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By Darcy Dates, May 9, 2011 6:00 am

Image by Mike "Dakinewavamon" Kline via Flickr

Once upon a time, I walked into a bar on the Upper West Side to meet one of my J-day-tay dates (or what you might know as JDate). I was looking forward to meeting this very tall, very handsome stranger. He was from Kentucky, and Jewish. Over the phone, he had a southern twang of some kind. Or so I thought. More on that twang later.

As I made my way through the bar, I saw him sitting at a table that was placed awkwardly close to another table, with two women sitting at it.

These two girls are going to love listening to our first date unfold, I thought as I approached.

But, he was handsome. Five-star handsome. He looked just like his pictures, which is not always common. We were off to a good start.

“Hi! Andy? Darcy.” I extended my hand.

“Well hello Darcy!,” he said as he pulled me in for a hug.

Ho. Ly.

He was the gayest man I’ve ever met.

Well, maybe not as gay as the date who took me to the Indigo Girls concert and held my hand and wanted to skip.

I turned green. That twang wasn’t just southern, it was downright RuPaul.

I glanced at the two girls at the next table, and they glanced back at me. There was something in their look, an awkward disbelief, that I knew I was not alone in thinking this.

I dreaded sitting down and cursed myself for having to play along with his charade. As I always say, I love a gay man. But, if you want to play for my team, you have to wear my uniform. And my uniform doesn’t involve a beard of any kind. Continue reading 'My Hot Date Didn’t Look So Good Upon Further Inspection'»

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By Jasmine Curry, December 20, 2010 6:00 am

Image design by romibello

I remember when the holidays were a time of great excitement and anticipation. Getting the Toys “R” Us catalog and frantically circling all of the things I wanted. Eating all of my vegetables because I knew Santa was watching. Watching. Always. Somewhere. Somehow.

Oh, and that feeling of sheer joy, waking up at the ungodly hour of 5:45 in the morning, sneaking over to the tree and holding my breath in quiet anticipation, then diving headlong into the riches that were about to be unearthed!

Ah, for the days of yesteryear, when I loved the month of December.

Today?

Today, I say, “screw you holidays! Screw you and the bulbous-nosed reindeer you rode in on!”

No, I don’t want to get up at 4:00 in the morning the day after Thanksgiving, risking literal dismemberment to get that extra 30% off. No, I don’t want to buy that totally lame snowman sweater for my husband, just to watch him grimace at my fashion sense. And, no, I don’t want to experience the letdown of yet another holiday season that fails to live up to my totally unattainable expectations.

But, wait. Maybe I just need some music to get me in the mood. So I turn the radio to the Coast (our local easy-listening station) and start easy-listening to the Christmas music.

Does it help? No. It’s the same damned four songs over and over again. No, I don’t want to hear the Southern California Kris Kringle Society’s latest rendition of Carol of the Bells. I don’t care how many handbells or tinkerbells or cowbell they use.

I turn off the radio. Guess the music was a bad idea. Continue reading 'Screw You, Christmas Spirit!'»