Signature Look: “The Fraz”
Date: Stanley Park Pitch ‘n’ Putt (Par 3)
“Nice shot,” I say. “Do you always shoot so far?”
We’re on Hole 12. Fraser smiles and his lip stud catches the sun, but he doesn’t get my juvenile attempt at flirtation. Golf club in hand, he’s what would happen if Diesel held a runway show on a golf course: knitted sweater, great legs, nice ass and fitted jeans pulled low enough that his underwear is showing.
My first impression: he’s well put together, a sign that he’s ready to model, in my mind. He was 10 minutes late meeting me, though, which won’t fly in the fashion world.
“It must be really hard on the knees always bending over for balls,” Fraser says, after finally putting it in.
This time I can’t stop myself: “I don’t know, from the looks of things today it seems like you’ve had a lot of practice.”
To his credit, he laughs and asks if he heard me correctly. I assure him he did.
I know he’s 19, but still, after an hour of “I need to practise stroking” and “What a nice hole” and “Do you want me to grab our balls,” I am ready for a head explosion (sexual reference intended).
In our pre-interview, Fraser told me he’d never been on a real date. This, combined with his being the youngest contestant, landed him a spot in my top three.
He wants to be a short-track speed skater, he tells me. Or a lawyer. He plays hockey and also boxes. For the first time in a long time, he makes me wish I were younger.
After the 18th hole, I ask him to tally the score.
“I had 95 strokes; you had 102!” he tells me, smiling.
Par for the course is 54. In my defence, he’s been to golf camp, and for obvious reasons, I had problems focusing.
The Goodbye: He looks like he might kiss me after I walk him back to his car. Instead he goes in for a hug. I’m okay with it. At least I can tell people he finished me off with seven expert strokes.
Signature Look: “The Cox Block”
Date: Commodore Lanes & Billiards
As we step into the bowling alley, Riley warns me, “Most of my balls are going to end up in the gutter.”
“I have a lot of experience with gutters,” he adds.
We definitely have that in common. We also wear the same size bowling shoe and neither of us knows how to keep score. Fact: Commodore Lanes is so old, you have to keep score by hand.
Riley looks like he was born in a gym — the way he looks in his grey T-shirt makes me sick. Good sick, but still sick.
He is the fitness/underwear model of the top model group and is probably the nicest guy I know. He has an undergraduate degree and could become a doctor, but wants to produce music. His jokes are sharp but not mean, and he’s just the right amount of shy.
In short: he embodies everything I like about being gay. He would be the perfect boyfriend, people. And yes, he’s taken.
“I’m a serial monogamist,” he confesses.
I also have a confession to make: I first saw Riley on the Davie bus about a year and a half ago, cruised the shit out of him, but was too shy to ask him out.
When I tell him this over beers, taking a break from bowling, he says, “You should’ve.”
Oh cool. Thanks, Riley. Way to rub it in.
Here’s another confession: Riley is actually a good friend of mine. He and his boyfriend, Adam, are amazing and fun and make me want to vomit puppies on a regular basis.
Riley and I end up playing two games of 10 frames. I win the first then beat Riley by one point in the second. I’m convinced he let me win the second. He’s that goddamn nice.
The Goodbye: At the corner of Davie and Burrard, after a couple of drinks at Licorice, and always a fan of pushing my luck, I ask Riley for a kiss. To my surprise, he gives me one, and even better, he blushes after! It is of the sisterly closed-mouth variety, but I’m pretty sure his boyfriend will still bottle me in the throat for it.
Signature Look: “The Porter Pout”
Date: Earls (at Hornby and Smithe)
So Michael and I were originally supposed to go out for karaoke and drinks, but he chose to go out with his boyfriend that night instead. I even suggested all three of us go to karaoke — imagine how much fun that would be, a threesome date! — but he said no to that too.
So… I ask Michael to go for sushi instead.
And then he suggests we go to Earls because he doesn’t like sushi.
Now, I don’t mean to be a bitch, but you can spend time with your boyfriend whenever you want. That’s why you’re dating each other. This may turn out to be the only interview-date you get this lifetime, girl, and it was at Earls!
As we sit down for burgers with the weekday business crowd (the worst), it’s clear from the start Michael is the most serious model of my three dates.
When I ask him about a dream fashion-house gig, he laughs and says, “I want to say Prada, but almost want to say Valentino at the same time.” He pauses. “Or Burberry. Have you seen their new commercial? That’s the look I want.”
Michael currently works as a hair stylist and was actively scouting representation in Vancouver before his Gay Top Model stint. He plays with his hair a lot while talking and tells me so, but he also has the nicest hair of any guy I’ve ever met, so he’s justified.
He tells me he’s thinking of moving to Europe after building up a portfolio here.
I want to tell him that he’s a walking version of “She’s Got the Look” by Roxette and go “La la la la la you’ve got the look!” But I decide to save my serenading for a future karaoke date with some other guy.
The Goodbye: He gets a sheepish look on his face as I walk him back to work and tells me, “I promised you a hug and that’s what you’re getting.” True to his word, he hugs me and that’s that. Waa waa.