neath the sunshine/
I am fettered by the moonlight falling down on me/
Change, change, change.

Irony can be cruel sometimes.