Hott or Not...

My friend Cayli responded with a list that she and her best friend complied shedding some light on both hott and not hott qualities in men. They are as follows:


HOTT LIST:
• smells good
• soft sweaters
• well dressed
• nice manners
• generous of spirit, not necessarily with money
• a bit of facial scruff
• pecs
• hands that are neat, not manicured
• the above applies to brows as well
• sweet kisses
• good rhythm in all areas
• listening followed by action


THE NOTT HOTT LIST:
• too eager
• not interested
• poor manners
• not getting our back when dealing with: waiters, bank tellers, dry cleaners, mechanics, etc.
• incorrect insights into our soul
• too much talking
• not enough talking
• talking while he is awake and we are asleep. Mind you if we want to talk you better listen.
• bad breath
• scary exes
• ugly exes
• slutty, but hot exes
• bad clothing, hair, shoes
• too many compliments or not enough
• Annoying mother
• too much tongue
• too sensitive
• insecure


Huh. I got some work to do...

Radio Daze

Evidently, the radio is my new best friend. All of these different radio stations keep including 'news stories' related to dating. How timely is that? Maybe I'm not the only one who needs their advice.

There was some informal questionnaire/study (I shudder to use that word earnestly in this context) about the qualities men find most and least attractive in women. Here are some of those mentioned on that radio program:

UNATTRACTIVE QUALITIES:

• gets too tipsy/drunk and becomes grotesquely flirtatious
  
• is constantly surrounded by her friends, like an impenetrable wall around her
• won't make eye contact
• won't smile
• has a discontented look on her face (furrowed brow, angry, upset, etc)

ATTRACTIVE QUALITIES:

• makes eye contact
• smiles
• is willing to chat with (appropriate) strangers
• is self confident
• is a good dancer

There were probably more, but I couldn't capture all of them while driving. It's true that most of us like people who seem to like us back. People who seem to like themselves (without going over board) are even more attractive. Tell me something I don't know... Like what women find attractive in men. No, I'm serious. Where's that study?

Friends for Life

It's good that I have the friends I do – they keep me grounded. Whether it is my friend Cayli who is my reality check, and keeps reminding me that I am "normal" for feeling nervous about first dates, and finding love, since we all do... Or my friend Jen, who patiently runs the play by play of every interaction I've ever had, and then dissects it perfectly for me. Or my friend Sarah, from high school, who commiserates with me about her own dating experiences, and tells me what works or doesn't work with the men she meets. Or my Canadian artist friend Mia who said: "It's too bad that same sex marriage isn't recognized in DC, or you could marry me so I could get my Green Card."

(((Ha! There are so many things to comment on about that statement. But it all boils down to: Legally I am a guy, and she is a woman, so pretty much anywhere would be fine to get married, (unless there is still some homo-a-gogo action on the island of Lesbos, where men are forbidden, and heterosexuality punishable by death ~ than I think I'm good, thanks!) Plus, I saw that movie (Green Card) and it didn't end well. I mean, their scheme didn't work (Monticello...), not even commenting on the film's snooze-fest plot.)))

It was funny though, having so many friends talk me through what is so ridiculously routine for millions of other people. I've dated tons of people in the past, had first dates, relationships, the whole nine yards. It's just funny now to have my perspective tweaked at the same time my persona has also changed. Not only do I *think* differently, but I am also received differently, in part because of the change in my thinking and approach, but also in my appearance. Double whammy. So, I can't tell you how helpful it is to have these friends talk me down when I start to get too wound up in the minutia of it all.

Some of these friends have known me for over a decade, while others have known me for just a year. But in all cases, everyone tells me the objective truth about the changes they witness during my constant evolution. Things ranging from my self confidence slowly resurfacing (almost erring on cockiness), to the worrisome, over-analytical side dissipating when the testosterone levels are on the rise. {I am drafting another post to explain more about the direct relation of my T levels to my personality. More about that soon.}

Everyone keeps me in check by their no bullshit updates. More often than not, their running commentaries are not just obligatory twittering. Nope. These mo'fo's really lay it on me, calling me out when I let things get too out of whack in one direction or another. Not that I am doing the perfect job of striking the fine balance quite yet, but I feel really grateful to have these alliances with people who are rooting for me, and are willing to be honest to help me help myself. (What does the rest of the world do when they don't have their gaggle of gals telling them how to be a better man? No, really?!?)

