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Out and Proud in Korea

Out and Proud in Korea

Growing up in a very conservative Christian, very controlling home meant often hearing how revolting my parents (my mother specifically) found homosexuality. Any signs of homosexuality—whether it was from people or bumper stickers—always brought a disgusted sound and remark from my mom. I went to a small, private Christian university and didn’t realize I was gay until age 22. Because of this, I planned on being celibate for the rest of my life. I came out to my mom, my siblings, and a few close friends soon after, but kept it to a few, unless it came up in conversation with people I trusted.

It wasn’t until I came to Korea, ironically enough, that I really started living out. After a few years here, I left Christianity and started dating. I hadn’t dated anyone before, I hadn’t been kissed before, and I most certainly had never had sex before. For the first few months, I felt out of place. I can’t tell you how many guys saw me as a freak for being 25 and a virgin. It was maddening because I just wanted to find someone and no one was giving me a chance. Not to mention that I live in a country that is obsessed with image and a long-haired, hairy, fat guy was just not what anyone in or around my city was looking for (plus the whole virginity thing). I have received messages during my time here asking me to shave my body hair for a hook-up (That’s way too much work!) or telling me that I would look better without a beard and with short hair (gurl, bye).

No

It wasn’t until I went to Singapore for a short vacation that I met this amazing guy who was not only super fine but also didn’t look at me like I was a freak for never having been kissed before. We spent every day of my vacation together. The third day I was there, he took me to my first gay bar. It was amazing being there and being able to kiss and talk in a safe place. I remember a lot of things about that night and of being with him for that week. He was my first—in every sense of the word. We were sort of together for a year and he even came to visit me in Korea. Those two weeks that I spent with him were two of the best weeks I have ever had. He had his flaws and our whatever-it-was had its flaws, but he taught me that I am someone who others can be attracted to.

It was another year before I got into the gay scene in Seoul. I went to a few events where I met some amazing people and started hanging out more often in the city than I ever had before. Every queer event that I attended brought me new friends. I had only spent a little time up there because I live an hour south in Cheonan, which is close enough to visit, but far enough away that it can be annoying.

A photo posted by Nick Holmes (@nickthehottie) on

Arriving at my first Korean pride festival in 2015 was pretty intense. When we (some friends and I up from Cheonan) got to the event, the borders were surrounded by anti-LGBT “Christian” groups protesting. They were dancing, singing, shouting condemnation, crying, praying, and holding numerous signs telling us how wrong homosexuality is. Once I entered the area, though, it all melted away. There was so much love. My favorite part of the whole day was marching in the parade. It was one of the most empowering and inspiring things I’ve ever been a part of. Just days before pride, SCOTUS ruled that same-sex marriage was legal all across the US. It was so great to see how far sexual minorities have come in both Korea and the United States.

This year’s pride event was also amazing. The protesters seemed to be less in number and volume. There were still a few points around the outside where they were holding signs of hatred in Korean while spewing words of “love” in English. I spent the day with some friends drinking, walking around to some of the booths, getting free stuff, dancing, and getting rained on. I thought the rain would deter people from coming, but the square in front of city hall was packed by the time they started directing people out onto the streets for the parade. We marched around downtown Seoul (same as last year). People were holding signs, dancing, drinking, and being merry. The crowds watching the procession had varying responses. Many were joining in the celebration, some were crying/wailing/praying, others were calling down damnation, and the rest just watched in confusion.

Pride 2016

It wasn’t until last year that I realized how important pride events are. Queer rights in Korea are basically non-existent. This country has such a long way to go to get where they need to be when it comes to human rights—but I have seen some changes. It’s been wonderful watching those of the younger generations embrace their queer friends. A really good friend of mine, who is getting married to another dear friend and moving to the US, came out to all of his friends and they were all accepting of who he is and who he loves. Another friend and I just threw him a bachelor party with all of his best friends and we all had a blast together.

As a gay foreigner in this country, I have it so much easier than my gay Korean friends. I’m out to everyone I spend my time around here—Korean or foreign. I have a great support system among the friends I’ve made here and have even been able to come out to a few coworkers over the years.

