I was in 'the swamp' aka the basement doing laundry when I heard J and his boyfriend B come in. Hadn't seen them in awhile, so I popped up from below. I was wearing only pants.

J: Oh you have a tattoo! Of a key-hole, aw. Will your new boyfriend get a tattoo of a key?
H: No, I got it to show that I don't think I'm going to find a boyfriend.
J: Well that's certainly taking an optimistic stance on things.

Whatever. The 'keyhole tat' represents strength. I've had a few LTR's through the years, and a lot more boyfriends -- and nothing's worked out. I'm single. I might not like it, but there you have it.

In Washington, one of my visits was to the gay bookstore off Dupont Circle. Do I gravitate to fun gay accessories, gay comic books or gay mysteries? Do I thumb through hunky 'firemen' calendars or circuitparty CD's? No -- I bee-line to the 'relationship' section: Books with titles such as How to Make Love Last, or Dating the Greek Gods. etc etc. Oh, it's miserable.

But as I leaf through another one of these Guides for the Lovelorn, let's dissect some of their concepts:

• Must have a sense of humor - There once was a girl from Nantucket...
• Likes Attract Likes - Since we're told by Hollywood and reliable sources like Seventeen Magazine that "opposites attract", have I just been foolishly looking for Mr. Goodbar all these years? Perhaps I've found no one who's like me...!
• Ability to Communicate - UGH! Pass the speaking stone.
• Ability to Compromise - The minute I pipe up about something that's important to me, Man of the Hour rolls their eyes and says I don't know how to compromise. Yes, I've heard this one A LOT. What to DO about it? Well, I have some ideas, but that's for later...
• Must be self-confident - Supposedly you have the other items and this one falls by itself into place. "Just Be Yourself." I wouldn't call myself insecure -- until I start reading one of these books! Ignorance is Bliss.

Well that's enough for now, you get the idea. They're all cut from the same cloth.

So, here's a few things I know about myself, and that have been pointed out to me as "difficulties" in the past:

• I need to be by myself - some times a lot. Being the Life of the Party, communicating about my feelings, and still have enough energy for awesome sex is exhausting. Give me a separate room with a good book and I'll be happy. Give me a country road or a path in the woods and Grace. Give me an old movie or three to watch obsessively over and over until I know all the lines. Give me...
• I don't know how to cook - During my last real attempt to cook for one of my boyfriends earlier this year, Plant Material guy pointed out (while squirming on his IKEA barstool): I have a real problem with someone who doesn't know how to use a knife in the kitchen.
  Well, nuff said. Now, mind you, that doesn't mean I'm camping out in McDonalds every day. It means I'm perfectly happy cooking a boatload of spaghetti for bulk consumption, or making a variety of nutritious -- yet delicious! -- flavored oatmeal breakfasts. I like easy-to-cook meals such as balogna sandwiches, cereal, celery, yogurt, apples, oranges, bananas and grapes. It means I have much more time to do important things like... blog.
• I don't know how to clean - Well, that's not true: I *do* know how to clean. I just don't. Well, I'm not a slob, either. I'm more of a cluttery type person. Piles of books, piles of shoes, piles of papers, tumbleweeds of dog hair. There aren't enough apartments featuring floor-to-ceiling bookshelves to keep all this stuff. If I had my own room, it shouldn't matter to anyone else, anyhow.
• I'm expressive - Read: I am not butch. I don't like thinking much about this one. You see, I don't think it's a problem. Seems like other folks do think it's a problem, though. It's expressed in weird ways "I'm uncomfortable being too gay." I'll hear. Like I'm the baton-twirler in the Pride Parade or something. Effeminacy has nothing to do with strength of character, which I most certainly hope I do have. But because my wrists sometimes have a mind of their own, I'm tossed aside. I'm particularly frustrated with this one for two reasons: I have a lot of faithful, long-term friends (not to mention coworkers) who don't seem to have problems spending time with me; and second, many of these self-haters don't seem to have any problem with my dick up their ass.

Man Found In Basement Apartment With 100 Cats.