A little less metro.
I think I need to spend the day watching football and drinking Bud Light.
My brother in law probably just jumped out of his chair, Bud Light in hand, cheering support, but he probably shouldn't break out the membership card and gilded remote control just yet. I'm not quite ready for born again masculinity.
I just fear I'm crossing into some dangerous territory with my metrosexuality. On Friday, my good and incredibly sexy friend Sharon, a personal trainer in Long Beach, called me and invited me to go shopping with her to help her pick out a new wardrobe of work-out clothing. I spent nearly three hours (yes, THREE HOURS) parked on a bench in Nike Town, as a personal fashion consultant, analyzing the break in the cuffs of glamorized sweat pants and discussing the best ways to accessorize a tank top. On the upside, I did get to spend three hours watching a woman with precisely the kind of body you would expect on a personal trainer (or a centerfold model) parade around in various shades of Spandex.
Then last night, my friend Malisa called me from Santa Monica. "The kids are with their dad, the boyfriend has been out of the country for two weeks, HELP! GET ME OUT OF THE HOUSE!" After a dozen phone calls to rally the troops, I was supposed to go out in Santa Monica last night with five women. This may make me seem like a stud on paper (pixels?), but in reality, the lone guy in a group of girls doesn't make me a stud. It makes me the token homosexual.
My friend Christine said we could remedy this by having all the women make out with me, and as I have already made out with at least two of them in the past, this didn't seem too improbable. Of course, as luck would have it, three cancelled, and Christine had to go to bed early, so the possibility of a good, old-fashoned, group mack fest vanished as quickly as our house shots at ZaZen.
Now, I'm not bitching about the prospect of getting properly liquored up with a group of single, good looking girls in LA, but I think I really need to find me some new wingmen. All my male friends in SoCal have been roped, tagged, and corralled into safety and comfort of tract housing and suburban living. I'm a dying breed.
Maybe I'm over reacting. Sure, I'm everyone's favorite fashion consultant, but I did go off-roading on Saturday - if only to get my ass to the Fontana rock quarry for an afternoon in the vertical. And I was supposed to take the VFR out for a morning ride in Ortega today.
Then again, as my proposed riding partner is openly gay, I'm not sure this is helping my case.
Comments
mmmm...gay boys on crotch rockets riding down the coast...i see a porno in the making. :P
Posted by: tassy | November 21, 2004 11:06 AM
i like my biker porno fantasy better, but as you outright refused to ever get on a motorcycle with me, i never got to live that out.
i'll never forgive you for that you pink haired freak.
Posted by: the mighty jimbo | November 21, 2004 11:14 AM
Nothing's more sweaty macho than rock climbing. So don't worry about the fashion consultations, my man. You could probably walk around in a pink tu-tu and it would barely balance out the manly, hand-cracked, rock-climbing-ness.
Posted by: Anna | November 21, 2004 11:54 AM
That's it. I've had just about enough of your bi-curiosity, Jimbo. 5 days in Chicago. And I insist on witnessing you pursue, persuade, and presumably close the deal on some unsespecting trade show attendee... If not, I am setting you and Trey up on a date over X-Mas... Now stop being the friend and start being the problem.
Posted by: SEAN | November 21, 2004 07:50 PM
come on, it's not like we were gonna hold hands on this ride or anything! we might have even seen a movie afterwards- but we'd have to keep one open seat between us, in case anyone suspects anything "fancy" between us.
=)
Posted by: openly gay riding partner | November 21, 2004 10:21 PM
God, you make me laugh. I have a guy I dated once upon a time that is on the extreme end of meterosexual as well. Everyone that meets him thinks he is gay and I am thinking I hope not since I have seen him naked.
Just from reading your blog I can tell you why people assume you are gay and it isn't as much about the fact that you know how to dress well. But that is another discussion for another day.
If you wanted things to change you would make them happen.
Posted by: goodsnake | November 22, 2004 07:36 AM
Perhaps the only area in which our lives are parallel, Jim. I'm totally one of the girls. Most of my friends are women. I'll be out with my wife and friends, and I'll either be the only guy or the ratio will be 3-1 women. It got to the point where we started referring the group as my harem.
And I offer fashion advice to women, particularly my wife, all the time. I'm the best straight Gay Friend these girls will ever have.
However, I'm also a sports nut who spent this past weekend attending a college football game and a college basketball game, as well as watching parts of a couple of games on TV.
Advice: have a tent pitched in both camps. Good to be balanced.
ps - Bud Light is for shit. You want a domestic beer? Sierra Nevada. I'm sure you need little convincing tho...
Posted by: AVERAGE JOE | November 22, 2004 07:46 AM
Hmm...straight female who hangs out with gay males: Fag Hag. Straight male who hangs out with gay males: Fruit Fly. Straight male who is every straight female's best shopping buddy: ??? We'll just call that Frustrated.
Posted by: jimbo | November 22, 2004 08:22 AM
jimbo, straight or gay, i would totally hang out with you. you rule.
Posted by: the mighty jimbo | November 22, 2004 08:29 AM
I thought about calling you last night to see if you had the motivation to go dance. But then I got computer-tranced, myself.
But lets plan for that soon, if you're down for the drive.
Posted by: halcyon | November 28, 2004 05:09 PM
it's on. just give me a place to crash and it's on.
Posted by: the mighty jimbo | November 28, 2004 07:50 PM