In order for Korea to move forward, more Koreans need to lead that charge. I understand the hesitation to come out, though. Queer Koreans with enough courage and strength to come out to their friends and family face ridicule, exclusion, and being forced out of their homes. I feel like this is a Catch 22 (is that the right phrase?) because things won’t start changing until there are more visible queer people here, but, for Koreans, coming out can have such dire consequences.

Flag of South Korean LGBT (source: Wikipedia)

I’m not sure where I see the queer community in Korea in the future. You know that feeling when you’ve been complacent and unsure for a long time, but you just know that something is going to happen soon—for better or worse? That’s where I feel like Korea is right now in regards to queer rights. I am hoping that something wonderful will happen, but that is up to those within the community itself: those who are out of the closet and those who have yet to leave it. Both this year’s pride festival and last year’s had the highest numbers of attendees than in years past. But, there has also been a lot of pushback. May those who are fighting continue to do so, regardless of how people respond.

Thanks Nick for sharing your story. I am super honored to have you be the first person ever to guest post on my blog and so grateful to have you as a friend.

Hugs and hugs,

Peter

Nick (the author) and Peter (Mustafa Jones)
Nick (the author) and Peter (Mustafa Jones)
Hating Gay Dating: Korea Edition

Hating Gay Dating: Korea Edition

Dating sucks. It sucks everywhere. Having a more active love life is something that I see as a to-do item that I just keep putting aside. Many moons have passed and I still haven’t gotten around to making any progress in the dating department. I’m pretty independent at this point, so it’s cool for now. But, I constantly romanticize that I’ll eventually find the right person and everything will just fall into place with my love life.

I’ve used dating websites and apps for a while now. I much prefer meeting people organically in real life situations like parties or through mutual friends. But, when I came to Korea, I didn’t have any friends. So, I decided to try online dating once again. My sister had recommended Tinder as a way to meet friends and that’s what I did at first. My first Tinder meeting turned out to be one of the best things I could have done. I met my great friend Nick through it. On top of Tinder, I downloaded Jack’d (pronounced “Jack Dee” here) because I heard it’s the most popular gay app in Korea. It’s basically Grindr. I’ve also kept my OKCupid profile current even though not many people use it here.

I was pretty insistent on my profiles that I only was looking for friends and dates, not hookups. I thought I could meet other expats living in Korea or even Koreans who could help show me around and teach me about life in Korea. After many hours of meticulous research, I would like to share with you the things I have learned about gay dating in Korea so far. (Please cite me in all academic papers.)

1. Profile pics can be…unusual.

He allegedly has a “little big dick”. Is it little or is it big? I’ll never know.

2. Some guys are very secretive.

Being openly gay is not accepted here pretty much at all. There’s no anti-discrimination laws preventing you from being fired if you’re gay (is this the United States?), which forces many guys to avoid showing their faces on apps.

So you see a lot of profile pictures like this:

#blairwitchproject

Some guys get more creative:

This guy seems looks like the perfect match for me. And he’s only looking for friends just like me!

3. Like anywhere, chatting can be difficult.

And the language barrier adds more to that. This guy starting a conversation with me just by unlocking pictures of his dick.

4. Guys can be super impatient.

I couldn’t forget the first time I got called an asshole here. Because I didn’t respond to this guy in seven minutes, he sent me (in my opinion) a very passive aggressive message, which I was not in the mood for. And of course, like Azaelia Banks, I’m never going to shy away from calling a bitch out on social media.

5. Guys can be super intense.

I replied “What the fuck?” to this guy and then he blocked me.

And here’s one of the scariest guys I’ve met through dating apps here in Korea. “Patrick” and I first matched on Tinder. Our conversation was pretty tame to start off. Things seemed promising.

 

One Tuesday or Wednesday, he asked me if I wanted to go ice skating that weekend. I had tentative plans with my sister and he lives pretty far away, so I didn’t respond immediately. I also didn’t want to explain why I couldn’t commit to his plan because I wasn’t sure if I even wanted to go all the way across the city to meet this guy. I didn’t really know much about him. Then I started getting passive aggressive messages (this seems to be a theme here) like “I guess we won’t hang out this weekend.” “I guess we won’t ever meet…” Stuff like that. I told him he was acting very dramatic. He sent a series of utterly crazy messages that I wish I could have screenshot before he unmatched with me. He did however find me on OKCupid and wrote this rant about some (maybe imaginary) Americans who told him that I wouldn’t be a good friend blablabla.

