50 Grind Dates | the.applied.process.

19.08.2011

Grind Date No. 12: Gilty

I should have probably wrote a combined entry for this and date no. 11 as they were both short and they both have things in common, but I took the creative liberty of splitting them in two because, without giving any spoilers, there might be a reason in the future for doing so.

I’d seen ‘Gilty’s’ profile a few times on Grindr. He looked young and very cute. He somewhat reminded me of one of my exes and, oddly enough, my intuition wasn’t that far off. I remember messaging him from either my iPad or my phone (yes, I have two accounts, Grindr wasn’t initially available for Androids and after it was, I had already built a “network” of boys on my iPad and couldn’t transfer my profile so I kept both). I don’t think he responded. A few days ago, I messaged him from my other device. This time he bit the bait.

We talked for a few days. He was quite witty and showered me with compliments. What can I say? I’m a sucker for an ass kisser (both figuratively and literally). He mentioned he had a boyfriend but, again, that didn’t stop him from sending me sexy pics and asking for the same. All he got was a pic of me in my underwear cleaning my apartment. Similar pictures are readily available on my Facebook anyway so it wasn’t a big deal, and he’d already “friended” me.

** side note: why don’t people post accurate pictures online?! his Grindr and Facebook did NOT exude the same vibe! I’ll elaborate later.**

He kept suggesting we meet for “fully clothed cuddling sessions” and tea. I love how these people are in “relationships”. What’s the point of having one if you’re going to be flirting with everything that moves and sending pictures of your peen to whoever requests them (or doesn’t in my case)? Just drop the labels society requires you to adopt. I should write an entire entry on my thoughts on this whole phenomenon.

When I asked him why he was on Grindr if he had a man he said that, as his profile stated, he was just looking for friends. He also sent me a picture of his boyfriend’s Grindr profile. Curiously enough, I’d talk to the guy too. Which one was hotter? I think the boyfriend, but ‘Gilty’ was more fun to talk to.

After a couple of days of back and forthing, he suggested we meet Tuesday morning for tea because that was really the only time both our schedules worked out. I agreed. By a twist of fate, my sister had a layover Monday night and was going to be in New York till Tuesday evening. I informed ‘Gilty’ of this. He was bummed. By another twist of fate, my sister was stuck in Newark, and would not meet me till midday on Tuesday so as soon as I woke up I messaged him. He was going to come over when, again, fate was being a bitch, and my sister called saying she was about to take a train to the city. I apologized to ‘Gilty’ and told him I could meet him for a smoothie and he could come with as I walked my dog. He agreed.

I got dressed and out the door I went to the coffee shop. My initial reaction? he was somewhere between his very hot Grindr pic and his very camp Facebook pics. I dug it. He ordered a coffee, I got my usual, and we walked down Bedford ave. He complimented me once more on my looks and my outfit. I found out he was a stylist (my ex was in fashion). He was a Gemini (just like my ex). He loved thrift shops (so did my ex). He had a peculiar sense of style (guess who else did too?!). He was from Florida (this is where the similarities stopped).

We walked and talked and talked and walked some more. A brief 10 minute doggie walk turned into a marathonian endeavor. I didn’t mind since I was having fun and, again, getting my ass kissed. I lost track of time for a second, but then I remembered I had a younger sister on a train on her way to a city she’s never been so I refocused and bid him Auf Wiedersehen. He’s also German.

We decided to meet sometime next week for round two. A part of me wants to see how far I can push his boundaries. I wasn’t and am not looking for sex out of these encounters, but I feel like I’ve hit a slight dry spell and I need to spice it up a bit and I feel like I like this one for that specific reason. There’s something really alluring about tender taken meat.

Just like the previous date, all there’s left to say is: to be continued…

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18.08.2011

Grind Date No. 11: Rick.

Although it did not start off Grindr, because I first saw this one on the train on our way to Fire Island last week, I decided to included this as a Grindr Date because we first started talking through the app and, as I mentioned in a previous post, it was very cute and documenting-worthy.

After our first unofficial meet, we kept texting back and forth making plans to maybe meet sometime during the week when he was back in New York. I did not think much about it during the weekend because, as I had stated, it was a tough Friday-Sunday and I was just focused on my friend. Sunday He mentioned he’d be running around the city on Monday stopping by Brooklyn sometime after lunch. The “date” was set. He was going to text me when he was around my neighborhood so we could meet for “something”.

Monday I was running around cleaning like crazy, my apartment hadn’t had a good scrub down since before ‘Siouxsie’ had came to visit. We were texting all morning. He suggested he’d come and watch me clean. I wasn’t very comfortable with him coming to my place right away, plus I wasn’t sure what I wanted to make out of this encounter so I told him it was a mess and we’d be better off meeting for a drink somewhere near. At about 3:30 pm he texted he was about half hour away so I showered, got ready, and met him outside the Bedford stop. He was looking more handsome than before. He had an almost inexistent accent. He was quite tall which I guess is what I go for lately. We kissed hello. I told him I needed to get food before putting some alcohol in my system. I bought a slice from a spot half a block away and we walked down Bedford to look for a bar.

