i don't wear sports bras for your attention...

sometimes people say dumb things on dates

Okay messy story time!

Hubby went on a date a few weeks ago. (If you’re new here, we’re polyamorous.) The LA dating scene is like being dropped naked into a pit of lice. Which is to say, not great. And while that may sound harsh, literally in ten years of living here, I’ve never heard anyone say a single positive thing about the dating scene, no matter the sexual orientation.

My assessment is that culturally in Los Angeles, there’s more time spent on physical appearances than the quality of our souls. And when it comes to the gays, there’s nothing more dangerous than a gay man unaware of his privileges and the ways in which patriarchy has raised him. If he’s unaware of it, or thinks there’s nothing to unlearn because he’s from a marginalized group himself, then he perpetuates even more harm. At least with a straight man, you kinda expect toxicity and hope to be surprised if he’s not. Let’s just say, I’ve learned that there are more gay republicans in LA than you would suspect, honey.

But from time to time, stars align and you meet a gem of a human who hates lice as much as you do. I’ve been on enough bad dates, or had enough men show their man colors to be able to smell trouble before I’m in too deep. But also I was in an emotionally abusive relationship for two years, and so my spidey senses are immaculate. I can spot an abuser or toxic man from the way he walks. That’s not even hyperbole. If I get the chance to engage in conversation, for like five minutes, I can confirm. Also no hyperbole. You’ve seen those movies where someone’s trying to track a person and they need to keep the person on the call for a certain amount of time to get their location? I’m that in human form when it comes to abusers. And since I have that skill, I can track varying degrees of toxicity pretty easily. It’s for sure a trauma response—an effective one that makes me relatively good at dodging a proverbial bullet. Truthfully, most of my “bad dates” are harmless they’re just not good. Like they’re either someone who doesn’t talk, or talks too much, never asking any questions (which seems to be a common experience for those who date men.) Anyway, I digress!

Hubby went on a date recently that he was underwhelmed by but didn’t tell me why. I also don’t probe. When it comes to our polyamory one of our guardrails is, we don’t have to share unless it’s something that could impact our partnership or something we need support processing. So we talked about some other family things before putting on the final reunion episode of Beverly Hills Housewives (yes, we were behind!) A couple days later, Hubby came home, shortly after I had a fitting for my E! News gig recapping the Met Gala. The lewk I chose was hanging in our walk-in closet. When Hubby went to go change out of his work clothes, he saw my outfit and yelled out in excitement. I started telling him about how I like it because it gives the traditional form of a suit but subverts it with the flowers and shorts. I’m non-binary and when I dress in suits, it can be a process to find one that doesn’t make me feel like I’m dressed as a boy.

From chatting about the floral suit and non-binary fashion, we ended up on the interactions I have with some cis men—particularly a sector of cis gays— and the things I hear them say about non-binary folx when they don’t know that I am one. I was recounting one exchange in particular with a guy at my gym who hit me up on Grindr. Let’s call him Luke. Luke sent me a message saying, “I like your style”. My profile doesn’t have my face, but at my gym it’s not hard to figure out who the Black and POC torsos belong too. (That’s not a flex, it’s actually kinda sad, but that’s for a different post). I didn’t respond, because I’m rarely on the grid actually looking to meet anyone. I’m a window shopper, browsing the collection. But the next time we saw each other on the gym floor, Luke nodded at me and I smiled back. Maybe a week after that, I walked by Luke at the grocery store, Sprouts. I politely waved and we kept walking. The next time I saw him at the gym he walks up to me and says, “So many hot guys go to Sprouts. Sprouts is for the hot boys, and Trader Joe’s is for the they/thems.” One thing about me, I love to let people speak. I want people to tell me exactly who they are and how they think. Definitely part of that trauma response to assess my safety, and figure out if there’s any lying or foolery going on. Could also just be a Taurus thing. Either way I’ma always let a person gab. Luke made his little “joke”, smiled, and I said, “Hmm.” Then I gently touched my necklace that says, “They” watched his gaze follow my hand to my neck, saw him clock his misstep and then walked away. I told Matthew the story and he said he experienced a similar energy on his underwhelming date, but wasn’t sure if he should share. I was in a very secure headspace, and incredibly curious, so I told him to spill.

Apparently on his date (let’s call the person Justin) they also started talking about non-binary people. Justin declared, “I just don’t get it. Why do they dress like that?” Matthew, a therapist, also likes to listen. He let Justin keep talking. Justin goes onto share that at his gym, “there’s a tall Black man who wears sports bras all the time, and I don’t get it! It’s too much. It’s like he wants attention.”

Well, I’m sure you already know where this is going, but I’ll still tell you. The gym Justin goes to, is my gym. And while I wish more men and male bodied folx wore sports bras there, it’s just me, babe. So Matthew said to him, “I think you’re talking about my partner.”