Please notice what tabs I had open.

So, bye Patrick. I will not be your Spongebob.

I met someone a few weeks ago who showed me Patrick’s picture on his phone and warned me about him, which confirmed my suspicions. Apparently, Patrick was making fake profiles using this guy’s pictures. That’s some Catfish shit and I’m not into it.

So, no love life to speak of here in Korea. Carry on posting your couples pics on Facebook and sending me  your wedding invitations.

Analysis and Conclusion (Date Lab: Part 2)

Analysis and Conclusion (Date Lab: Part 2)

Since my last blog post was a huge hit (with approximately 17 views in one day), I put off writing the second part of my Date Lab experience until now. These past few months have been crazy busy for me due to the stupid classes I signed up for thinking that I would enrich myself. I mean I took a proofreading class by choice. Who does that?

Anyways, I’m back on the blogging scene with lots of new material to write about. But, I figured, it’s only fair that I finish what I started with Date Lab and Riley. For a refresher, read this.

I ended up being pretty drunk when I got home (ALONE) after our date. I woke up the next morning still with no word from Riley. For the record, I was pretty sure I had put the ball in his court. So, when I had to do a post-date phone interview that morning during work, I figured I’d play it safe and answer cautiously to avoid making a fool of myself if Riley trashed me during his interview.

I thought the lady reporter was really nice and easy to talk to over the phone. She seemed to do this a lot and understand how awkward blind dates can be. We laughed about stuff as she ran down her list of questions. I went straight after work that day to do the video interview. The Washington Post staff had told me to wear a dark shirt because it shows up better on the screen. Having been a model for about five seconds, I also dabbed some concealer on a few problem areas because you never know who’s going to see the video when it comes out.

The video interview went fine as well. It was awkward to try to look straight at a camera lens one foot in front of my face, but lady who conducted the interview told me I gave good facial expressions. I’ve never had any complaints.

Riley and I did end up texting a little bit that day about how our interviews went. I tried to move the conversation to something other than Date Lab, but it just never really happened. This being the week of Christmas also made it harder to stay in touch since we were both going out of town. I knew that the story was set to be published in about a month and a half, but I didn’t hear anything from the newspaper for several weeks. Then the print reporter had a few “follow up” questions that she wanted to ask me:

  • What did he say when you told him you had a blog?
  • Do you remember him telling you about his trip to Germany for October Fest? What did you think of that?
  • You said personality-wise you had a lot in common–that you were both easy going. What other personality traits do you think you have in common?
  • He mentioned that you play for a kickball league and that he asked you if it was a gay league. What did you think of that?
  • When he said stuff during the date and in the taxi about your buying him a drink–did you think that was sweet or did it make you uncomfortable in that he was presuming a lot? This is where I realized homegirl was trying to sniff out a story and create some drama where there wasn’t any. 

I started checking the Date Lab section of WaPo mid January to see if it was the week our article would be published. Finally, on January 23, it happened. And my self-esteem would never be the same.

http://www.washingtonpost.com/lifestyle/magazine/date-lab-two-tall-guys-will-they-see-eye-to-eye/2015/01/13/0384e814-8a29-11e4-8ff4-fb93129c9c8b_story.html

I woke up one morning to see that the article had been published and I read it in bed before getting up for work. I didn’t think there was anything that scandalous about it. He hardly ever talked about dinosaurs but that apparently makes him a fucking “dinosaur enthusiast”. And I’m “looking for a hotter version of Bill Gates” which, for the record, I did say, but I feel like I elaborated on that a bit more. The whole article isn’t really a narrative; it’s just our answers to questions but without the questions included. I think that’s misleading, but I guess this is what I signed up for so I have to take it as it is. For example, she asked me if there were any dealbreakers. I said not really, but I guess him playing video games might be one because that’s not really my scene. However, the article makes it look like I brought up that I didn’t like that he plays video games. You spin that story, Nina. Spin it.