Although he’s no stranger to the city, I wasn’t sure where I wanted to take him. Somehow somewhere around Bedford and Metropolitan it hit me: Lucky Dog, a bar I don’t normally frequent because it’s not really close, but I quite enjoy. It’s cheap enough and has a backyard. He enjoyed the spot. We ordered two beers and sat in the back patio.

The conversation was great. He is very interesting, seems quite nice, and has an eye for good fashion. We talked about everything normal dates talk about, yet it was never dull or boring. We were not being very touchy feely but there was some sort of tension there. I could smell it. He mentioned he had a boyfriend back home. What a surprise! A gay guy in an open relationship? I think I need to reevaluate my own convictions a bit more because the more guys I meet, the more I realize this is the norm and if you can’t beat them, join them. To be honest tho, I wouldn’t say I’ve had to beat them because deep down I kind of feel I’ve always been inclined to that. Why fight my own nature?

We ordered a second beer. I taught him about pickle back shots, and told him he needed to have one before he left. He told me he had a dinner and thus he had to leave soon. The beers where enchantingly casting their cupid-like spell on me. I was considering taking this one home. At the same time, I was fine with not doing so, the weekend had me very drained. We finished our beers and before walking out I made him take a shot with me. He liked it.

We walked back to the subway. He kept complimenting me which I never mind. I complimented him back but, like most older men I’ve gone out with, he seemed to have a problem believing the validity of my statements. He mentioned he comes to New York a lot so we decided to be patient and postpone the sexy games for when we actually have time/we’re ready. We got to the train station and kissed goodbye. It was nice. A cop was watching. He said he might try and meet up with me again the next day. We left it at that.

I went home slightly buzzed and updated my Facebook to: “I think I’m down with Germans”. He “liked” it later that day.

We didn’t meet on Tuesday, he was very busy, and I had an impromptu visit from my sister so I was busy as well. We’ve been talking since. He seems extremely nice. It’s cute. I’m not sure what’ll come from it, but I’m open to the possibilities. I’m sure there will be entries on the blog about that when/if it happens. For now all I have to say is: fortzusetzen…

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06.08.2011

Grind Date No. 10: Boricuan Benefactee

The title should start to set the tone for this entry. I don’t mean to be mean, again, just honest, but this time, I felt like my kind heart was being very giving. I met the ‘Boricuan Benefactee, or ‘BB’ for short, on Monday night whilst on Grindr. His default picture was, not surprisingly, a headless torso, but with his first “hello” he also sent a face pic. Instant reaction: oh hell no. But then he sent a few more messages that made him seem both sweet, funny, and different, so I gave him the chance to prove himself. As expected, and I am a very good judge of character. He was all of the above. He looked black, but he soon told me he was half Panamanian (gross) and half Puerto Rican (even grosser). I don’t mean to sound racist, but there’s two things to consider here: in the hypothetical hierarchy between Hispanics, you have Spaniards, followed by Mexicans, and then the rest; furthermore, I don’t feel attracted to people darker than me. I don’t know why, it makes no sense, but that’s how it is and I can’t argue with my penis. He usually wins.

As I stated before, I was having a home cooked dinner with ‘Jose Maria’, whilst Grinding, watching “The A-List” (I don’t know why I do that), and also possibly making plans to meet a friend at Metro who was just in town for the night. I didn’t really have time for a date, not was I expecting to have a typical one. It’s Grindr, I think it redefines the concept of what a gay date is. ‘BB’ was sweet, he invited me over, but I told him of my previous plans. I told him to come meet me at the bar. As soon as ‘The A-List’ was done, we walked over to Metro, and met up with my other friend. ‘BB’ kept insisting that he wanted to hang out but was too shy to come meet me. I didn’t find this shady, I found it infantile. The dollar PBR’s were slowly making me more impatient and a bit more of an asshole. I was getting bored with the Boricua, yet at the same time I wanted to see how persuasive I could be. Drinking also makes me stubborn. He took a long time, but eventually he came (no pun intended).

I was ordering a drink inside when I first spotted him. He was wearing black shorts and a red American Apparel plaid poly/blend t-shirt (my ex was the manager of the best selling AA in California, that’s why I know these things). He was taller than me, not to mention the fact that he had some curly pseudo mohawk that looked more like a black triangular hedge with a life of its own than actual hair which added a few more inches. To be fair, he was cuter than his pictures, but still not my type. He ordered a drink and I took him outside to meet my friends. He was not shy, on the contrary, he was very chatty with ‘Jose Maria’. Then again, ‘Jose Maria’ has that quality about him, which is why we bond well as friends. Sometimes when I’m being my charming lush self prancing around the bar socializing, he’s holding down the fort for when I decide to come back.