Thanks, friends, for your assistance in helping me choose an outfit, for your guidance when I am about to make a wrong turn down Lover's Lane, and for your candor in kicking my ass when I really need it. I hope to make you all proud but putting all of your well thought out advice to good use. I'm trying! Stick with me, it's just gettin' good!

Jack the Tripper

I think my life accidentally has taken on the 'Jack Tripper' effect. In my past post, I joked about the stress of figuring out what clothing to wear on my 'heterosexual' date with a woman to ensure that I would look as manly and straight as possible. It's a bit dicey for me.

When I was a kid I loved Three's Company, but never did I fathom it would take on a foreshadowing affect in my life. I am surrounded by female friends, struggle in the dating scene because of my ambiguous sexuality, once considered going to culinary school, and wanted to own my own restaurant someday, etc. Little did I know back then it would be a parallel life.

I wonder how it seems to new people that I meet that so many of my closest friends are women. One the one hand, I think it does make me seem 'gayer' than I am, while on the other hand, I fear that it makes me seem noncommittal, like I refuse to settle down with the right one. I dunno.

There are so many elements to juggle in this new life of mine – so many layers to contemplate into infinity. Is it bad that I just don't want to think for a while, and just want to live, and try things out? I don't want to have to over-examine every fastidious detail of each interaction. Things like trying to look away when female joggers run by so that it won't seem confrontational if I look at them in their workout clothes. Or when I go in to hug a woman hello or goodbye, making sure my lean in with my shoulders, while keeping our hips apart mid-hug, so I won't seem like Mr. Groper.

There is so much to learn, and I am one of those idiots who is so hyper aware of everything, I believe it's my responsibility to learn everything I can immediately. Can I just play dumb, and pretend not to notice anything?

Why can't my life just have inane antics set to a prescribed laugh-track where everything is resolved in 22 minutes? Anyone care to join me for a fictional drink at the Regal Beagle?

Dressy Bessy

...So, I guess I failed to mention that I've been going on some dates lately. The funny part is that the whole point of this blog was to write about all of these experiences in hopes of illuminating some of the differences I am fielding 'before and after' my transition. But... Now that I am actually getting out there and dating, there is this weird guilt that I feel about making any referential points that someone might take personally, even if it's not a complaint. (This is no fun!)

Where do I begin when there is so much to discuss? (This has been part of my radio silence, honestly. When a blog is public, everyone has access to the shit I discuss. Even potentially the people that I hope never stumble upon this little blog of mine might someday find their descriptions on the monitor. How do I proceed?)

I will start with the easy part: my clothes. While preparing for my aforementioned dates, my gaggle of female friends all jumped in to ask me what I was wearing. Generally, this is a common question amongst 'ladies,' with the appropriate responses being: "Oooooh, perfect!" Or, "You know what I like that you should wear?" But with me, it's a little more complicated.

Not only were my friends curious about which 'look' I was going to be displaying, but they were also a tad bit concerned for me. "Um, so I think that soft, broken in, slim fitted salmon colored polo shirt that shows off your newly developed broad shoulders, and your various arm tattoos *might* be one option. I guess I'm just a little nervous that you basically wearing a bold pink polo shirt to show off your muscles might make you seem a little, um... Well – gay."

Riiiiiiiight.

The funniest part was that I had one date on Thursday, and picked out what I thought was the perfect outfit. A vintage (perfectly worn in) Christian Dior navy blue polo shirt, with a thin kelly green stripe, nice dark barely whiskered jeans, my favorite vintage naturally distressed weathered belt, and these great oiled mid toned brown leather side zippered boots with a pointed toe. (I swear it looked less gay than the very description I just penned for you. I promise.) And the polo was a smidge oversized on my frame, which I think added to the straight dude affect, rather than my fitted shirts, that scream 'flamer.' Heh.

