alter-ego "Vincent" thanks to his friend's meddling.
Barry had completely torn down the fabricated dating site profile Otis had painstakingly built and replaced it with -- horror of horrors --the truth. Not that presenting himself as "Vincent" had helped much beyond grabbing Internet attention. One look at the real him and his dates suddenly remembered prior engagements. And hanging out with Barry, the friend who'd put an end to his lying… Well, Otis didn't want to wear out a welcome or appear too needy. Besides, Barry had a full plate right now, conducting his own search for Mr. Right.
Once alone, Otis accessed the "GLBT Community's Matchmaking Miracle" as the dating site dubbed itself.
He'd die, slowly and horribly, before ever telling his crew the unsuccessful lengths he'd gone through to get a man, letting them believe that he loved the single life.
Truth be told, he didn't like living alone at all, and he envied Danny's loving family and even Steve's apparent ease at finding dates. Hell, he couldn't even find a decent roommate, let alone a live-in lover. His last roommate had bitched constantly about living in "command central" instead of a house, and flounced out the door owing three months of back rent. That's what Otis got for placing a newspaper ad, he supposed, and accepting the one lone applicant he'd gotten, sight unseen.
He signed onto the site, wincing at the picture on his profile that he hadn't yet gotten used to. Up until a few days ago he'd been "Vincent," a hot, athletic stud whose picture he'd stol-- err, make that "appropriated" from the A Lie I Can Live With - 8
Internet, and whose profile sprang to life from his imagination, loosely based on Captain Nathan, of course. Most of the men who'd agreed to meet
"Vincent," and there were many, weren't very nice about Otis showing up instead. At least it got him out of the house for a time… a very brief time. Otis had hoped that once his dates met him, got to know the real him, they'd forgive the white lie. It wasn't like a little profile embellishment made him a bad guy, did it? Besides, if he presented himself as himself, he'd never get to meet anyone, because no one seemed to want a comfortably padded, nerdy bear.
"You're not fat, dear, you're big-boned," his mother used to say. Sadly, that's not what other people called it.
Thus, his perfect alter-ego, who hadn't done much better in the dating department than Otis, truth be told.
Staring at the image that could have come from a bad Italian mobster movie (thanks for the genes, Grandpa Santino!) he scowled, taking in the bushy unibrow and the impatient five o'clock shadow that always made an appearance within two hours of shaving. The image reminded him of Corporal Cole from Invasion, who could land a starship on a tiny asteroid with ease, and regularly defeated bad guys with cunning and mathematically plotted trajectories rather than with guns, brawn, and kick-ass attitude. Sadly, Cole was usually the last character chosen by gamers.
Why couldn't Otis be blond-haired and blue-eyed like his father's side of the family? He could easily tell from the picture Barry had uploaded that the man in it might benefit from a little exercise. But then again, he'd heard it said many times that the camera added ten pounds.
Twenty in his case. And who in their right mind would want to date someone whose sole claim to fame consisted of winning the Rubik's Cube championship in A Lie I Can Live With - 9
high school? "Interests: gaming and cooking. Loves movies, microbreweries, and anime conventions." Why couldn't he find someone who appreciated those qualities in a man?
He scanned the list of prospects that the service had matched him with. Strangely, they were the same men
GetaDate.com had recommended to Vincent, backing up
his theory that the elaborate survey he'd filled out to join the site -- and that Barry trashed and completely redid --
played absolutely no part in the actual matching. The site simply
Barry had completely torn down the fabricated dating site profile Otis had painstakingly built and replaced it with -- horror of horrors --the truth. Not that presenting himself as "Vincent" had helped much beyond grabbing Internet attention. One look at the real him and his dates suddenly remembered prior engagements. And hanging out with Barry, the friend who'd put an end to his lying… Well, Otis didn't want to wear out a welcome or appear too needy. Besides, Barry had a full plate right now, conducting his own search for Mr. Right.
Once alone, Otis accessed the "GLBT Community's Matchmaking Miracle" as the dating site dubbed itself.
He'd die, slowly and horribly, before ever telling his crew the unsuccessful lengths he'd gone through to get a man, letting them believe that he loved the single life.
Truth be told, he didn't like living alone at all, and he envied Danny's loving family and even Steve's apparent ease at finding dates. Hell, he couldn't even find a decent roommate, let alone a live-in lover. His last roommate had bitched constantly about living in "command central" instead of a house, and flounced out the door owing three months of back rent. That's what Otis got for placing a newspaper ad, he supposed, and accepting the one lone applicant he'd gotten, sight unseen.
He signed onto the site, wincing at the picture on his profile that he hadn't yet gotten used to. Up until a few days ago he'd been "Vincent," a hot, athletic stud whose picture he'd stol-- err, make that "appropriated" from the A Lie I Can Live With - 8
Internet, and whose profile sprang to life from his imagination, loosely based on Captain Nathan, of course. Most of the men who'd agreed to meet
"Vincent," and there were many, weren't very nice about Otis showing up instead. At least it got him out of the house for a time… a very brief time. Otis had hoped that once his dates met him, got to know the real him, they'd forgive the white lie. It wasn't like a little profile embellishment made him a bad guy, did it? Besides, if he presented himself as himself, he'd never get to meet anyone, because no one seemed to want a comfortably padded, nerdy bear.
"You're not fat, dear, you're big-boned," his mother used to say. Sadly, that's not what other people called it.
Thus, his perfect alter-ego, who hadn't done much better in the dating department than Otis, truth be told.
Staring at the image that could have come from a bad Italian mobster movie (thanks for the genes, Grandpa Santino!) he scowled, taking in the bushy unibrow and the impatient five o'clock shadow that always made an appearance within two hours of shaving. The image reminded him of Corporal Cole from Invasion, who could land a starship on a tiny asteroid with ease, and regularly defeated bad guys with cunning and mathematically plotted trajectories rather than with guns, brawn, and kick-ass attitude. Sadly, Cole was usually the last character chosen by gamers.
Why couldn't Otis be blond-haired and blue-eyed like his father's side of the family? He could easily tell from the picture Barry had uploaded that the man in it might benefit from a little exercise. But then again, he'd heard it said many times that the camera added ten pounds.
Twenty in his case. And who in their right mind would want to date someone whose sole claim to fame consisted of winning the Rubik's Cube championship in A Lie I Can Live With - 9
high school? "Interests: gaming and cooking. Loves movies, microbreweries, and anime conventions." Why couldn't he find someone who appreciated those qualities in a man?
He scanned the list of prospects that the service had matched him with. Strangely, they were the same men
GetaDate.com had recommended to Vincent, backing up
his theory that the elaborate survey he'd filled out to join the site -- and that Barry trashed and completely redid --
played absolutely no part in the actual matching. The site simply
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