For those out there that don't utilize that site, your profile is basically a collection of the most generic questions possible to describe yourself to a prospective date. These questions include: What Am I Doing With My Life (Seriously? This question sounds like it comes from a disappointed parent.), I’m Really Good At (If you have some spare time, you should read people's responses, they are hilarious!), and the list goes on from there. Having no recent luck with the site and on-set of spring-like weather, I had a crazy idea. I decided to make my profile into bit of a joke.

 The First Thing People Usually Notice About Me…

 ....My charming personality or maybe my hunchback, it's a tossup.

To be honest, I am not exactly sure why I wrote it, but I couldn’t stop laughing. So, I took the ball and ran with it.

The Most Private Thing I'm Willing to Admit…

 ...I was lying about my hunchback, or was ?.

 and my personal favorite,

You Should Message Me

....If you like Quasimodo.

I find that there are very, very few people who enjoy my comedy. I don't know, maybe it wasn't all that funny. But because it still made me giggle, I decided to keep it. Finally, my ridiculous sense of humor paid off…

      "You had me laugh out loud at your hunchback descriptor (which I hope you have - hot!) and I thought I'd drop by and say hi."

Immediately, I checked out his profile. He is my age, blonde hair, blue eyes, South African, very handsome and most importantly, he liked my joke. OkCupid gave us only a 53% match, what do they know!

We exchanged a few emails and set up a first date.                           

When I first laid eyes on him, I was floored at how good looking he was. Then he spoke. Did I tell you that I had a thing for good looking guys with accents? Then after the novelty of his accent wore away, I actually heard what he was saying and I couldn't stop laughing. I was out for the count because his sense of humor parallels my own.

After about an hour or so of chatting, he looks at me with his piercing blue eyes and asked "Do you want to go dancing?"

"Umm…ok" He could've asked me if I wanted to go on a sightseeing tour of Baghdad and I would have blindly followed.

And danced we did. We danced and danced and danced. We only stopped to change our location. Then it happened. He kissed me right on the dance floor. He did it again. Oh my god, it's happening and I can't stop it! I am becoming one of those people. Yes, the ones who make out on the dance floor. Usually when this happens I am slightly embarrassed or when I was younger I was too drunk to even notice anyone else. But with him there was something so sweet about it - I had to partake.

We left the bar and stopped at a local diner. The conversation and the laughter were still flowing. Then as we settled our bill and made our way back outside, he kissed me again and asked, "Do you want to come back to my place?"

I said no.

Wait, what? It's true. Even I can be virtuous. He is the first guy in quite some time to not only make my stomach flip but make it do a front-handspring-step-out, round-off-back-handspring-step-out, round-off back-handspring-full-twisting-layout kind of flip. I didn't want our relationship to merely be sexual. So yes, I said no.

Me and my hunchback are still walking up in the clouds.

I am not always the good guy. I am not always the guy who, because of being HIV-positive, looses out in love. Sometimes, just sometimes, I find myself in the role of the bad guy.  And when that happens, I don't know why but I truly commit to that role.

Let me explain.

The tall guy, David, did indeed ask me on a date. It was your typical date: coffee and a movie. He was very sweet, smart and yes, very tall.  After the date, David did the gentlemanly thing to do, and walked me home. Before you ask, I did not invite him up to my apartment, but he did have to lean far down to give me a good night kiss.

Throughout the next few weeks we had a couple more dates. You should know that I truly liked him, I did. I do. But unfortunately I did not feel anything more for him than friendship. One thing that is almost as hard to do as informing someone of your HIV status is telling someone that you sincerely like that you just aren’t into them. What made my situation worse was that I could see that David was falling hard for me.

So I did what any cowardly bad guy would do in this situation. I said, “I need to tell you that I am HIV positive.”

You see I did not tell David this because I wanted to do a bit of the ole in ‘n’ out. No, I told him this in hopes he would respond with something negative, like: “I’m sorry for you, but I can’t date anyone who’s positive.” Because if he did, I wouldn’t have to step up and tell him that I didn’t like him, like him. Yes, I am talking like a fifth grader, because my actions are clearly representative of the mentality of one.

