5. Meet Mr. Right at a Sporting Event

            There are times when I surprise myself and agree to activities I normally would not.  On Valentine’s Day weekend (2016), I was asked by some sportier friends if I wanted to attend a  N.A.G.A.A. (North American Gay Athletic Association) softball tournament in Palm Springs.   While I am almost never a participant in sports, I can sometimes be convinced to observe, based mostly on the quality of items at the snack and peripherally on the attractiveness of the athletes.  Softball is reasonably un-boring and this particular location had an air-conditioned restaurant with great views and a menu filled with all things fried.  I acquiesced. 

                Unsure of how to dress for such an occasion, I decided to wear my sportiest article of clothing – a V-neck (tennis) sweater vest in aqua blue.  I paired this with a white polo, navy chinos with a very subtle, tone-on-tone micro-dot and my white leather Coach tennis shoes.  The literal topper was a jaunty baseball cap I received as a gift from the US Senate.  And by gift I mean I bought it at the Hart Senate Office Building Gift Shop. 

                We arrived and I found the snack bar very much to my liking and most of the players were attractive and talented.  Quelle surprise!  We watched one game while I savored my basket(s) of fried things (pickles, potatoes (both fry and tot), chicken).  After the feast those who actually wanted to watch the games wanted to move outside.  I acquiesced again as I had agreed to this activity and apparently you have to watch sports from a seat near the field. 

                After a bit, my multiple iced teas came full circle and I had to get up and find the restroom.  On my way back to the snack bar (the location of the restrooms, not to eat more food) I noticed an attractive gentleman of Asian descent wearing a softball uniform, looking at me and smiling.  Unused to being “checked out”, I returned the smile but felt I needed the input of my more worldly friends before I actually instigated a conversation.  When I returned to my seat I was delighted to know my friends were as delightfully nosey as necessary and had witnessed the events.  They assured me I was indeed being checked out.  I love me some nosey gays, y’all; in context, of course.

                Normally I am disinclined to believe someone is interested in me but before I could talk myself out of it, I walked over to this gentleman all bold and whatnot and said, “Hi”.  He smiled and introduced himself.  He complimented me on my aqua blue sweater vest, stating, “I noticed you as soon as you walked in.”  This is the reason I am dressed well no matter what I’m doing.  It gets you noticed, people; a little tip from your Uncle Dusty.

                We talked for a bit and he told me he was “into 420”.  I didn’t know if this meant his team was doing well in the tournament or some other athletic thing so I said, “Oh, that’s good.  I’m not a huge 420 fan, but you should do what makes you happy.” 

                We had our first date later that night at Starbucks and had the most wonderful conversation.  Initially he wanted to meet at a bar but, you can’t talk at a bar, especially after an athletic tournament.  There are far too many people yelling, singing, Woo-Hooing.  Have you ever witnessed a quietly chatty intoxicated athlete?  I didn’t think so.

                I discovered he lived in Las Vegas and our second date was planned for the following weekend.  As I am 45 years old, I thought it would be a great adventure, plus it’s only a quick flight from Long Beach.  I had never spent the weekend with someone but since I was at least 4 inches taller and had about 40 pounds on him, I felt I could protect myself should he decide to try to murder me.  However, I left all his info with my friend Jamie just in case I disappeared.  I mean, it is Vegas.  Why do you think they based the original CSI there?  It’s not because of their awesome police force.

                The weekend was very revealing, to say the least.  As I am not a fan of gambling or buffet eating, I find little reason to go to Vegas, but I actually enjoyed myself.  To my dismay, I discovered 420 meant marijuana.  As you know I am fiercely anti-drug, even marijuana.  Don’t worry, he has a prescription but apparently under Nevada law a prescription for medical marijuana allows you to grow your own marijuana…in your garage.   

I’m sorry, but dating a marijuana farmer is not the narrative I have written for my life.  Sadly, I had to bid him adieu and we said goodbye forever, at the airport, standing beside a slot machine, in a cloudy haze emanating from a nearby elderly gambler squandering his Social Security check and exhaling smoke from the hole left by his tracheotomy.  Ah, romance.

                On to #6 – Meeting Mr. Right through Brunch with Friends.

4. Meet Mr. Right Through Volunteering

             Even though OKCupid was 37 kinds of ridiculous, I still held out hope because, well, I had paid for hope.  The last straw came when my profile as liked by a gentleman who was a newly married bisexual man with a bisexual wife and they were in an open marriage and he wanted to meet me.  I am unsure what in my profile gave him the idea I would be interested in that type of interaction, but he had clearly mis-assessed the situation with little old vanilla me. 

                So, I returned to my list, saw Volunteering as the next avenue and decided to wait and see what would present itself.  I volunteer at my church and with the Transgender program in Orange County but those had offered no options for husband material. 

Now, I have always been someone who has an altruistic nature; I have long volunteered for all sorts of organizations and of late have been focused on trying to be the person I needed when I was younger, which led me to PFLAG. 

                PFLAG is Parents and Friends of Lesbians and Gays.  I first heard about it while watching the movie Reality Bites and never thought much else about it as there were no PFLAG chapters in Mississippi until very recently and even now there are only three chapters in the state.  There are three chapters within 10 miles of my house in SoCal, so I have an opportunity to get involved and be part of the support network for gay, lesbian and transgender youth. 

                I was invited to my first PFLAG meeting by an activist I met at a screening of a fantastic documentary called Equal Means Equal.  It’s about Women’s Rights and you need to see it as quickly as you can.  Get thee to an art theatre!  Ms. Activist is an active member of many, many organizations and PFLAG is but one.  When she asked me how I gave back to my community, I told her about some of my volunteering but she told me I could do more.  When challenged, I always rise to the occasion and when I arrived at the first meeting at the Jewish Synagogue, I realized this would strictly be about volunteering and not match-making.  There was not one single soul near my age.  Most were a bit older than me and more than a few were significantly older.  They were old, y’all.  Old like The Pope. 

However, this works for me on a number of levels.  I am a frog’s hair shy of 46 and am no longer anywhere near the youngest person at work, as I used to be.  I don’t think I look my age but it doesn’t mean I don’t often feel my age.  Being the youngest person in any location makes me feel younger, at least on the inside.  Why do you think I like Palm Springs so much?  I mean, other than they’re the only people who dress like me that aren’t actually playing golf or being rude to staff at a country club.

                I have no problem dating someone ten or even 12 years older, but I have my limits.  I am not looking to become someone’s home health aide.  I went into healthcare administration because it offers the opportunity to indirectly help those who are in ill health.  I don’t like me when I’m sick, much less someone else.  Realizing I was not to find my intended betrothed at this particular function, I spied someone very near my age, a lovely Japanese lady named Moss and moseyed on over to say “Howdy”.  Well, I said howdy metaphorically.  I don’t actually talk like that, at least not anymore. 

We immediately bonded and have become fast friends, spending lots of quality time enjoying the numerous things we have in common.  I even taught her how to make shrimp and grits, using a recipe she gave me.   She is the Asian Grace to my Southern Will.  What?  I could be a Will, multiple similarities to Beverly Leslie notwithstanding.  As we are both in search of a proper gentleman companion, we have decided to help each other find the right person.  And, who knows, maybe we’ll spend so much time together we will realize we are right for each other since everyone else is straight running crazy these days. 

Stranger things have happened, right?  Offhand I can’t think of any…