Mother, I'm A Homo-Flirt!

OK. So R. Kelly wrote the song "I'm A Flirt" him and women, but I personally like to think the song is my mantra when I'm dining out and a hot guy comes my way!

Whenever I'm out at a restaurant or any other place where someone has to wait upon my ass, shower me with oodles of kindness and affection. I absorb it. I love it!

Yesterday, Mother's Day, my family took dear ole mum out to dinner, like thousands of other Americans. Even though we had reservations, we had to wait because the restaurant was so full. Mind you, my family is not a patient group. The complaining was outrageous! Once we were seated though, things got better. Just. Then our waiter came over and made the whole experience worth the waiting, bitching, griping, and complaining. Our waiter, Gabe!

OMG! No description I could give would give this hot Latino Papi justice! He had just about all those stunning qualities I like in a man. Nice smile, gentle masculine voice, beautiful eyes, decent Afrocentric-Latinesque hairstyle, neatly groomed facial (both mustache &goatee), and an ass you could bounce a roll of quarters on. DAAAAYUM! He was too phiiine!

I had difficulty restraining myself the whole even. Each time he came to my side of the table, I was an adolescent all over again, goofy, awkward, and all googly eyed. If my family didn't pick up on the homo-vibe then, they never will. He was kind and nice. My friends know I thoroughly enjoy decent service when I dine out. (Perhaps I get off on the whole subservience thing? But, hey! Wait on me properly, I tip very handsomely!)

At the end of the meal, I was sad to go. Since I'm still not out to the family, I dare not ask for any personal information. At least I was able to capture a photo of him on my cellphone. Unfortunately, my dad's in the picture too, or else I'd post the picture here.

I can't say I was too subtle during dinner. It might initiate future conversations. Perhaps. I seriously don't feel like opening the conversation. I know. It's bull and cowardice, but you don't know my family. Once the conversation occurs, I need to be steadfast and able to deal with the backlash. Shit will come down the Pike. Right now, I'm relying on my family heavily because I can't entirely support myself being on disability. My friends are all in financial woes too, so asking them for help only can go so far.

Don't worry. The topic will be broached soon enough. After dinner, everyone came back to my house and we had dessert and coffee. I purposely did not put away any questionable materials like my copies of the Advocate or Clik Magazine. Nor did I hide my books by E. Lynn, Rodney, Jerome, Bob Smith, David Sedaris, Thomas Michael Ford, or any other gay authors. They only needed to go upstairs in the bedroom, what would've raised an eyebrow, with my (tasteful) nude male art on the walls.

Ah, someday. I did have one moment of remorse and guilt though when the after dinner topics started on children. My ex-wife and I never had children and at this point, I think that opportunity has knocked on someone else's door. There's still a chance I s'pose. I'm only 38. Course all my friends with kids say I'm crazy. Hester and Raymundo (the Husband formerly known as Bruce) say there's no way they could start having kids now. E.J., Leoben, Tamodi, and Brother Soul-man all concur.

So what's a middle-aged same gender lovin' homo to do? Aw, let's not let this deflate the wind from my sails. I can honestly report Gabe was kind enough to give the impression he was flirting right back. I don't want to be delusional though. Since I didn't have any of my queer posse or Girl Fridays with me, I can't be 100% positive. If he was flirting back, good. The notion definitely picks up my self esteem, which has been in the toilet for some time now.

Only one thing to do, then. Schedule a dinner date with the fags and the hags, and head on back to the Trattoria....