Alas, he responded with, “Thank you for your honesty…What you just told me does not change my interest on my end…I still think you are endearing and adorable and I can’t wait to kiss you again…In this crazy world it is hard to find genuine sincerely good people…you are one of them.”

I would like to hang my head in shame now.

He went on to describe that HIV was not a problem for him and how he spent time in Africa with kids, a lot of whom were born with HIV.

Just so you know, my head is still hanging in shame.

Since my plan did not work as I’d intended and since I was playing the role of the bad guy to my fullest potential, there was nothing else to do than to continue along the same path. After yet another date where I couldn’t express to him that I had no intent to continue seeing him romantically, I thought that the best possible course of action was to create a little distance. So I stopped all communications. What is wrong with me? (That is a rhetorical question, please do not answer!)

He eventually reached out to me and we are now becoming friends and every time we hang out I feel a twinge of shame.

This is just a little story to illustrate that I am not always the one who gets crushed. As shameful as it is, I am not always the good guy.

Ever notice how most New Yorkers (and yes, I consider myself one even though I have only been a resident in this great city for less than two years), do their best to avoid Times Square? If we must be in the area, we concoct a plan to stay far away from the roaming masses of tourists, even if it means we take the most circuitous route to our destination. This avoidance of Times Square becomes even more evident on December 31st.  Last year I even fled the country to be far, far away from the ball and its infamous dropping.

This year I was invited to a party on the fourth floor of an office building overlooking the center of Times Square. Initially, my instinct was to politely decline the invitation and  keep clear of the  crowds. But alas, Brian (one of my best friends) was coming up from Philly for the weekend and once I mentioned the party, it became the one thing he wanted to do. Being the good friend that I am, I acquiesced and we prepared to descend upon the eye of the storm.

On New Year's Eve, Brian, Brice and our mutual friend Jake, met up at my place. We pre-gamed with some cocktails, Chinese food and, of course, some gossip. Then we all hopped the R train to take us to Times Square. We were smart and got off the train five blocks away. Even at that distance, the streets were incredibly packed and the policeman on horseback guiding the people was akin to cattle being herded. Albeit, well dressed cattle, but cattle nonetheless!

When we got to our street, we were frisked, fondled and finally we were let past the barricade. We found the entrance to the building and stood in yet another line to get our IDs checked and made sure we were on a list. To say security was tight, would be a bit of a understatement.

Eventually, we all passed inspection and made our way up to the party. There we were greeted by two girls, both very pretty and both very blonde. I am sure they were both smart but the one had such a cartoonishly high voice that it was hard for me to take anything she said seriously. Apparently the two girls were co-hosting this party with our friend. Upon introduction to all the other guests, it was hard not to miss that, beside the two very blonde girls, it was a room full of gay men. While there were a couple of attractive men there, I decided it would be best to keep my distance as it was only a couple of weeks ago that Brice told me that he had feelings for me and I thought that seeing me flirt would be a little too cruel. I was determined just to have fun with my friends, eat some junk food, get a little tipsy, and try not to be so obvious when that girl's voice made me giggle.

The party was very chill. Not too many people but it was the location that was unbelievable! We were on the fourth floor looking down on all that madness. An entire office wall made of huge windows faced Times Square. And there was a stage right in front of us but unfortunately it was not the stage with all the musical guests. We did get to see all the news casters and best of all, we had an incredible view of the ball drop! It is funny that ever since I was a kid I dreamed to be a part of this crowd, but as I aged I deemed that I would never even try and now I find myself finally here.

As midnight approached, Brice was getting more and more intoxicated. I have noticed it becoming  harder and harder to ward off a hangover, so I tend to be wary about how much I drink. After the ball dropped and we had our celebratory toast, it was clear to us, the more sober people in the room, that it was time for Brice to go home. He was stumbling and slurring. Now, the slurring was a little more difficult to detect since he’s deaf and his pronunciation falters on good day. But Jake decided to take him home leaving Brian and I at the party.

We stayed for a couple more hours soaking in the atmosphere. Right before we decided to leave, Brian and I were talking to this extremely tall guy, John. Ironically, he also lived in Astoria. So we decided to try our luck at catching a cab. We figured this would prove to be a bad idea, but I had hope.

