Matchmaker, Matchmaker...

On Sunday, a friend ("T") met "J," and then later in the evening, "M." With J there was talking; with M, dancing.

Yesterday, J asked if I would give T contact information; today, M asked how to contact T. M commented, sheepishly: "how high school."

Agreed. A part of me was writing it off to my perception of a collective lack of dating experience in high school. While my straight peers were playing the game of asking friends about who-likes-whom, and figuring out if the object of affection might possibly return the feeling, I was doing my best not to be attracted to anyone. Maybe all these straight people have figured out how to "date" as sophisticated adults— rather than as teenage schoolgirls.

(Note I said "date." Many gay men I know are good at the "cutting to the chase" evening, as it were. But I believe, and have seen it validated many times, that the longer-term dating-potential relationships don't start with any meeting that includes "nakedness," as I have heard it subtly called.)

Of course, I think all that, and then flash over to Sex In The City reruns, where the girls are playing the who-likes-whom, and think, "nah, it's just human behavior."