We both had to rate the date and I gave it a four because he hadn’t texted me the next day and I didn’t want to look like a loser if he gave me one star. Like I said though, none of this was really scandalous or embarrassing.

Then I watched the video.

Despite having put make-up on my face, you can still all my zits.

It’s always a little nerve-racking to watch a video of yourself or hear a recording of your voice. But this was terrible. I think I look terrible with a dark shirt and that horrible backdrop that they chose to use. Couldn’t they get some cool unicorn special effects going on back there? Using a damn WHITE background. Is the Post broke?
Is this how I really look?
It looks like I’ve washed that shirt five million times.

And then there were the comments. I was warned to take them with a grain of salt. I expected at least some to be homophobic. Although this is DC, where gay feels like the majority at times, I still have been called a faggot to my face twice (once by a crazy homeless man so maybe that time doesn’t count).

The comments were way different than that, but still not entirely pleasant to read:

  • “The entire episode seems kinda creepy.”
  • “The VERY first thing that caught my eye was how totally different both guys look from the instagram photos than they do in the video. They dont look like the same people… And I dont think Riley ever really left his dad’s garage…”
  • “That was so boring I don’t even want to read the comments later today.”
  • “He’s into dinosaurs and video games? I think Peter needed to lighten up and relax!”
  • “I think Riley needs to grow up.”
These comments, man.

People get crazy when they’re able to post anonymous comments. Like when you read the comments on a Justin Bieber video, and people start talking about Nazis. You’re like, “how did we get here?” According to these anon commenters, I’m stuck up and Riley’s a loser that never left his parents’ house. And we’re both boring. None of this is true, but there’s no use trying to defend either of us now.

Here are my two favorite comments:

  • “good looking gay boys using date lab? this must be a prank. Peter should move to NYC, where I and all my gorgeous gay husbands are from. he is a better fit there than for DC. I don’t know a single good looking gay man who is into video games (they have no time for that) …. so, ummmm. not a good match. but then again, as the classic joke goes ‘what do lesbians do on the second date?’ (they show up with a U-haul.) what do gay men do on the second date? (what second date?)”

I think he’s saying I should move to New York because I’m hot. Okay…I’m feeling it.

  • Snog: Peter. Marry: Riley. Avoid: Datelab.

SOMEONE WOULD SNOG ME!!!

On top of all this, Riley wrote a post about the whole experience for DCist, and it got published the same day the Date Lab article came out: http://dcist.com/2015/01/i_survived_the_posts_date_lab.php

Luckily for me, he didn’t say anything about how I came across as disinterested in my interviews. He mostly focused on the whole experience. He even texted me a link to his article, which is a polite thing to do. Some comments on this one were a little more scandalous because people speculated about whether or not we “banged”. (We didn’t.)

After all was said and done though, I’m still a huge fan of making fun of people including myself. I posted the link to the Post article on my Facebook and even circulated it around at my office. It was a big hit and a conversation starter for awhile. Even my landlord saw it. It did take a huge toll on my self esteem for some time though. No matter how many people told me I looked fine in the video, I still didn’t feel attractive for a good two months after that. But, thanks to more random hook-ups and boys starting and stopping talking to me without reason, I’m back at my normal personal worth level of just below average (only kidding). But, I don’t regret going on Date Lab. It was something different and good overall. Maybe someday I’ll end up famous with a huge penis like John Hamm and people will find this old Date Lab article and laugh because I’ll be beautiful and famous and in a relationship.

 But most likely not. Time to invest in some more cats.
17 Again

17 Again

Receiving a scholarship to go to an international high school in Costa Rica is one of my proudest achievements. I feel the need to bring it up often to let the belittling assholes of DC know that they should step down because I’m an accomplished motherfucker too. Although I sugarcoat my time there to other people, I had a fair amount of struggle (most of which I created myself). The second year I was there, I probably cried at least once a day. I was sad because the boy I was in love with didn’t want to be with me. I stressed about getting in to college and more importantly, paying for it. And like any teenager, I felt like NO ONE UNDERSTOOD ME.