Within ten minutes of standing on the street corner we were able to hop into a cab that was just letting out some party-goers. Tall John and I started talking on our journey back to Queens, marveling at our luck in catching a cab.  Nothing too deep and  I didn't make too much of it. He is definitely attractive, smart, and yes, very tall, but I wasn't really in that sort of head space.

I paid as we got out of the cab and we all stood on the corner saying our goodbyes. I gave Tall John my information so we can friend each other on FaceBook.  The next day I got an email from him,

"Hey, It was really great to meet you last night. Can I take you out to a movie to repay you for that cab ride"

Wait, did he just ask me out on a date? Hmmmm. It is a New Year.  I guess it's about time for something new!!

It was a bust. Not the type of bust that gay men are oddly attracted to, but rather, my efforts to proclaim my affection for Philip.Unfortunately for me, that was not the only thing that was a bust.

First: Dinner. Philip was going to be a couple minutes late to dinner on his last night in town, so I made the regrettable decision to wait for him in one of the million Starbucks in New York.  When we finally sat down for dinner at one of my favorite places to go in Hell's Kitchen, which aptly was where we ate on our first date, I was having what can only be referred to as a caffeine fit. Anyone who knows me, knows that I am easily excitable (keep your minds out of the gutter!) and prone to wild gesticulations. When Starbuck's disastrously strong coffee was added to the mix along side being anxious about telling my feelings to Philip, I was in rare form.

Second: Show. I took him to see Lysitrata Jones, a new Broadway musical. (If you are in town check it out, it’s amazingly much fun!). And wouldn't you know it, only three rows behind us was one of my exes. Well, we can't really call him my ex. We never really dated. We only had sex a couple of times. Either way, I tried and I tried not to be noticed by him - thank God for winter coats with big collars. But alas, I was spotted on the way back from the much needed intermission pee break. I was forced into made small talk with What's-His-Name and we might have even talked about getting together again soon. Or maybe we didn't. Who can remember? As I took my seat in preparation for the second act, "Who was that?" Philip asked.  Now let's add "uncomfortable sighting" to my list of agitations.

Third: Bar. I took him to a local gay bar. I was hoping that some alcohol would help me: 1. calm my nerves and 2. assist me in my pursuit to put the moves on him. Sadly, let's just say the alcohol only helped to accomplished number 1. Because Philip had been packing for three days straight and my caffeine high had finally crashed, we found ourselves in a collective coma after our second drink. .

Fourth: The walk to the Subway. This was my last chance: Walking the four blocks, I psyched myself up and I was actually going to do it. Yes, I finally was going to… how do they say it? Oh. "Grow a set." We made it to his subway entrance surrounded by the grandeur of Times Square at Christmas. Philip came in for a hug and right before I was going to make the plunge and plant one on his lips, this fucking tourist ruined everything! This lady, who Philip and I probably had the honor of being the first 'gays' she ever saw, interrupted my move with a loud "Awwwwww….." And with that Philip started to laugh and we ended our embrace. I was completely deflated and there was no going back.

Fifth: The Passive-Aggressive Approach. The day after my last after my last blog entry was published, I received this:

"I read your blog today. It was good. Just know that I couldn't have gone down that road. Too much crazy life changes going on in my head. I think you are awesome, and I am so grateful that you were in my life this year. I desperately needed a neutral friend, and you helped get me through a lot of unresolved crap. The whole gym thing and hanging out. I needed all of those things. I don't want to make you feel awkward, but our friendship means a lot to me. More than that, I don't know if I would have ever let it work."

I completely understood and I hopefully now I can shelve those emotions and those 'What if' questions and finally move past my yoga crush.

Sixth: Are you Serious? I had set up two dates. Really REAL dates, not the ones acquired using a gentleman's socializing network. One on Thursday and the one on Saturday. I was incredibly proud of myself!  But to add insult to my emotional injury, both of them canceled. Seriously, BOTH OF THEM! Complete Bust!

I will not be discouraged. Nothing will stop me from finding my true Mr. Darcy [or insert any literary romantic hero here, because I am sure I will find him along the way too.].

Courage is something that did not come in my genetic make-up. Don’t get me wrong; when push comes to shove I can become quite protective and stand-up for myself. I did manage to defend myself when attacked by two pre-teen muggers – round-house kicks and all. I am still proud of that moment!

