He's Just Not That Into Jew

In the interest of service journalism, I am going to start issuing some rules. (Also, I'm doing away with the royal "we," until I can find someone to write this site with me. Don't question my reasons! It only will bring us closer.)

So you can periodically expect some issues from the FAGAT on high.

Today's Rule: NEVER GO TO A GAY PLACE ON YOUR FIRST DATE

I had a lovely date two weeks ago with a perfectly tall, handsome-enough, non-freak guy. We ate at a Chelsea restaurant, where he had slept with and/or dated a handful of the waiters. Once came up to stare at me so many times, that when asked if there was a problem, he said: "Oh, no, I was just thinking you'd make a really beautiful drag queen."

Then, we went to a popular gay night at a big bar, where we both knew a lot of people. From a relatively intimate evening, it turned into a smorgasboard of cruising, air kissing, and drink tickets. My date ran into more ex-boyfriends. In the bathroom, I was accosted by a friend who spotted us together and tried to stage a dramatic, coke-fueled intervention. "He is bad NEWS!" our friend cried. We shook him off, unnerved, and continued peeing.

Then, the death knell sounded: I ran into someone cuter, younger, and more charming, who asked me out.

This situation was not of my creating - I suggested neither the dinner location nor the visit to the gay party. My date had unwittingly crafted his own downfall. Had we been on our third date, and someone tried to pick me up, I probably would have ignored it.

So today's lesson is: Don't go to gay bars on a date, because sluts like me will ditch you in a hot second if something better comes along.

Also, if you can, it's best to be younger, cuter and more charming than everyone else.

But you already knew that.