The Problem with Presumption

ve been staring at the man infront of me for a good 5 minutes now. Dark rimmed glasses, clean shaven, crew cut hair, chubby on the side with a belly that he got from too much beer or being too lazy. He´s been asking too much questions as well and I feel like I´m on a job Interview or something.
He´s ok, I guess.
On a rainy Monday afternoon when everything is dark and gloomy, it is better to have someone to talk with over a cup of hot tea than stay in bed and think about home and realize that yes, I actually miss Carbon Monoxide from my polluted but definitely fabulous third world.

José (picture above) found my dusting profile in Gaydar months ago. Since I was busy with my so called life, I wasn´t able to check my messages there for what seemed like a decade now. Alas, I saw his 2 notes saying he liked my profile and that he would like to have coffee with me. After a brief exchange of email addresses and eventually numbers, he now sits before me.

He talks rubbish. He is projecting a pretentiously immaculate image whiter than Beyonce´s bleached teeth. I´m hearing enough but as a good, asian catholic girl, I crossed my legs, sipped my warm expensive wildrose tea and pretend that I fancy his nonsense.

The man is a housewife sans husband---He doesn´t go out. He likes to stay at home. Dinner with friends. Drink wine. Watch films. Paseos. Hates queens. Hates the darkroom. Hates the posers. Hates his ex-boyfriend. Blah blah blah blah...the works.

I am bored. So bored that if he asks me to sleep with him, I will. Out of boredom.

After thirty minutes of chatting about everything including gay websites and stuff, we finally called it an afternoon. Thank God.

His last statements were bombs that woke me up to my senses.

¨Jeno, thanks for the day, I had fun but you know how it is...there are people who attract you sexually and there are some who dont

I stopped and dropped my jaw.

¨And who the hell told you that I want to go to bed with you anyway, Mr. fat, balding , depressive , presumptuous fag?¨ I thought.

I told you I am nice so the only thing I came up with was this:

¨We didn´t have any expectations anyway but to have coffee. Did we?¨.

¨I´m sorry , that was as stupid thing for me to say¨ he said dramatically and we parted ways.

I assessed myself after the date. Did I look easy? Did I flirt (unconsciously) too much?

I was about to take Prozac out of low self esteem when suddenly the phone rang. It was him.

¨Jeno, can you give me the website for BEARS

Atkins works. Believe me.

Now, kidding aside. Why are there men who are so presumptuous that they feel like they are God´s gift to women? You ask for a light, they think you want to burn them in bed; You give them a smile they immediately think you want to give them a head; you go out with them for a movie, they automatically think their bed (or yours) is an extension of the moviehouse; they give you flowers and they think you would give them your bud.

What is the world coming into?

Confidence is one thing but too much confidence is another story. Sorry, gentlemen but DON´t FLATTER yourselves. You are not Brad Pitt nor Bill Gates (with all his money of course) for me to drool at.

The mirror doesn't lie. See yourself on it first before presuming anything. Like fresh air, it will do you good. I promise.