Meeting someone at church was not an option. When I went to worship, I focused on my spiritual relationship, not trying to start one with a dude sitting beside me in an ill-fitting suit.
Thanks to connections at the magazine, I scored tickets to a few college football games, but the male fans seemed either too caught up in the action on the fields or in their beer cups to give me any play. The few poetry readings I attended in order to find a “deep” brother also did not yield any results, beyond a few purchases of some spoken word CD’s.
In order to achieve my mission of love, I started going out to clubs, alone, to meet Mr. Right. Even though I loved D and K, I did not want any distractions or competition. It seems desperation radiated from my body. I would go into the club, order a screwdriver and perch on my chair trying to look cool, willing someone to ask me to dance. Of course, when it did not happen, I would have my two drinks and go home, alone.
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