Flake Lively

When you are gay in New York City, and you meet people on the internet through websites like Gay.com or Manhunt, you quickly learn that there are a lot of Flakes out there. A few weeks ago someone I met took flaking to a whole new level.

We had been chatting online for months – he lived just outside the city, but came in almost every weekend. That Saturday night, he was going to see a Broadway show, and we decided that after the show he and I would meet up for drinks. Because we had met online I knew there was at least a 50% chance he would flake. I expected him to either forget the plans a few days after we made then, or say that he wasn’t seeing the show after all, or just not contact me at all. So I was pleasantly surprised when, at 7:45pm on Saturday, I received a text from him.

In the city, headed into the theater, see you in a few hours!

I wrote back:
Great, see you then!

My friends had made plans to go to a party, and I had told them truthfully that there was a fair chance I would join them, because I had a very “tentative” date. However, after getting the text I decided the date was actually happening, and sent them on their way without me. Then I killed a couple hours watching Gossip Girl while Internet Boy was in his show.

The show was over at 10:30. At 10:45, having not heard from him, I sent him a text.
Hey, how was the show? Let me know when you are ready to meet up, I’m not far from the theater.

No reply. I waited. And waited. And waited. Around 11:15, I sent another text:
What happened, are you waiting for autographs?

Ten minutes later, when no reply came, I knew he had flaked. I was pissed. If he hadn’t written me before the show, I would have texted him – and if he didn’t reply then, no big deal. I would have gone to the party with my friends and salvaged my evening. But now, I had waited around since 7:45, it was almost midnight, and the friends were long gone.

I was also a little stunned. Yes, I had expected the Flaking as a possibility from the beginning. But what was with the pre-theater text message? If he didn’t want to see me, why had he sent a message earlier saying that he did? What had happened in the two and a half hours while he was in the show… did he fall in love with some usher, bang him in the powder room and go off to live happily ever after? Damn you Broadway and your magical happy endings…