I talked to ‘BB’ for a bit, found out he was in a band, he was moving soon possibly out of the neighborhood, and a few other things that I didn’t care to remember. We had more drinks, but nothing else really. He seemed more engaged with my partner in crime than me, and that was fine. Like I said, I was just trying to be nice since he wanted to hang out, but from the get go I knew that, unless I was life threateningly drunk, I wasn’t gonna touch him with a ten foot pole. Ok that’s a bit too much, I meant in terms of anything sexual. As a friend the kid is alright. He’s very green, but he’s nice enough for me to consider hanging out with him again. I enjoy random drinks with random acquaintances.

We left Metro and walked towards our respective places. Turns out he lives about a couple of blocks away from me. I said goodbye and went home.

A few days later I randomly saw him comment on one of my friend’s facebook status updates. We didn’t just have one or two friends in common, we had eight, and a pretty diverse selection from all around the New York gay scene. Naturally, I befriended him. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: How fuckin’ small is the gay world?!

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02.08.2011

Grind Date No. 9: FiDi.

I think I need to reevaluate what it means to go on a “date”. Although the following two encounters were a bit more fruitful than the previous 2, they were still not a proper “dinner and a movie” kind of situations, but then again I’m picking my suitors off Grindr, what can I expect?

I met ‘FiDi’ while at work. His profile picture was him wearing a white shirt and a grey/tan suit that, although not properly tailored, made him look nice and successful. He had moved to NY recently from North Carolina, and worked in finance. I am a sucker for business men. We started talking and he seemed witty and intelligent. He is younger than me, younger than what I usually go for, but if you manage to stimulate my grey matter I’ll give you the time of day so, after a vast amount of back and forth messages, I gave him my number so we could text instead of killing our respective batteries through the app.

The texts continued. They were plenty and clever. We exchanged full names, I cyber stalked his Facebook profile, and added him. Not surprisingly, yet interestingly enough, we had three friends in common. I say interestingly because I wasn’t really expecting him to be friends with them of all people, but then again I’d later discover more about his m.o. and it would all make sense. The gentlemen in question were a bartender (no surprise there), and my year long crush ‘Fixie’ and his friend. That was the shock. He didn’t seem like any of their type, and they didn’t seem like his type either, not just for sex but in terms of friendship too. I obviously asked how he knew them. He said he didn’t know me well enough to tell me yet. Of course he was trying to make me think that this implied sex, but I knew that wasn’t the case. Later I found out they met at a party and that was the only time they saw each other.

The messages continued for a few days. We had made plans to meet for drinks last Friday after work, and possibly a dinner with his friends (which I found a bit weird), but it just so happened that ‘Fixie’ invited me on a bike ride to Conney Island and, of course, I had to reschedule with ‘FiDi’. He was ok with this. He said I’d have to make it up to him by buying him dinner. I suggested Taco Bell and only from the dollar menu. He accepted. Unfortunately, it rained that night so I didn’t get my ‘Fixie’ fix nor did I meet my future Mr. Big.

Saturday ensued more texting. No official meet yet.

Sunday I worked. I met ‘The Lady of Derbyshire’ and ‘Jose Maria’ for drinks at her rooftop after. We all had a late dinner (or right on if you’re on Greek time) and I wasn’t really feeling like going out. ‘The Lady of Derbyshire’s’ roommate, who is new to the city, wanted to party, so I suggested we go to the Gansevoort rooftop pool, and then maybe Greenhouse where ‘FiDi’ was supposed to be. Her straight friend quickly nixed the idea since these were gay soirees, so I texted ‘FiDi’ to see what he was doing. Me and ‘Jose Maria’ wishy washily discussed what we should do but, after neither of us was proactive and I didn’t get a text back, I just went home.

I was expecting to watch True Blood, have some wine and go to bed, but OnDemand has been bad about posting the episodes right after the air, so I talked to ‘FiDi’ and we decided to meet at Metropolitan. I have to give it to the kid, coming from the Financial District is not a short trip, so his efforts finally paid off, and he was finally going to get to enjoy my company. He texted me he was going to wear his plaid shirt to “fit in”. I giggled.

