Queer Bait and Dogs Are Annoying

Dear Jen,
I'm a college freshman who's just stepped out of a four year relationship with a woman. My problem is, now that I'm looking to hook up with a new woman, the only mischievous smiles I get are from guys. I work in a hotel restaurant, and several of my gay male customers return just to talk to me. I'm a slightly effeminate man, but this just seems to have disaster written all over it. I feel like a pink panther searching for a female panther. How do I deal with this difference in the game of sexual appeal?
- Mr. Pink

Dear Pink,
Wait...what?  What has disaster written all over it?  The fact that other men are flirting with you, or the fact that you're intrigued/bothered by the fact that other men are flirting with you?  Because as far as I'm concerned, there's never anything disastrous about being flirted with.  I don't care what lurks within their pants - flattery is flattery.  Take it where you can get it.

For example, a few years ago I was camping in the mountains near Cloudcroft, New Mexico and it started snowing.  Camping + Snow + I'm freezing as I write this and it's 70 degrees out = disaster written all over it.  So my friend and I decided to drive into town and cozy up at a bar.  It was Saturday night and we found this great country dive that was packed.  We could hear the band from the parking lot and they were rockin, hard, so hard that I nearly fell over when I got inside and discovered that no one in the band was under 90 years old.  The bass player was in a wheelchair, the drummer had Parkinsons so badly that his head was bobbing to a different rhythm than the music, the fiddle player was clearly blind and the lead singer was hanging on to his walker with a death grip.  They all wore cowboy hats and had one tooth among them.  But they were s-m-o-k-i-n'.

At the break, the lead singer wheeled up to me and began regaling me with tales of his rock star past.  In true, narcissistic superstar fashion, he didn't give a hoot about my story.  It was all about him, for he was the star.  And we both knew it.  He was the godamned lead singer.  And who was he flirting with?  Who was he checking out through bifocals as thick as a glass of Metamucil?  That's right.  That would be me.  

Methinks that the only reason you'd be nervous about these guys at work flirting with you is because you're nervous about what you're going to do about it.  I knew I wasn't going to give gramps a groupie hummer, so I could just enjoy the moment.  But were I someone, say, like Anna Nicole Smith, I might have lost my cool. Whatever the situation, you can't be effected by something you truly don't care about.  It's impossible.

If you are indeed interested, the only disaster would be not acting on it.  Life is far too short to not do something because you're ascared.  If you're not interested, and just chose to use the word "disaster" without really thinking about it and now I'm crawling all over you for no good reason, take the compliment and move on.  The fact that boys are flirting with you doesn't mean the ladies won't.  It means you're hot.  Enjoy it.

Dear Jen,
I'm a divorced woman who seems to finally be getting somewhere with a woman who happens to be my veterinarian.  She's been flirting with me, in front of the techs out at the front desk, for close to one year now, but refuses to take it any further. 

I decided to try and talk with her and find out what's going on, and when I did, she seemed to panic and then told me she's in the middle of a divorce.  I told her I was divorced too and knew where she was coming from.  Then she said she didn't really have time for something like this for a few months, and I said that was fine.  At that point she seemed to not only be relieved, but extremely happy, and said we could go out and have a social night, then changed it to having me over for dinner instead.  Would you be confused?  I think she's the nicest person and would really like to get to know her better, but wish I knew which direction she was going.  Any ideas?
- In Or Out?

Dear Or,
The next person who spews forth every last itty bitty detail of whatever their issue is (as this letter did before I edited it down) will receive my entire collection of inane, windbaggy letters so they can see just how mind-numbing they are.  Seriously people - I understand that you want to be clear, and that you're reaching out for help, but I'm gonna go ahead here and reach out for a little help myself. Please read your letters over, just once, before you send them in.  Understand that details like -  "she at one time blurted out to me what her age was in the exam room, which was 5 years older than myself, and she doesn't know how old I am, and up to now hasn't asked"- are not relevant.  Or funny.  And they most certainly do not illustrate good storytelling techniques.* Help me help you, won't you? 

I know, who peed in my Wheaties this morning, right?  Could I be any bitchier?  Sorry, to be honest, it's not just that this type of thing drives me nuts, but I'm writing this from a friend's house who had to skip out for a few hours and left me here with her hyper dog and his two barky/jumpy/slobbery play date doggy pals.  I am a lot of things, one of which most definitely is not a dog lover.  The only dogs I like are the ones who kind of ignore you, or that are one smelly dog breath away from death and can barely move, bark or lick and need to be carried around to pee.  Those ones that have to push themselves around on a skate board for a lack of hind legs would work for me too.  But instead I'm sitting here with Mo, Larry and Curly, and for the past hour I've been battling crotch-seeking noses, ear-splitting barks, tongues, farts, balls, tails, leaps and bounds on my head and computer...people voluntarily take these animals in and give them homes!  In their houses!  On purpose!  It is flabbergasting.  Truly.

Anyway, here's what you need to do.  Give this woman the time she asked for.  She's in the middle of a divorce fer fek's sake - that is large, Marge.  Go slowly, get to know her and stop worrying about where she's at because it sounds like she has no idea either.  You'd be much better off focusing on how fabulous (albeit windbaggy) you are, so when the time comes to make your move, you'll feel so sexy and confident that it won't even matter what she does.  She's either going to be into you or not, so all your fretting and detail evaluation won't change a thing.  Your time would be much better spent enjoying the moment, going with the flow and seeing what happens when it happens.  Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go find some duct tape....

*Windbaggy letters that make me laugh or teach me something interesting are exempt from my hostility.