"No one here believes I'm a top," I thought to myself while taking the first sip of my second overpriced beer.
By the end of the night, I had met about 16 different men, and I can tell you that the look of disappointment that flashed on their faces upon seeing me never got old.I tried my best to be my most "top" self (like trying to polish a turd, as they say).By the time I got to the handsomest man in the room, I could tell we were both exhausted.I was tired from putting on the performance of my life, and he was tired from all the normals he'd had to speak to.There was a drizzle of uneasy laughter from the men in line. To be blunt, most of the men on either side (including me) were average-looking -- sometimes aggressively so.
These men weren't the living mannequins you see gliding on the roller skates of their good looks through Chelsea.
Unfortunately, we were both the human equivalents of melted ice at the bottom of a cooler previously filled with beer, dreams and the empty promise of a good time.
Speed dating, even the kind tailored toward your preferred sexual role, is a great alternative to the more obvious option: online dating.
It's happened to me once before; I realized that if I was the smartest person in the room, then we were all screwed.
That's how I imagine this gentleman felt, except that instead of being the smartest man in the room, he was the best-looking.
(I'd like to go on record and say those men are horrible, and the human equivalent of a parfait.) The men here were normal dudes: mostly over 30, and mostly in custody of faces I almost instantly forgot.