I arrived at Metro and ran into some familiar faces, as usual. Ten minutes later he arrived. He was indeed wearing a plaid shirt and, to make matters worse/funnier, eyeglasses which he didn’t actually need. He was cuter than the picture in a different way yet still not really my type. Kind of a baby face and still with some baby fat. As expected, he was very fun to talk to. The text-to-actual-conversation transition was nice. We had a few drinks, I smoked a few cigarettes, and we hit it off nicely. Some guy I recognized from Grindr kept staring at me and finally approached us. In his drunken stupor he started hitting on me and asked ‘FiDi’ if I was his boyfriend or if we were on a date. ‘FiDi’ handled the situation slyly and said that no, we weren’t together and we were sort of on a date. Drunk boy chatted us up a bit but eventually got the hint and left. Although he was cute, and I’d hit him up before on Grindr, I was a gentleman and let him leave to focus on my “date”.

The “date” seemed more like meeting a friend. We were very comfortable around each other to the point of both going on Grindr and comparing guys. He was a bit annoyed by this I think because he kept pointing out that I’d go on it again and again but, like I said, to me it was more of a friends thing and I was drunk enough to not care, plus he was doing it too. He talked about going to the Folsom Street Fair, and some sex party in which he didn’t participate, but that’s where he met ‘Fixie’s’ friend. It all made sense now. I don’t know why I was surprised he knew them. He is the typical case of small town gay moving to the big city and delighting himself in the new offerings that come with a more open minded place to live. Also, he is a business guy! They always turn out to be the “crazy, dungeon in the back room of my apartment, I love to get pissed on, and I have a collection of snuff films” kinda guy. I liked it.

Some other creep from Grindr started hitting on us. It was kind of scary, he was just looking to satiate his aching butthole’s desires, but neither me nor ‘FiDi’ were going to help. We talked to him a bit, but then we decided to leave. It was late. I was very drunk.

He walked me home because either he was expecting an invite, or he was somewhat concerned I couldn’t actually make it home. Neither of which were gonna happen. I’ve been in worse intoxicated states before and I always find my way my own bed if I want to. I said goodbye and went upstairs. No kiss, no anything.

The next day he texted me he had a good time, I replied saying I did too. He said he couldn’t’ wait to hang out again. Of course, I’m a fun guy to hang out with. I probably will, he was a nice kid and he’s new to the city, I’m always happy to oblige and extend a welcome. Although the “date” was uneventful in terms of sex, I was very pleased with the outcome. I am not always looking for sex and, like I stated when I first started this project, I am open for whatever. In this case, I think I just made a new friend.

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26.07.2011

Grind Date No. 7 & 8: Cupcakes & Clovers.

As I mentioned in the previous post, I had two quicky Grind dates this past weekend. I was beginning to think I was hitting a dry spill of some sort and I was somewhat hopefully for these two unexpected incidents, but sadly, almost nothing happened. However, I feel I should still record the experience to keep true to the mission at hand.

The mix of my recent manic hornyness and the drive to actually finish this project I started had lead me to logging in to Grindr, to the dislike of my friends, almost religiously. Everywhere and anywhere I went I’d try to make my presence noticed in the cyber cruise space, and apparently, my efforts have somewhat paid off.

Enter: Cupcakes. I saw him when I was logged in at Phoenix last Friday night. He was going out and I was going home so we just starred each other (Grindr’s way of “bookmarking” some one), exchanged numbers, and said goodnight. The following Saturday we were messaging consistently while I was at work. He mentioned he worked at a Cupcake shop in the village. He was cute, young, charming, and with a dog. Not necessarily instant wet pants, but something to work with. We sexted a bit. He kept me intrigued. Somehow he coerced me to stop by his shop after work and lured me with some free iced tea and dessert.

I asked ‘The Lady of Derbyshire’ to come with, and as soon as the clock struck 7 we closed the office and walked over. The weather was horribly hot and humid. The walk wasn’t the sexiest. Upon arriving, I was gross and sweaty, and a bit out of breath, but I said hi. He was cuter in person. There was a slightly awkward exchange of words and I got my Red Velvet 500 calorie cupcake and iced tea. We sat down in the AC-less establishment and gave in to our fat kid impulses. I didn’t talk to him at all the whole time. He was behind the counter, and I was with “The Lady of Derbyshire”. We finished our dessert and drank the delicious generic iced tea (to be honest, it might’ve only been delicious because of the heat) and I said bye and we took off. I told him to text me after work. Maybe we could meet, why not? We didn’t.

We texted back and forth a handful of times after that. Nothing really came out of it. I am not sure what he thought of me but by the looks of it, he wasn’t feeling it. Oh well, maybe later there’ll be an entry on round two.

Sunday I woke up a bit late for work and logged on to Grindr. I had been messaging some guy who was not too far away. He suggested we grab brunch but I said I had to work so I couldn’t. I told him I was gonna go grab a smoothie and he asked me to bring him one. I said “what do you think I am? the service? I am mexican, but that’s it”. He asked if he could join. I told him to meet me in 7 minutes. He arrived 15 minutes later. We got our drinks and walked back towards his. He was Irish, hence why I christened him ‘Clovers’. He worked with kids with autism. He lived in Massachusetts, and was in town only for the weekend. Overall he seemed like a nice guy, not my type at all physically, but a nice guy. His Grindr picture was deceiving.

