Category Archives: Robert Kingett on LGBT Dating
The Target store is a strange place. It does its very best to pretend it isn’t a corporation. There are no clerks perched at desk saying “please hold” every few minutes as if they are auditioning to be an extra in a movie or sour-faced showgirls stacking shelves with garish products, hurrying along pretending they’re too busy to help you, no groaning rails or stacks of boxes that clutter the isles like an unkempt warehouse. Instead, it’s a store for the confused. Shoppers, usually pushing a stroller pass by wondering idly if they should get this kind of shampoo because their love interest saw the checkbook last month.
It is a Monday when I arrive at the Target store. I have a goal in mind, as every shopper has before they get sidetracked by the deals Target displays like a new kind of cure for cancer. I am here to get some clothes and some electronics, and I will not be distracted by anyone or anything in this store. I want to get back in my warm apartment and continue bonding with my email client before I bond with my Microsoft Word document and then my Netflix account. I make my way to a place that I have to go to before anywhere else; the customer service desk so I can have an employee guide me around the store.
GAY DATING NIGHTMARES –
Text can show a lot of things about a person. When someone sends an email, it shows the reader three very important traits.
How articulate they are. Email requires thought in order to expand on
thoughts and if the message is short then the person can’t even think
their way out of a shirt.
Effort. If the person writes a long message then the person has a lot
of diligence and it shows that he can stay on task and get things done.
How deep their head goes. A long email shows more than what they want
to reveal, such as how deep their well is for example. Short messages
usually translate into “there’s a lot of hot air in this blimp”
But Email can’t show you everything about a person and this is why
that initial phone call is important. This next contestant in my quest
to find my forever catches me on a Sunday.
Sundays are dangerous days for me, but not nearly as dangerous as my
wandering fingers when I’ve exhausted all work and have no video games
to play. My boredom, or hormones, finds me goggling at brown abs and
bulging arm muscles in the wee hours of the afternoon. I’m looking at a
stomach the color of brown sugar pulsating with biceps when a message
flies into my dating inbox. It’s very rare this happens so I eagerly
click into the message. The spelling and grammar is as flawless as a
tax-free society but the message is very short – waving red flags at me
that I don’t see.
“Hi. My name is Jason. I recognize you. You’re a journalist. Love
your work. I want to chat more, Babe. Is that okay? Please say yes. I
think we should. I think that’s fair.”
I can hear the eagerness behind his message so I check him out. His
face is brown, as I hoped it would be, and it sports a smile that’s
brimming on being cute. He has a balled head, and I can see that he’s 10
years older than me. His smile is wide though and this tells me that
there are guys who enjoy having fun outside of the bedroom. Because the
fridge is being unusually quiet tonight I dish out my cell number like
it’s a lottery ticket and wait for the winning call.
Not even a minute later my phone vibrates. I answer it almost
expecting Denzel Washington to greet me and propose but what meets my
ear is a husky mesh of needy and overwhelming clinginess. There’s also
slurring in his voice that I don’t pay attention to because it’s deep,
and a baritone always gets me going. The pleasantries are out of the way
very quickly and we know a bit about each other. Before long, we’re
discussing what kinds of sexual acts we like to do, and then we focus on
each other and what we’d do to one another.
The entire time this is happening I try and throw in questions where
he’ll have to give me a detailed answer but he somehow doesn’t hear them
and proceeds to tell me what an inspiration I am with a slur behind a
few syllables. I notice how frequently the slur happens. A lull in the
conversation comes when he admits that he’s not a man’s man. He also
keeps asking me if random points he’s made are fair, like we’re having
an argument over the remote and he needs Jerry Springer to tell me that
he knows the buttons better than I do.
“Really?” I say, not shocked at all given the way he’s been telling me that I’m good looking for the past 45 minutes.
“Yeah. I’m not a mankind of guy. I don’t attract them very much. I want to listen to you more. Is that fair?”
I don’t understand the question but I plow on before I idly remember
that I really should be turning in for the night because I have an
important meeting to get to in the morning.
“That’s a definite shame. I hate to be a prude, but, I have a meeting
I have to get to in the morning and I need my sleep.” The reply slams
into my ear with quick bursts of syllables, as if he’s dying and my
voice is a resuscitator.
“Listen, babe… I know you don’t like me, and I get it, no one does,
but please baby, I want to talk some more. I think you’re hot! Just stay
and talk. I want to talk. Is that fair?”