I am the type of person that still gets embarrassed walking in sex shops and I know it’s completely ridiculous but most times I even have my condoms delivered in a little brown box via Amazon.com. If you think that’s bad, I am worse when it comes to matters of the heart. Like any good machine in trouble, I power down. Much like the Cowardly Lion, I run away. And like the Cowardly Lion it wouldn't be out of the realm of possibilities if I did my big number as I was exiting stage left.

My yellow-bellied ways became rather evident last weekend after Brice and I attended Philip’s modern dance performance. We decided to get drinks at a bar in Hell’s Kitchen to congratulate Philip on an extremely impressive performance. After all of our congratulatory drinks were thrown back, we decided to go home early. Philip hopped on the subway to take him to Brooklyn and Brice and I shared a cab since we both live in Astoria.

About five minutes into the cab ride, Brice talked turned to me and said, “I would like to be more than just friends.”

I really like Brice and have an amazing time with him. I even sometimes look at him and think, “Well. Maybe...” But truthfully, no matter how I spin it, I just don’t have that spark - that fire in my belly - for him. I wish I did. But I don’t. So, instead of “manning up”, I just stared at my hands. Granted, I was a little intoxicated at that point, but all measly excuses aside, I really don’t think I would have been equipped with the right words if I wasn’t. My  response: “I just don’t know what to say.”

We sat in silence the rest of the way home.

The next day I sent Brice an email apologizing for my lack of verbiage. Later that day, he replied and thanked me and reassured me that we were good. Oddly enough, he was right. We are still good and I hope we will remain good.

While I was drafting that apology email I couldn’t help thinking about Brice’s chutzpah. It takes a lot of courage to tell a close friend that you have a crush on them because the outcome can go so many different ways. First, and the most desired, the friend feels the same way and you will end up living happily ever after. Secondly, the friend has no romantic feelings and there is weirdness and nothing can ever be the same. Thirdly, there are no romantic feelings but you both move on and your friendship is stronger than before (this is what I am hoping for me and Brice). So, yes I think it takes a lot of courage to risk everything.

Then all of a sudden it hit me. It hit me like a damn Acme anvil. All this time I have been a coward! I still like Philip. I have liked Philip since that time I  saw him in yoga a year ago. Ever since I cyber stalked him on Facebook. Ever since we had our first date and I kicked myself all the way home for not kissing him. Then of course, he went on tour and was gone for six months and when he finally came back we decided to be friends. Wait, let me back up, I decided to be friends. You see, he was trying to adjust back to New York after being stuck in Budapest for some time when his appendix burst (long story). He was also dealing with issues with an ex he wasn’t quite over yet, so I took the safe-route and suggested we just be friends.

And friends we became. Good friends. We worked out together four times a week. We hung out everyweekend. Sometimes we would even spend the entire day together. Not to psychoanalyze myself, but I wonder if because of my feelings for Philip, I wasn’t allowing myself to get invested into someone else. And now to add insult to injury, he is leaving in two days. Two days!

Philip is moving to Portland.

What to do? I have two courses of action. One, I maintain my cowardly ways and continue our friendship as is. Or, two, I could try to whisk him off his feet in some sort of romantic-comedy-way before he leaves. Still undecided in my course of action, I have planned a goodbye dinner the night before he leaves. This is completely cheesy but I feel like it is a first date over again. I thought it would be nice, kind of like book ends to a friendship. And true to form, I have played out all the different scenarios and endings in my head...complete with laughter, tears, embraces and “embraces.” Sometimes there is even an orchestra swell right before the credits begin to scroll.

Keep your fingers crossed.

Of course, if I do lose my nerve and revert back to my old cowardly ways and send him off to Portland without a proper cinematic ending, he will find out how I feel after he reads this blog entry. That is my passive aggressive version of courage.

Online dating is tricky. One might even say it is akin to going on a blind date. At least with the latter you are being set up by friends who hopefully have your best interests at heart and not by a random computer equation. It can be quite surprising when X + Z = Y actually solves in your favor.