We stopped outside his place and sat on the steps. We talked for about 5 to 10 minutes, and I told him I had to go. He said he was about to offer to go upstairs and get to know each other a bit better. I would’ve politely declined anyways. I walked home and got ready for work.

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23.06.2011

Grind Dates No. 5 & 6: The Griffin and The Cat.

My last day in Paris started with a lunch date. As I had mentioned, someone had recognized me on grindr the night before. After a quick memory searching I remembered him. I’d kissed him a while ago when he was in town visiting friends of my friends. That night had been a bit crazy. I kissed two or three guys, and so did he, and so did my friend, and so did his friend. It was a kissing clusterfuck. Nothing more happened, I never saw him again. ‘The Griffin’ mentioned he wanted to see me, I thought “why not?”, I was kind of intrigued to see this man in bright light. I told him I wanted to eat at this vegetarian restaurant in the marais, he offered to join. I showered and walked over to the spot. He lived close by. I was a bit late. He was waiting for me outside.

First… err… second? impression: just like shrimp, everything was good but the head. He had bad skin, but he was tall, slender, and very stylishly dressed. He asked if we could speak French, I said we’d be better off sitting in silence. We spoke English. He was nice. We discussed how small the gay world was. We formaly introduced ourselves and asked all the standard “what do you do’s”, “where are you from’s”, and “how do you know’s…” now that it was bright, we were sober, and there was no loud music. I ordered the ‘chilli sin carne‘, he ordered the ‘parmentier’ I believe. We shared some wine, and had coffee after the meal. C’est tout. ‘The Griffin’ paid for my food.

I wasn’t very sure what to think of the encounter… Did he want sex? Did I want sex? Certainly not this early. I told him I had to meet a friend in half hour. I told him we should talk later that evening. In reality, I had another date lined up.

He walked me to the metro where I said I had to go the opposite direction as him. I lied. I had no idea where i was going but i wanted to figure it out on my own. We said goodbye and I turned the corner. I texted ‘The Cat’. He didn’t reply. I had met this one a couple days ago on grindr and we’d decided we’d finally meet after several unsuccessful attempts. I called, he answered. Between his French accent, the crappy cellphone reception, and the noise of the streets, it was hard to understand what he was saying, but somehow I deciphered he wanted me to meet him in front of Centre Pompideu. I hung up the phone and texted him to confirm. I can read French better than I can understand ESL over the phone. He realized I had texted him earlier and said he’d meet me outside the metro ‘arts et metieres’ instead since I was there and it was on his way. I waited for about 20 minutes and then I finally saw him.

To say that his picture on grindr did not accurately portray him is an understatement! On grindr, he’s this sexy, scruffy French garçon smoking a cigarette and giving a James Dean-esque look that says ‘I like rough sex’. In person, he was this frail, hunched, red head with a voice that screams ‘I’m the thing pedophile priests’ dreams are made of”. OK maybe I am being a bit rough, but I meant both statements in the nicest way. After all, he was indeed a very nice guy. We walked and talked all the way to a coffee shop in front of Canal St. Martin, or as he put it in tourist terms “the canal where they filmed the movie Amelie”. I swear that movie must be every Parisian’s way of connecting to the world, it is certainly not the first nor the last time someone will point out something in Paris and say “have you seen the movie Amelie?…”

I ordered a beer, he ordered some coffee. ‘The Cat’ was really nice. He was smart, witty, interestingly dressed (in a good way), and well traveled (by Parisian standards). We finished our drink and he suggested we strolled along the canal. We did. It was a cute walk. There was a bit of sprinkly rain, but the sun was out, and Paris just looked like the Paris you see in movies… perhaps ‘Amelie’?

We walked back towards Republique and parted ways. He had a meeting to go to, I had a nap to take. I got back to the hotel and made plans with ‘Gong Girl’ to meet later for drinks and dancing. I woke up at 22h, we texted each other, and coincidentally met where we met the first time I saw her. She was with some friends celebrating this other girl’s birthday. There was a beautiful French gay boy with them (he was taken) that I couldn’t stop staring at. Nothing out of the ordinary happened. My last night was short, but fun.

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21.06.2011

Grind Date No. 4: Twentyeight.

On my last day in Amsterdam, I woke up somewhat early. I had lots of things to accomplish that day. The previous days I had partied, rested, and dilly dallied and not really gotten anything done that should be done when you first visit a city. I fought my usual hang over the same way I usually do: juice, water, pastry.