But my time at UWC was probably the best thing that could have happened to me. I kept a journal throughout my time in Costa Rica, which I found a while back at my parents’ house. I also had a burn book, but that’s a different story. Several of my friends would read my journal at school because they thought it was funny. This eventually morphed into this blog and here we are today. Despite how embarrassing it is, I decided to share my first entry complete with comments from my modern-day self. I was a little bitch to say the least.

UWCFirstJournalEntryTo sum things up, I miss being 17 because I had:

-less body hair

-less gray hair

-less responsibility

 

But I don’t miss anything else. Goodbye, 2006.

Pocahontas Wave

I convinced myself that I’m HIV positive

I convinced myself that I’m HIV positive

My sex life is nothing to brag about. Although I do have some good stories about a Turkish Airlines flight attendant whose name means “dolphin” and a guy who literally ran out of my house pre-hookup, my sexy times aren’t great. Like any good Midwestern boy, I pledged my virginity to God until I started dating a dude. Since then, I’ve had some short-term relationships but mostly one-time things that happen after nights out. My special friends and I don’t really end up doing too much sexually. I typically am really tired at this point in the night and gay sex requires so much preparation! Not something you can just do spur of the moment, in my opinion.

I never really thought too much about contracting something from my limited sexual encounters. I always used protection and went to school in a college town in Oklahoma. There are a fair amount of homos in Norman, but the group is quite incestuous so if you’ve slept with one person, you’ve indirectly slept with everyone. Of course, STDs and HIV exist even there, but I thought that my standards would help me avoid ever contracting one of those diseases/viruses/skin conditions. I didn’t meet up with people from Grindr, Adam4Adam, or Craigslist. That was too risky for me. So, I thought that I was, without a doubt, clean.

My sexual promiscuity peaked during my year-long study abroad in Turkey. It was nice to be in a city of 15 million people where I got more attention for being a foreigner. This was all fun until I came back to the U.S. While I was at home for the summer, I decided to get my first STD/HIV test to make sure that I hadn’t picked anything up. While I waited two weeks for my results, I convinced myself that I was dying from AIDS. I remember watching a movie where there was a funeral. I started bawling because I thought of how embarrassed my family would be burying me (after I had died from AIDS) knowing that I had contracted HIV most likely by having a mediocre one-time sexual relation with someone whose name I couldn’t remember. I didn’t want to die in general, but death by AIDS seemed to be the absolute worst scenario at the time. On the day I was to pick up my test results, I was babysitting my 11-year-old sister and decided to take her with me to the clinic. To my relief, everything came back negative. I celebrated by taking my sister to Wal-Mart and letting her pick out whatever she wanted as long as she didn’t tell my parents where I took her. She chose chicken nuggets.

After that, I pushed my fear of STDs to the back of my mind for a couple of years. I returned to Norman to finish college , dated a couple of guys, hooked up with a couple more, and didn’t think twice about it. I wasn’t sick. I didn’t have pus coming out of my penis. Life was ok.

After graduating, I moved to DC and thought things were going to look up for my sex life. A new study from Gallup found that 10% of DC residents identify as LGBT. I had been going through a dry spell of almost a year and wanted to get some action. Like a prepubescent girl, I still hadn’t gotten over the last guy I was seeing the summer before. My drought finally ended, but not in DC.

I went to Puerto Rico for Labor Day weekend by myself to take a break from everything and randomly booked a hostel online. Later on, I learned that all of the staff there were gay. What luck! I then kind of hooked up with the hostel manager in a back room on a nasty-ass mattress. “Live a little,” I thought.

But once I returned, paranoia set in that my tropical tryst might have been riskier than I expected. Although most of this was the result of my anxiety, I also blame the epidemic levels of HIV in the city I live in. Although this article is a little old, it shows how DC has HIV/AIDS Rates Higher Than Some African Countries

WHAT?!?!

image

I also have met (not in the biblical sense) more people here that either live with a sexually transmitted disease or virus or have been treated for one. I’m scared that it’s inevitable that I’ll get one too.

