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STORY: Without a doubt, New York City is a veritable cornucopia of hot men. However, sanity and stability are for sure not qualities that the gays possess in their early 20s, regardless of how successful they seem. Take, for instance, one of my most recent encounters upon moving to NYC in 2010. His name for the purposes of this story is “Mr. Hi.”

It was a very stereotypical gay meeting from Grindr. His name is Christopher. He’s 25, works for NBC as a producer, and is super hot, tall, dark, successful, blah, blah, blah…you know the type. We have drinks after a week of flirting shamelessly on our phones and it seems as though the in-real-life conversation is going very well! Success! Maybe I picked a good one!

After we left the bar, we said goodbye and continued to talk over the next few days… texting back and forth, trying to coordinate another day to see each other. Giddy with excitement that I might have possibly found another gay unicorn, like me, who has some semblance of sanity, I invited him over to my apartment so I could make him a fancy dinner. For any of you New Yorkers out there, inviting someone back to your approximately three square feet of personal space is a big deal. This is also my black widow technique that no one can escape—if you are eating my food for a date you are most certainly staying for dessert in more ways than one.

I make a fabulous dinner, and we start getting hot and heavy since that was the whole plan in the first place. I’m a respectable gay man, but a gay man, nonetheless. This is where it all went downhill. Shirts are flying off, pants are being thrown to the floor, and the kissing gets much more intense. And just when I thought I was about to possibly let this man see my Britney, he goes and whispers “hi!”—a “Forgetting Sarah Marshall” style “hi!” For those of you that have not seen the movie, an early sequence of the movie shows the protagonist having sex with a succession of girls, one of whom says “hi!” the entire time they have sex. Since this super hot guy is a producer, and because “Forgetting Sarah Marshall” was a popular movie at the time, I thought he might have been trying to make an ill-timed joke.

Boy was I wrong…

So, I let it go at first, but he continued to say it over and over. Maybe he’s saying “ay” like “ay Papi” I thought. (Still pretty weird for a white dude, but a little more normal, I guess).

After about time #26 of him whispering “hi!” to me, as though it was proper bedroom talk, I finally said “WHAT THE F$^% ARE YOU SAYING?!”

Total and complete boner killer.

Needless to say, my yelling at him killed his boner too. Whoops! —cue Pink’s “You and Your Hand Tonight” for both of us.

Maybe “Mr. Hi” will find “Mr. Hello Back,” but it most certainly isn’t me.

Sometimes living an awesome life doesn’t feel so epic, especially during moments like this. But, then you remember that you shouldn't say “hi!” to people when you are already naked.


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