TheTwilightZoneLogoDateline: The Twilight Zone

There is a fifth dimension, beyond that which is known to man. It is a dimension as vast as space and as timeless as infinity. It is the middle ground between light and shadow, between science and superstition, and it lies between the pit of man’s fears and the summit of his knowledge. This is the dimension of imagination. It is an area which we call… the Twilight Zone.

— Rod Serling, creator of The Twilight Zone

“Normal” rules don’t apply here. Whatever you think will happen is the least likely outcome. People and places are not what they seem. Mexico is truly part of The Twilight Zone. And indeed, that’s a big part of its charm: sheer unpredictability set to a Mariachi beat, where death has its own special day, and daily life is full of twists, turns, and the least likely thing being what’s going to happen today.

Take gay dating. It’s completely different than in Boston. First of all, it actually happens here, unlike in Boston where it seems to be a near-impossibility, at least if you’re a middle-aged white guy like me. The last time I was single in Boston and made any real effort to date was in the latter half of 2005, when I was a sprightly mid-40-something. Though I was working a full-time job, I had a second full-time job trying to round up dates. I was on Yahoo personals. I trolled Craigslist, I hung out in bars, and I even tried a few other services. No one could fault me for lack of effort. No siree. But it all came to somewhere between naught and very little.

Now, you’ll have to take my word for this since I’m not going to post a photo here, but I’m a decent-looking guy, 6’0” 175#, slim, good skin, few wrinkles and no sags, virtually all of my hair, and you can eat dinner with me without being grossed out by my lack of table manners. I can also more than hold up my end of virtually any conversation, and many folks even think I’m witty. I’m well-read, sympathetic, and I’ll be nice to you even if you’re not nice to me. So I’m not exactly a completely ineligible bachelor. And I had a more-than-decent job, my own house, and a snazzy convertible to take you to the beach in. Oh, but I’m not pretentious either, though I do enjoy a good life. And I’m a fabulous cook, can fix your car, or anything else that might break down around the house.

But all of that counted for shockingly little, and resulted in a handful of dates with guys that had a lot less going for them than I did, to put it politely. Fortunately I met F here in DF in early 2006, and spent the next seven years with him, mostly very happy years. But alas, that ended in August 2013, and I’ve been single since, and mostly OK with that. Though I never really made much effort to date in Boston since then, I did go out with friends to clubs from time to time, and did things where I’d meet new people. (And I made some wonderful friends in the process.)

I also put myself into other places where I might meet another guy (gay pride march, Provincetown in the summer, etc.). But the vibe was overwhelming disinterest. At least from the ones I was interested in. And since I was now ten years older in a town of “younger-for-younger,” “older-for-younger,” “dad-seeks-son,” “no-one-over-40,” etc., I simply gave up on the idea of dating. And various friends of younger vintage (early to mid-40’s) shared similar tales of frustration, confirming my view that this was a Sisyphean task at best, and likely a total waste of time.

But wherever I went in Mexico, I found a much warmer reception from other gay guys. Even the ones who weren’t really “interested” were at least friendly and would chat and maybe even flirt. And plenty were indeed “interested” and would flirt shamelessly or more. And these guys were beyond “ok-looking,” many of them were really quite handsome. Most surprising of all? Most of them are much younger than me, yet virtually all of them seem completely unfazed by the fact that I’m over 50, and on my way to “well over 50.” In fact, it seems to be a positive in their book. Woo hoo! At least I’ve got some choices, right?

So yes, the prospect of finding El Señor “Right” is and remains part of my motivation for coming here. And of course if you haven’t grasped it by now, yes, I have a “thing” for Latino guys. So I could hardly have come to a worse place, right? As I referenced in my post “Oscar Wilde in Mexico City,” I met two eligible bachelors right off the bat, Roberto and Emilio, and suddenly life seemed full of dating promise.

So what happened since? Oh, nothing much really, hahaha. I just got sucked into the Twilight Zone. Buckle up; you’re about to learn more than you ever knew about gay dating in Mexico City, where the rubber meets the road of the unexpected. In subsequent posts I’ll write about a few guys I’ve met, and what happened. But as a kind of spoiler, let’s just say that I don’t yet have a BF (or any particularly obvious prospect), though I’m certainly not lacking for blog material.

By the way, since I have a sort of “mainstream” or at least not mainly gay readership, I’m trying to figure out just how much detail is appropriate for this blog. So if you can answer the poll below, I’d be delighted. By the way, I’m not going to go “full graphic” in any case since my mother reads my blog too.

Saludos y gracias desde la Ciudad de Mexico!

P.S. I have no idea who’s voting for what; your poll results are anonymous.

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