The day consisted of the Anne Frank house, Stedelijk Museum (contemporary and modern art), the Van Gogh museum, Rijskmuseum (Dutch history and heritage), a bike ride through the park, and eating some raw herring. I accomplished 66% of my goal. Anne Frank’s house was emotional. Stedelijk Museum was closed for renovation… or so I thought… Later I found the actual museum, not the annex, and it was quite nice. Van Gogh was overpriced, but a must when visiting Amsterdam. Rijskmuseum was educational. Back to the hostel I went. There was no bike ride or raw herring.

I logged onto grindr and started talking to a few boys. I ended up making plans with one who worked really close to my place: ‘Twentyeight’. He suggested I go eat at a place not too far away from where he lived. He said he’d meet me for a drink after I ate and after he got off work. I googled the place and it sounded decent: a nice little vegetarian Indian place.

After my decent dinner (I’d been eating home made Indian food in Birmingham, this place stood no chance), we decided on meeting across the street at a place called ‘mustache bar’. ‘Twentyeight’ arrived promptly. First impression: he’s different and cute. He spoke really good English, unlike my previous encounter. We ordered a few rounds and had a very nice conversation.

After, he suggested we went to a karaoke place since we both didn’t feel like going out raging all night. We walked for about ten minutes to his place of choice. He’d warn me it was quite unique and with a very mixed crowd. This man spoke the truth. Unique is an understatement. Upon entering the bar I spotted two very grungy drag queens behind the bar, a few older drunk straight men, a couple of fags with their respective hags, and some average looking people. The karaoke was hilarious. We ordered drinks and chatted a bit more. It turns out his birthday is the day after mine, and his favorite number is 28. What are the fucking odds! I was starting to like this guy… not in the way that “I want to marry you”, but in the way that “yes, maybe I’ll come home with you”. After a few more rounds, I did.

He’d told me his friend signed him up for one of those “home makeover” shows, so I was intrigued to see the final result. His place was a bit messy. I didn’t mind. It was nice for being my second Dutch apartment I’d ever seen. We listened to music, drank some more wine, and started kissing. The kissing continued downstairs in his bedroom. As i was kissing him I felt bumps on his back. I was a bit concerned, but also a bit drunk and horny. The clothes came off. Another nice (although bent), big Dutch dick. Either I’m lucky or Dutch men are packing. We discussed “gay roles”. Turns out we’re both tops. ‘Twentyeight’ asked if I’d ever done poppers. I said yes. He offered. We sniffed. Smart move. Not. Fooled around some more. Oral sex. This time I did suck. He wanted me to fuck him, he claimed poppers turned him into a bottom, but to be honest, those bumps had my usual paranoia augmented. We ended up just jacking off. He bit my nipple very hard, and then came on my chest. I came on my chest as well. He rubbed my nipple after with the cum. Crazy old me started thinking the worst case scenario: he bit my nipple, I must have a minuscule cut, he rubbed semen on it, I will get HIV. He laid on my chest for a second. He asked if I’d spend the night but both my paranoia and the fact that I was leaving next morning convinced me to leave. I got dressed. We said goodbye and I started walking back.

On my way home, I texted Geordie-mo. He managed to calm me down superbly. To quote him: “unsafe sex is like fear of flying – when I get scared on the plane I just think of the trolly dollies who do it everyday”. I didn’t have unsafe sex, but the thought was comforting. I dozed off with minimal thoughts about the evening and a nice, post orgasm smile on my face.

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21.06.2011

Grind Date No. 3: Silver Fox.

Hung over. Again. My youthful body is starting to betray me. I wasn’t feeling much like doing anything so I laid in bed and went online. I managed to score a date with a 44 year old Dutch man. I didn’t have much time till my rendez vous so I got up, got dressed, bought juice, and walked to Nieuwmarkt to meet him. He asked “how will I know it’s you?”. I said “you’ll notice the beard”. He did.

We had lunch on the ‘tourist side’, as he stated, of Nieuwmarkt. I asked him for some insider tips on Amsterdam. He recommended a few spots to check out and offered to walk with me towards them since it was on the way to his place. Sly silver fox.

First impression: very handsome, despite his slimmy aura which was only enhanced by the mismatched track suit he was wearing.

We finished our food and I followed him as instructed. We got to his door step and he asked if I wanted to see what a Dutch apartment looks like. Despite my slight fear of walking into the unknown and potentially getting gang raped by a few men twice my age, or possibly ending up in a bathtub missing a kidney and having to dial 112 (that’s Dutch for 911), I obliged.

He had a beautiful apartment overlooking a quaint canal. I could tell he had money. He mentioned he had some high position at KLM (that’s Delta Air Lines in Dutch). To my surprise, although I don’t know why, ‘Silver Fox’ played some gaga. He offered a tour of his sleeping quarters. He asked to touch my, and I quote, “hairy chest”. I let him. He kept asking me to relax. I probably looked/acted a bit tense. We kissed. He felt my dick. I felt his. More kissing. Some nipple nibbling. More compliments to my hairy physique.