A major problem with online dating is creating your own profile. It can be overwhelming. You must sound articulate, funny, adventurous, and sexy. It usually takes me at least four drafts before I am remotely satisfied with how I come across. As we all know, there are many MANY people that do not take that sense of pride, or anal retentiveness, in their profiles. I have one thing to say to you budding online daters: Spell Check. To be honest, all that can be over looked with some great photos; it's shameful but true.

The only thing worse than the creation of a profile is trying to decipher other people’s profiles. One thing we have to remember when starting online dating is that people lie. People lie about themselves so much it can be like reading a good novel. Don’t get me started on photo selection. Let me only say that more often than not, people pick photos that lie for them. That is why going on first dates set up by the binary system always gives me agita. (Ed: fancy name for heartburn.)

When awaiting a computer match, I am so full of anticipation that I start chanting: “No whammies, no whammies. Stop!” And, inevitably, as soon as I see my bewildered bachelor, I hear “Wah wah wah.” That’s right, I just got a whammy. Since my time in New York, I have had some whammies and some WHAMMIES. Very rarely have I actually hit the jackpot.

One morning, in a desperate need to connect, I started chatting with an incredibly hot guy on Grindr. Instead of going right for the gold, we both only wanted to talk. Yes, its true – only talk. We chatted throughout the entire day. We actually chatted for the next four days.We exchanged witty banter, delved into each other’s past and I even told him that I am HIV positive. It was like we had our first, second and third date without actually-physically meeting.

When the time came for our date, I was so excited. I wasn’t worried that those crazy cartoon whammies would make a mockery of my date. I was sure that he was a jackpot. That’sanother example of the hubris of the young.

As soon as I watched him saunter up to me, I heard that dreaded “Wah, wah, wah!” and those cute but oh so annoying cartoon creatures came into vision. Let’s just say, his pictures were slightly out of date. That was fine, I can deal with that.What I couldn’t deal with was that he tried way too hard to impress me - almost as soon as he started to talk, his proverbial purse came out.

As we sat down for dinner, he insisted on ordering for me, all the while rambling through a list of famous people he has worked for.He then had a conversation with the owner of the restaurant that lasted almost the entire length of our stay. I wasn’t sure if I should consider this rude or a gift from the heavens. The restaurant comped our meals. He then threw down a hundred dollar bill as a tip, but made sure I was watching so I could see him in all of his glory.

I did the only thing that I could do, I made-up some inane reason that I had to go home “Where do you live?” he asked.My response: “I live in Astoria, Queens.” His expression changed to that of one who just “smelt it” but hadn’t “dealt it”, and replied, “Oh.” He was completely fine with me being HIV positive, but apparently living in Queens was a deal breaker. On the way back to unimpressive Queens, I couldn’t stop myself from laughing at what had just transpired.

Ever since that particular incident, I am weary about my expectations when it comes to online dating. That is why when I fell into the same pattern of having amazing conversations for days with a new guy on OkCupid last week, I was ever so tentative about actually meeting him. So I did what every good dater does, I told him that the only time that I could meet him was for an hour right before I had to meet my friends at the theatre.

I waited outside the bar for his imminent arrival and I knew that those pesky whammies were waiting in the wings to make their entrance and ruin my evening. When I caught a glimpse of him turning the corner, there was no “Wah wah..” and there were definitely no whammies. Hmmmm? Jackpot, maybe.

I was surprised that I was actually having a good time with him. As good if not better than our many conversations online. We talked about all of our favorite things and then all of a sudden there it was…“Wah wah wah…” But this time it was by no doing of his, but rather my own. It was time for me to leave.Unlike those good daters, my plans for after were not fake ones that I could pretend to blow off if I happened to enjoy his company. Nope, mine were really real plans that I couldn’t miss.

As we got up to leave he commented that it was ok that I had to go, because now he had time to volunteer for the Trevor Project. Are you kidding me? Cute, smart, funny, and he volunteers!?!

When we said our goodbyes, he grabbed and kissed me but I really had to go. I was already late. I couldn’t even linger with that almost perfect kiss. As I walked away I was surrounded by those devilish whammies that taunted me the entire way to the theatre.

Well, at least I made it through to the next level, keep your fingers crossed that I won't be eliminated and that I get the chance to make it to the bonus round.