Time and time again...

I continually find myself placed in an age bracket that I do not belong.

This past weekend, I attended a gay soiree. A friend of James' was having people by for what was to be their house warming...even though they've already lived there for a few months.

We were greeted at the door enthusiastically by our host. That is to say, James was greeted enthusiastically by our host, while I got an awkwardly-weak hug and hello. I know that I've got probably 40 pounds and an extra foot on the guy, but I always prefer a genuine hug over some half-assed imitation.

As we circled the room, I, like any other red-blooded gay, drank in the scenery. I instantly recognized his friends, and said my hellos, as well as enjoyed the sight of a few other cute ones I'd never met before.

The second most important step in these situations is getting your ass into the kitchen and getting a drink in your hand. James got distracted by his friends as we made our way towards the kitchen, so I cut my losses and went on ahead. And there he was.

Standing under the tube lighting was a guy my height, with short cropped brown hair and a staggeringly innocent face. Not that he was 18 years old, but he just looked genuine, happy and friendly. He immediately said hello as I entered the room, and gave me an electric smile.

Probably the number one quality I appreciate in any gay is if they're unpretentious. I have no problem with a guy who loves the scene, loves partying and loves fashion; I hate when that means he has to hate everyone else, judge everyone else and act as if he were above everyone else.

Unpretentious is the definition I give this guy. And damn, was he unpretentious wrapped in nice packaging.

After Rick and I shook hands, and I'd made a drink, James showed up to claim his. Again, Rick introduced himself with a hearty handshake and smile. We started talking, and James asked if he would like a drink.

"I'm not much of a drinker," Rick said. "Half a glass and I'm falling all over myself."

We all laughed, since he was pretty much the same build that I am, and I can tuck away quite a few before I loose operational status.

"Oh, ok then," James said simply. "If you want some, it's right here."

Rick's eyes glinted slightly as his smile flashed again. "Thanks," he said, still smiling. "But wait, you guys aren't trying to get me drunk?" he added coyly, staring directly into my eyes.

Since I don't know how to flirt, I did my best to beam a smile and little eye glinting back at him. James stepped aside to talk to some other people who had just arrived, and I took the moment to try and get to know the unpretentious character in front of me.

"So, you a student?" I asked, since everyone else in the room was.

"No, actually, finished school a couple years ago," he said. "But wait, you must be around my age, right?"

I hesitated, trying not to roll my eyes. It was happening again...

"Uh, well, that depends," I said, playing along. "How old are you?"

"Well how old do you think I am?" he shot back, a grin cracking across his face.

In truth, I was 90% sure he was 27. But that sounds so close to 30, and if he wasn't, I didn't want to be insulting.

"26," I lied.

"Wrong, 27," he said. I explained that I'd already figured, but didn't want to offend him in case I was wrong.

"So how old are you then," he questioned.

"Well, actually, a couple years younger...I'm twenty...uh," I said, pausing, since I'm not really used to saying 22 just quite yet. "Twenty two. But I know what you were going to say," I added with a self-deprecating laugh. "That's how old you thought I was, right?"

He paused, sensing by some divine insight that this might be a bit of a sensitive subject with me. "Well..." he said, trailing off.

"It's ok, I get it all the time!" I said as cheerfully as possible, and navigated the conversation on to other subjects.

Like it or not, the rest of the world seems to think I look 27. And they've been saying it for about a year now. For some reason, even though I really don't understand what exactly about my appearance looks that age, people just come up with the same number. Over and over, person after person, all claim the same thing. I look 27, but still many days under 30.

Last night, the topic came up again with my roommates. I recounted the story, and with a bit of disgust, thrust my face in a mirror and asked, "Just what exactly makes me look five years older than I actually am!?"

Sufficed to say, neither of them could pin it down. "It's just...one of those things?" said one. "You can't control it, I can't even say what features make it that way. You just look a little older."

"We both look younger than our ages," the other added. "It's just the way things are, it's just 'the way' you look. Don't take it as such a bad thing."

Even though it's not necessarily a bad thing, I still resent it. And even a guy who belongs to my phantom age can't tell the difference. Not that I'm profoundly disturbed by it, by my perceived older age...I just would like an explanation why the configuration of my eyes, nose and mouth conspire to add five years to my actual age.

Somehow, I don't think I'll ever have the answer.

It's just the way it is.