“It’s not you. I don’t think you understand that I have a meeting in
the morning that I can’t sleep through.” There’s a heavy sigh on the
other end, followed by the unmistakable swigging of a bottle. I then
realize that he’s been drunk this entire conversation. I make even
louder noises about having to go, but the crying reply makes me stop and
“Please… baby, I’m an alcoholic, I get it, but I think that we
deserve to talk things over, is that fair? Is that fair? I mean, we’ve
both been alone so…” there’s another swig. “We need to cuddle with one
“You know what? I agree!” I gaily squeal, and begin doing a Google
search on my computer. The slur is emphasized as he asks me where I
live. I tell him the address to Alcoholics Anonymous in Chicago, and I
give him their number instead of mine – he’s forgotten mine already.
“Please call me tomorrow baby. I love you.” I say, hanging up the
phone knowing that I will never hear from this diplomat again. Given the
last hour, I’d say that’s pretty fair.
Read more from Robert Kingett!
GAY DATING with Guest Author Robert Kingett
Our new guest author Robert Kingett was featured on Digital Journal this week, talking about how he hopes his reporting will educate and inspire.
have is that blind people sit in a corner and suck their thumb.”
Kingett, 24, says he is devoted to combatting that stereotype by being
an active reporter, studying journalism and writing articles on
DigitalJournal.com on accessibility issues.
Whatever doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger. That could be the motto for Kingett, a Chicago writer and LGBT activist who is no stranger to adversity.
My fingers hover over the keyboard, spread as if they are spiders who are confused on how to make a web.
resting at the forefront of my dating regime, at a desk in my apartment
trying to think of something about me that the members of this gay
dating site need to know. Ironically this part of the initiation is the
signup was easy for my adaptive computer technology that robotically
tells me everyone’s messages, height, and weight. There weren’t any
words I had to type to verify my identity, there weren’t any
advertisements sprinkled into a profile detailing a guy who likes to
pretend to fly with toy airplanes. Everything is smooth like melted
butter until this part in the acquaintance, the about me.
thought process seems to have a planned detour; as if my brain schemed
how it was going to depart at the exact moment I need it to work its
magic. First, dictation, then there’s deliberation, then debating, then
dumbstruck diatribe. My fingers don’t move but deductions springs into
my mind like a sweptback gymnast.
will marvel at my eloquence for words upon first glance so this will
whisk me up to an 80% on the attraction slider. When they talk with me
verbally however, I’m sure the stammer will jab me down to 45%.
people read that I have a white cane my dating chances will shoot down
to 30%. I know this figure based on experience. To boost my score
perhaps I should entice them first with facts about my journalism work
where I detail LGBT news and issues, and couple that with my obsessive
love for mint chocolate chip ice cream and pony rides. If I do that my
percentage will shoot up to 45% because everybody loves chocolate ice
cream way before mint.
Read more at Roberts blog!
GUEST AUTHOR – ROBERT KINGETT
For those who don’t know me, and that would be a lot of you, I’m a
bibliophile. My vast array of bookshelves is stacked with dozens of
audio books, causing the shelf to topple over like a lopsided tower. I
love books, and I love the character developments, the plots, and
thriving stories hat books can hold between the spines. I’ve read some
amazing books, and then again I’ve read some books that I’ve never want
to speak of again because it leaves a bad ringing in my ears.
never usually get into erotica books, but with the eloquent urging of
all my hip unliterary friends I decided that I’d read fifty Shades of
Grey by E.L. James. I want to see just why this book is so very popular.
I get recommendations from people all the time on Goodreads, so why is
this book so popular? Is it the dashing romance, the zesty sex scenes,
or the riveting character depth? I don’t know.
Usually when I look
at a book, I look at the synopsis of the book to try and gage what I’ll
be in store for. I wonder what the back of this book says.
literature student Anastasia Steele goes to interview young
entrepreneur Christian Grey, she encounters a man who is beautiful,
brilliant, and intimidating.
Is it just me but after
twilight by Stephenie Meyer came out all the men seem to have the same
abusive controlling elements as Edward? I don’t know. This does sound
interesting though. Nothing about gay black men or even straight black
men for that matter. I’m sad now… I need Morgan freeman to hold me and
give me God powers. I need to have Denzel Washington wrap me up in a
nice bear hug and have his sexy new Yorkers voice put me to sleep with
him reading my Miranda rights…
“You have a right to have sex wit
me. Anyting you say will get me hard and then I’ll have to arrest you
with my passion… anyway… Let’s keep reading!
Do you ever stop and think about those who are less fortunate than us? Those who have a harder life than us? Those who may face challenges? Do you ever give gratitude and thanks for the life you are living?