We got in bed. Through it all he was respectful, constantly asking me if I was ok and only doing what I wanted to do. We jacked off. He had a significantly big dick. We came and laid there for a second. He showered. We got dressed, and walked towards his gym.

He kept mentioning how “good looking” I was and what a “nice hairy body I had”. I told him he was extremely handsome, which he didn’t seem to believe. What is it about older men not being able to take compliments from us twentysomethings? It’s not the first time this has happened to me. I feel as if they think we’re mocking them when, in fact, call me crazy but I find handsome, mature men extremely arousing.

His gym was next to Rembrandthuis. He pointed the way to some photography museum I should check out. I vaguely paid attention because, really, it doesn’t make a difference. I’ll promptly forget the route given. We said goodbye and I slowly started walking towards my destination stalling so that he’d go into his gym. I wanted to take a picture of Rembrandthuis for when I’m older and I actually care about these touristy things, but I didn’t want to seem touristy in front of him (or anyone else for that matter). He dilly dallied as well so I gave up and just left.

I found FOAM (the photography museum). It was under remodelling and only half of it was open, and thus, half price. I saw some photos of an LA artist I briefly met a while ago called Luke Gilford. It was a nice surprise.

I walked back to the hostel and stopped by a tattoo shop for my mandatory ‘coordinates’ ink. I picked up a pita and some wine and ate at the ‘lobby’. That night I did the red light district pub crawl with ‘Finland’. I was supposed to go with some Canadian staying in my room, but he seemed like quite the inferior life form. Later on I discovered my first impression was on point. I had heard not much goes on on Monday nights so I figured the pub crawl would probably be my best bet at drinking myself to sleep that night, and also seeing a part of the city tourists are ‘supposed to see’. I could elaborate on the crawl, but I don’t want to give such things more importance than deserved. It was as much fun as such things can be.

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19.06.2011

Grind Date No. 2: Antwerpen.

To start off, I want to say that I was trying to come up with a nickname for the guy and nothing really stood out. Is that a bad thing?

I arrived to Antwerp on the 10th of June. On my way there we stopped at other Belgian stations. They all seemed gloomy and desolate. I was not feeling this. But then, I saw the light. Rectangular pillars of light were welcoming the train to its final stop. It was as if we had time travelled into the future the last leg of the trip. I got out and everything was pretty and modern… and then one of the most beautiful train stations I’ve seen (personal opinion, but also, I guess this has been documented). I’d arrived in Antwerpen.

I quickly switched my gaze from the majestic building, to the locals. Most dressed in effortless fashion. I could clearly see why this is one of the fashion capitals of the world. This city was getting better by the second.

I bought some fries with curry ketchup (bad choice), figured out my bearings, and headed to the hostel. Twenty minutes later, I was at my Belgian home. The hostel had “character”. It wasn’t like the rest of Antwerp. Instead, I felt like I was somewhere in the middle east. It was somewhat run down, smokey, cluttered, and ran by a White guy and an Asian lady, both with unbelievably bad teeth, who were playing some card game and smoking a cigarette. They asked me to sit down and wait. I did. A few minutes later, I followed one of them four stories up (sans elevator, of course) to “the penthouse”. They didn’t actually call it “the penthouse”, but it was the top floor, and with significant renovations, the room could become quite nice. It wasn’t much different from the average hostel room: five sets of bunk beds, white sheets, nasty comforters, and even nastier pillows… there wasn’t, however, a locker, which is an issue being as I usually travel with plenty of valuables. I quickly devices a way to lock my bag to the bedframe, laid on the bed, and started planning my evening.

As usual per this trip, I logged on to grindr. I started talking to a few people. Within minutes I sort of had a date. He didn’t live in Antwerp, but he used to. At the moment, he lived about 20 minutes away, but he offered to come pick me up in his car and show me around. We exchanged numbers, and made plans to meet in a couple hours. I went downstairs to kill time and look up other things to do.

He texted me at about 20:30 saying he was close and for me to go outside. He picked me up in a very European hatchback and we drove to old city. We parked his car at some big theatre where he works, and walked around till we came to a bar called “delux”. It was a nice gay bar with an older crowd who immediately fixed their eyes upon me. It was somewhat funny. Me and ‘Antwerpen’ ordered drinks and had a pleasant conversation. He was very open about his sexual escapades… I wasn’t sure if he was hitting on me, gauging my reaction, or just being himself, either way it was fine.