So, I am 100% in favor of HIV/STD testing and prevention but it seemed like an omen that I started noticing a million signs for HIV testing and living with HIV all over DC. I could brush my paranoia aside for awhile but after a month, I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to know. With trembling hands, I went to the local community health clinic after work one day, sweating bullets. What if I was HIV positive? Could it really happen to me? While waiting, I saw all of the other gay guys checking Grindr. I don’t use that, so I should be fine, right? When my number was finally called, the nurse drawing my blood had to use a smaller needle because I was so nervous that my veins had constricted. I tested negative that time as well, so I audibly breathed a huge sigh of relief and patted myself on the back. Then the nurse told me that there is a window period of 1-3 months where HIV antibodies develop. This means that I couldn’t be sure that I was HIV-free until December. Wait…what?

As I celebrated my negative status by treating myself to (read: gorging on) frozen yogurt, I started to realize that for two more months, I would be living in sexual purgatory. I would sit at work and look up all of the symptoms of HIV: flu-like sickness, rash on the chest or back, night sweats, mouth sores, weight loss. Then I would go home and convince myself that I had these symptoms. So, I would get tested again. And again. Over the last four months, I have been tested for HIV EIGHT times. I went to two clinics twice, bought two home testing kits from CVS (took one in the bathroom at work), and got tested by my doctor twice. I was a mess to say the least.

And the condoms! Everyone wanted to give me condoms. One lady gave me a bag with 62 condoms and 28 packets of lube. Really? I doubt that I’ll have sex 62 more times before I die at the rate I’m going.

Here are some photos to guide you through this terrifying time of my life:

IMG_0345
Paid $40 for this HIV test at CVS. Thank God for that coupon.

Photo on 1-9-14 at 10.23 PM #2 Photo on 1-9-14 at 10.23 PM #3 Photo on 1-9-14 at 10.23 PM

What am I supposed to do with all these condoms???

IMG_0419
This is what 62 condoms and 22 packets of lube look like
IMG_0420
This is what I look like wearing 62 condoms and 22 packets of lube

All praise be to Jesus, all 8 tests came back negative for HIV and I’m well outside of the three month window period. I can now return to my normal DC sex life of not having sex because no one is interested and because it scares the shit out of me.

But in all seriousness, HIV and STDs are scary things that I do not wish to ever have to deal with, either physically or emotionally. I’m pretty sure that I’ve traumatized myself just by thinking that I have something, so I cannot imagine what it would be like for that to be a reality. But for a substantial amount of people, it is. This little scare episode led me to learn a lot about these health conditions as well as to accept that an STD or HIV is not the end of the world. HIV affects men seeking men disproportionately more than heterosexual men and women, so it is a real concern, especially in a large, gay-friendly city like Washington, DC. But, along with all of these statistics that I can now spout out in my sleep, I’ve learned that tolerance is just as necessary as education. Before all of this, I had assumed that all HIV-positive people slept around and were dirty. If I were positive, people would probably start to think the same about me. But this isn’t true and it isn’t necessary. People are people are people. Some are black; some are white; some are purple. Some are HIV-positive and that’s ok. Not ideal, but ok.

Another big lesson I took away from this is that it’s alright to be picky about who you have sexy times with. I always thought that I had been, but there are nights when I definitely lowered the bar and went home with some questionable characters. And no matter how desperate I was for a some sexual healing, I now know that a one-time hook-up can have some serious consequences. So, be safe. If you need a condom, I’ve got 62 that are up for grabs.

Craiglist Cray Crays

Craiglist Cray Crays

When I moved to Washington in February, I signed a lease for six months. I thought a year was a little too much commitment for me. What if I didn’t like the neighborhood, my roommates, my room, etc? My lease ends this month. I had been looking at new places to live all summer but nothing matched my price range and aesthetic. I kept telling myself that I have plenty of time. Yada yada. After returning from my trip to Peru, I realized that shit had just gotten real. So, like any young professional in DC with a good head on my shoulders, I began scrolling the wonderful pages of Craigslist and emailing a thousand real people and a thousand scam artists.

