Six months after dating a guy for more than a year and suffering from a humiliating and public separation, I was ready to try dating again. I found the perfect guy. He liked to have a good time, but was opposite from my ex in that he was a) nice to me b) could drive, and did c) called and showed up when he said he would.
I had a good time with M. He'd whisk me off to the beach for the day, play me cheesy Bon Jovi songs, and generally was just a nice guy to be around.
Things started to go south when I realized that he was MUCH more feminine than I am. I'd show up at his place for a date, and sit on the couch for 30 minutes while he tried to figure out what to wear. He'd come out with two shirts, hold them up, and ask my opinion.
"That one," I'd quickly say.
He'd hustle back into his room, then 5 minutes later come out with the shirt I'd picked, and a new choice.
"What about these two?"
"The one I picked before," I'd say. At first I thought it was kind of funny.
He primped, he gelled, he shaved more often than I did, and often smelled better. He played cheesy Bon Jovi songs.
As time went on I became less amused and more terse with him, which wasn't fair on my part.
Finally, after a couple months of dating, we parted on good terms.
Not 4 months later the news came. M is gay. I heard it through the grapevine. It was so obviously true. I haven't seen him more than twice since then, we both went our separate ways, but to me he seems to have really found himself. Seems more comfortable in his skin. I don't know if he always knew and just tried to hide it because of the right-wing redneck town we lived in, or what.
I like to tell myself that even if he did know, my being a tad bitchy at times pushed him over the edge of wanting to give it a go with women. I'm probably giving myself too much credit. Either way, I was the last girl he ever had sex with.