On Rules

1. When you're dancing with a cute boy at The Gay '90s to Britney Spears' "...Baby One More Time", and you make awkward small talk and explain that you had this song on single when you could go to Best Buy and get CD's for 99 cents, and his response is an adorable "Yeah, I was seven when this came out", that's when you need to step away.

Here's the thing: I barely know this kid. He is not going to be a good friend of mine. But now we are Facebook friends, and because I am constantly obsessed with other peoples' lives, especially the Minneapolis gays and what I have perceived to be the Minneapolis gAy-list, some imaginary social echelon that I have decided I will never be part of and can't even decide if I want to be or not, I cannot turn away from the whole thing, but I refuse to be one of those gross gay dudes all up on his wall like "youre so cuuuuttttttee" and "call meeeeeeeeeeeee" ...

Also, if you describe yourself as a "down to earth hot gay guy", well, I won't dispute you're gay. But if you are truly down to earth, you do not know you are down to earth. If you are truly hot, you do not need to describe yourself as hot. That's like me telling people that I'm pale. Like, no, really?

Why do I care? I need to not. This is me not caring. I think.

P.S. Cute 19-year-old: I mean, I know you have a boyfriend and everyting and there's like 5,000 other twentysomething gay dudes all up on your grill, but um, if you want to come over and, like watch, Step Up, let me know. But give me a date so I can make sure my parents aren't home and maybe I can convince you that it's my house.