When you email someone from CL, you accept that you are going to have to interact with some strange (and by strange I mean ridiculously ratchet) people that are so confused, I don’t even understand how they exist. I just wanted to highlight a couple very real examples of these cray crays that I have encountered in the past week:

1. Scavenger hunt lady

I considered living by myself for a hot minute. I lived in a studio in Armenia and I absolutely hated it but it’s difficult for me to tell where my hatred toward the country ends and my hatred toward the apartment begins. I told myself, maybe it’ll work out this time. I can afford to pay a little more than I’m currently paying. I can get a cat or fifteen to share my love with. I can watch porn without headphones. It’s a win-win situation. Yeah, that didn’t work out. But, I did try to look at this one bedroom apartment until I was thrown off by this very specific list of tasks to complete before actually seeing the place.

I sent my standard cut and paste email to this lady to say that I’m interested and can I look at the place. Here’s her response:

“Hi Peter,

I am having a viewing tomorrow, Tuesday, at 6pm. Can you make this? I probably won’t be having another viewing for at least another week after tomorrow. Let me know if you can make tomorrow.

If you plan on coming in, please reconfirm by sending me a text at 202-xxx-xxxx tomorrow after 3pm but before 4pm. I will assume you are not coming if I do not hear back between those times. The address is xxxx xth Street, NW, Apt. xxx. When you get there, call 202-xxx-xxxx and ask for Mac– he will open the door. He will not know anything about the rental details so just save your questions and ask me afterwards

Thanks,

Yvonne”

Dear Yvonne, would you like fries with that very complicated order?! Do I have to say “open sesame” too? Shit, man. I don’t get paid enough for this. I’m sure there is some logic (even a little bit) hidden in that nonsense but I had enough. Needless to say, Yvonne and I never met up. I couldn’t find Mac.

2. Nudist Sluts

I saw this other ad on CL where two gay guys are looking for a roommate. Although it’s refreshing to see people openly display their sexuality here, I haven’t had the best luck with gay roomies (my next blog will be titled “The Princess Diaries” and will be about living with a cast member of the new TV show called “The Real Twinks of Homo County”). Once again, I thought, maybe this will work out. I’ll have a couple cool roomies that can welcome me into the very beautiful, very judgmental DC gay community. I could smell that something was mildly fishy from this paragraph in their CL ad:

“We also like the freedom of being naked at home (especially in the summer) and would ideally find someone who is also comfortable hanging out nude in their own home and is open with their sexuality. It’s weird to some, but just makes sense to be able to be comfortable at home. (We also have the occasional naked cocktail party and always make our way to the hot tub naked).”

Yeah, now I realize that should have been a big rainbow flag. But maybe I’m ok being nude around the house? I guess I’ve never tried it. But their response to my initial email gave me the 411 real quick.

“Thanks for the email Peter!

I imagine given the ad that you are comfortable with nudity and being naked? I love going to nude beaches, resorts, nude boating, hot tubbing, cocktail parties, ect…. We have found that in order to be fully comfortable naked around the house, it has to be a shared experience that everyone is comfortable with and partakes in. In addition to the nudity, we are very sexual and open with it. We play anytime, anywhere, and enjoy having roommates at least comfortable with mutual masturbation.

Please let me know your thoughts and comfort level with the above. It really is an amazing house in an awesome location. Attached is a pic so you know that I’m not some crazy troll. lol”

Image(If you see this guy ever, please ask him WTF is nude boating.)

What the fuck is nude boating?! Like, I understand what it implies but who does that and where? And as much as I could use a good massage (if you get my drift), I feel like they would exhaust me sexually and that I would lock myself in my room all the time to avoid everyone seeing my ass pimples and random arm hairs.

I forwarded their email to my current roommate Chi-Chi and this is her flawless response:

“I told you they were a mini-nudist colony.

And they said at the bare minimum you have to be comfortable with mutual masturbation. That is the minimum. Like you can’t just be the one roommate shuffling around minding his business and you can’t just watch, you must actively partake in the activities.

This is not even a nudist colony, it’s a live in bathouse.

And then he had the nerve to send a picture.

Do you think their couches and chairs have plastic slipcovers?

Or do they just sit on them in their bare asses?

And they have a cat.

Does the cat just watch while all this is going on?

Does the cat sit in their lap while they are nude?

Is the cat comfortable?”

That’s the million dollar question: Is the cat comfortable?