But then I had a date for Sunday, and the problem started all over again. With so many of my clothing options apparently being barred by this impromptu gay-proofing fashion brigade, I had to think quickly. Many phone calls were exchanged, followed by a series of self portraits that I took on my cell phone, and quickly emailed to said friends to get their approval before I left for my date. (A dark chocolate brown half zip sweater, with a black t shirt, dark jeans, and dark boots. When I walked in, my date looked me up and down when she thought I wasn't looking. Funny. Was that a good or a bad sign? I nearly peed myself, hoping that my perfectly coiffed hair, and my smart fashion sense wasn't going to back fire on me.)

I kept doubting myself, wondering, "Is this a date, or does she think I'm her new gay best friend?" All the more reason to somehow *prove* that I like women. Huh. How does one do that without coming across as a misogynist, ironically? "You know what I like? Chicks with big..." Ugh, no – I knew enough to side step that disaster. Luckily a few other topics came up over dinner to assert my love of the feminine form (wait, that came out wrong...) You know what I mean.

My date asked me about some of the women I've dated in the past, and I was relieved that she definitively said "women." Siiiiiiigh ~ Phew! I passed. Not only as a straight guy, but apparently one that might have had past experiences dating women. Double phew! I got a little fidgety wondering what exactly to say and fess up about my past life. (Not in the Shirley MacLaine sort of way, but my chronological dating experiences.) I didn't know how to open up that can of worms about my past without everything spilling out. "You know what I like? Chicks with big... Did I mention that I used to be a chick? No? Hmmm. It must have slipped my mind." (I wasn't sure if this woman had read my blog before meeting up with me, so I have no clue what she knows or doesn't know about me. Um, awkward!)

The funniest part to me was that midway through dinner I noticed that the majority of people around us where all queer. Then it dawned on me that the huge queer rights rally in DC that day had ended right before we were meeting up for our date. I stupidly chose a restaurant downtown, in the center of the queer hubbub. Smoove, Will! Nice!

Yes, one of my first "straight" dates with a stranger post transition, and I'm the fucking dumb ass that picks National Coming Out Day to meet up at a restaurant mid queer parade route. WTF? Leave it to me. At least I looked good. Good and straight. Well...

Good Samaritan

I think I forgot to mention last week how a random stranger stopped me for a ride. A teeny elderly Bolivian woman flagged me down in a terribly residential, and remote part of DC last week, pleading for a ride to the nearest bus stop. Luckily, I was going in that very direction, and knew where to take her. The whole thing just struck me as funny.

I am so used to people formerly sizing me up as some militant man-hating, anti-establishment lesbian, clutching their purses as they passed, and almost shrieking with a grimace. It's strange now to simply pass as a guy, and a well mannered one at that. The perfect gentlemen...

It felt great that I could help this elderly woman, and better still that she trusted me enough to get in my car, despite my countless visible tattoos, and dark sunglasses. (The filmic villains always have tattoos and dark sunglasses. And a van... I have no van.)

After chatting for several minutes about how she used to live in this neighborhood, and now lives over the line in Maryland, but still works for a woman out here, yada yada yada, it was clear that she knew she was safe with me. It was such a flattering feeling. I still imagine myself looking like some shifty character that people feel threatened by, and therefore want to strike first, or keep their distance completely. Seeing this little old lady look at me with such candid appreciation and warmth as we pulled up to the bus stop was life altering to me.

I guess this is what they mean by 'crossing over.' It was aided by the fact that as she gathered up all of her articles while preparing to exit my car, she reached with one hand for the car door handle, and reached for my arm with her other hand. She clasped my forearm tightly, and as any good grandmother would do, she thanked me again, and said: "You are a very good man. I will be praying for you. God Bless You!" in her thick Bolivian accent.

I don't believe in god, but lord knows I need all of the prayers I can get. It made me think that maybe she wasn't the one who needed saving that day.

Controlled Substance

There is apparently some new study out that claims women on certain types of birth control actually prefer gentler, more humble men. I wonder how they conducted this study...

My field reports (insert nervous cough), have concluded the opposite. Many of the women that I have dated were not on birth control when they 'commenced' with our relationships. Only one woman was on birth control, and ironically, I think she thought I was too much of a pansy compared to the older, more virile men she had previously dated.

Those scientists need to give me some names and numbers... Cuz I may have been looking in the wrong direction.