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THE CHASE IS ON ‌ Co-Mix and Mingle

Searching for Superman in a world of Clark Kents

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A few months ago, I was perusing online sites offering up advice on unusual places to meet single men. An article on msn.com had a few decent suggestions, but one of my favorites on the list was a comic book convention. "Perfect!" I thought, considering my buddy Peter was making a rare appearance at HeroesCon in Charlotte and had asked me to moderate his panel. Yes, just when you thought I couldn't reveal anymore of my inner geekdom, I drop this in your seersucker-dressed laps. I *heart* comics — but mainly alternative comics, not that fancy-pants, cape-wearing bullshit.

Anyway, I had never thought of a comic book convention as being a viable place to meet potential bachelors, but I guess it makes sense — the industry is mainly geared towards and creatively dominated by those carriers of Y chromosomes. And as much as the convention center is probably packed with overweight guys who live in their mom's basement and like to argue about Han Solo shooting first in the original Star Wars, there's probably a good cross-section of people like me who are, well, not that. Chances are we'll be the weird ones, sticking out like sore thumbs and hovering around the hotel bar while the "norms" huddle up in their rooms to play Magic: The Gathering.

So after updating my iPod, off to Charlotte I went, not really knowing what to expect. If no cute boys were to be found, I had written out some pick-up lines geared toward the more obvious geeks and had intended to use them for my own sick personal enjoyment. Lines such as, "How about we go back to your place, light some candles, crack open a bottle of wine, put on some soft jazz, and I'll lay back and watch you masturbate while you download pictures of Counselor Deanna Troi from Star Trek: The Next Generation?" or "You might look like an ewok, but I bet you're all wookie where it counts!"

As I drove past the convention center on my way to check into the hotel, I was not disappointed. Well, no, in a way I was slightly disappointed. Guys wearing pulled-up white socks and knee-length denim shorts peppered the street, clutching their plastic-bagged comics close to their chest, but being careful not to bend them. Hello, fellas!

After dragging my bags up to my room, I walked down to the convention center to visit my friend at his table. And let me tell you this, ladies, if you ever want to feel like the most attractive chick in a room, go to a comic book convention. Not that the women there weren't attractive, but there were just so few. With each table I passed, I could feel heads turn and conversation cease as my ass was being checked out through multiple pairs of thick prescription glasses.

So did I meet any cute single men? Not really, as I tended to spend more time with out-of-town artists than with the actual patrons. Unfortunately, the artists were all attached, but they made great drinking buddies! As we got in the car on the way home from a night of fun conversation and libations, Peter turned to me and asked if I noticed how all the guys were eyeing me up and down. He paused, and at the same time we blurted out, "Well, look at the lack of competition!"

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