After a couple rounds of drinks we ventured to the next destination, a place called, and forgive my forgetful brain, “hessenhuis”. This place was a bit more divey and the crowd was a bit more stereotypically gay. The music was camp and dancey. Again, I felt looks left and right. We kept talking effortlessly. I wasn’t initially attracted to him, nor was I planning on sleeping with him, but the alcohol was lessening my inhibitions, and enhancing his looks. He was approached by a handful of people, who he then told me he’d either slept with, or wanted to, or denied. I told him about ‘road head’, he told me about ‘prosthetic arm’. It was getting late and he needed to head back, so we walked to his car, and he dropped me off. I gave him a peck. Not sure if he wanted more, not sure if I wanted more, but so it was. I politely texted him thanking him for the night. We kept in touch for the next few days but I never saw him again.

That night, I got home to a mess of a hostel. One of the girls who works there, not the Asian lady with bad teeth, another Asian girl, was thoroughly inebriated, half naked, and threatening to kill herself. I tried helping the guy with the bad teeth talk some sense into her head, but it just kept getting exponentially worse. A group of Dutch kids showed up. They were young and a tad pretentious. They annoyed me. I went to bed. The next morning, same group of Dutch kids woke me up being excessively loud excessively early in the day. I didn’t get much sleep.

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06.06.2011

Grind Date No. 1: Road Head.

In my never ending quest for equal opportunity and the unique, I started my new project. Dating shenanigans indeed.

I arrived to London last Friday evening, and as soon as I got wifi I logged into every gay man’s best friend: grindr. Soon enough, after sifting through all the headless torsos, I saw a picture of a guy who looked very British and very… east London I suppose. He had a catchy headline. I sent him a message and moved on. Later that evening he bit the bait. We started chatting. At this point, I didn’t have an agenda. I wasn’t aware that I would embark of this mission, so I just elusively talked expecting nothing.

*a bit of a side note here… for all of you who have no idea what grindr is, I should explain. It is an app that shows you all the gay men around your area (granted they’re logged on as well), with distance, a picture, some stats, and a short tagline. It is mostly used for sex, but I’ve met a few friends through it.*

After a day of conversation, he told me he was in a wheel chair, and asked if that was a problem. Are you kidding me? It’s a bit odd, but it’s also writer’s jackpot, and like I said, I like to be very equal opportunity. Especially since I don’t think I’ll marry most of these guys. A few more messages and we decided to meet. I was to come to his flat on Sunday evening, we would have some wine and food (except I said I was vegetarian so the food got nixed out of the equation), and see where things went. Again, elusive little me was not thinking about sex or anything of the sort, maybe just a snog.

Yesterday evening, I arrived at my rendez vous, a 15 minute walk east of Geordi-Mo’s. First impression? Very British. Very East London. He had a beautiful black little pug named Vivian (or Viv for short) who I started playing with right away. Anyone who knows me knows that dogs come first, second, and last in my life, and will promptly hypnotise me into ignoring the world and scratching their belly.

The conversation went smooth. He got a bit touchy feely and I giggled my way out of his grasp. His p.a. (personal assistant) came out, cooked some food, and opened up a pack of smokes. I asked her for one, and ‘road head’ insisted I smoked by the window instead of going downstair with her. I obliged.

After a few more sips of my wine, I felt somewhat comfortable with this man. We kissed. He tasted a bit odd, but nothing unfamiliar. I have this theory that meat eaters have a certain ‘taste’. He suggested I smoke by the window as he smoked me. I was slightly hesitant, but again, I obliged. It was definitely a first, to have my dick sucked as I was smoking on a balcony, in plain view of the outside world. Kind of a turn on.

We went back inside and he said he wanted me to fuck him, but stated he usually doesn’t do that (normally I call this bullshit but, for some reason, my intuitive persona didn’t feel he was lying). He suggested we get in his bed and see how things go. I offered a hand, he said he wasn’t comfortable, so he asked his p.a. to help him get into bed and then she summoned me into his room. We got in the bed. Kissed. He asked me to rim him. I obliged. He was a bit reluctant to me touching him in certain areas which I assume is understandable for someone with disabilities. He rimmed me (we agreed this is probably the best part of gay sex), and asked if I could cum in his mouth. Again, I was somewhat reluctant, as I have a somewhat strict ‘no swallowing’ policy, even if I’m not the one doing the swallowing, but I felt ok doing so. I came. He swallowed. We kissed a bit more, passed out for a second, woke up, and I took off. He had a dinner with a girl, I had to get back not too late as I am staying with friends who work the next morning.

As soon as I left I received a text. He cursed his dinner and said he enjoyed the company. I got home and found a similar message on grindr. I told my story to my hosts, and went to bed. I woke up a few hours later and started writing this entry. I feel a bit odd, but to be honest, maybe it’s just a case of PCT (post coitum tristesse) and if anything, this little endeavour I’ve taken will assist with managing that. Today I’m off to Birmingham.

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Category: 50 Grind Dates