SHAKING OFF THE FLAKES

It’s getting cold out there and apparently the forecast calls for flakes.

A good friend of mine in Vancouver asserts that gay men are flaky. I’d love to refute the claim, but it’s challenging, at least with regard to single gay men. He says it’s universal and retells a story of being in Prague and hearing a gay man on a rant about wanting to move from Transylvania. “Why?” his café companion asked.

“The gay men there. They’re all flakes.”

Gay friends in L.A. say the same thing. (Okay, some of my L.A. friends don’t say it; instead, they show clear signs of flakiness.) Same with my friend in Boise and a fellow my cousin connected me with in Ottawa.

If it’s not universal, it seems to be common enough.

Or maybe the reality is that single gay men become increasingly bitter and fail to recognize their own contribution to being chronically single, deflecting any accountability with a convenient everyone else is flaky shrug.

As for myself, I think I do a commendable job of pointing out my flaws. There are plenty of reasons for men to reject me. Even so, it does get bewildering how so many promising starts fizzle so fast. (Last weekend’s disappearing act by the guy in Seattle is the latest case in point.) The Flaky Hypothesis does seem to have some merit.

And I have to admit that it is somewhat satisfying—even vindicating—when a flake resurfaces, suddenly expressing renewed interest. In the past week, a couple of them have made their presence known. Both are guys with whom I had decent first dates. I expressed interest in another date with each of them. One shot me down—something along the “no chemistry” (aka no attraction) line of thought. The other sent me some flattering texts before he became a lovely but doomed assistant for a Houdini wannabe—vanished and never reappeared.

Michael started viewing my profile multiple times on Plenty of Fish and OkCupid. He upped his passive expression of interest on one site by starring my profile, which officially means “He Likes You.” On the other site, he clicked a “Yes” button for “Wants to Meet You.” I knew this meant one of two things: (A) I was so utterly forgettable that he fails to recall our first date from a few years ago; or (B) The fool has reconsidered after seeing a shirtless shot on my profile. When I failed to Like him back, he viewed my profile several more times before finally sending a message.

Turns out he does remember me…and my dogs..and my career…and where I live. So he doesn’t have a flaky memory. But to tell me he wasn’t interested and now change his mind? Forget it. Apparently I carry a grudge. Call it self-preservation. Call it dignity. I’ve sworn I don’t need to convince someone I’m worth it.

The second guy has been less assertive. He has just tried to Friend me on Facebook. This is a guy who was very sexy, very charming before and during our date a couple of years ago. I clearly remember the long, warm bear hug from when we said goodbye. I thought for sure there was a mutual attraction. He confirmed as much, texting about how kind, intelligent and sexy I was. And then absolutely nothing. A big tease? Maybe. A flake? Certainly. It’s easy for me to ignore Friend requests. I keep my Facebook group to family and friends with whom I go way back.

It seems I’ve weathered the flakes just fine. Now bring on the real winter weather. I’ve got my new ski outfit and I’m anxious to look forward instead of backward.