Friends | the.applied.process.

I Love New York

“I don’t like cities. But I like New York. Other places make me feel like a dork. Los Angeles is for people who sleep.”

On the day of my usual bimonthly trip back to the west coast I decided to hit the Barney’s warehouse sale with ‘Freckles’. It was disappointingly bad.

Not having tamed our insatiable need to swipe some plastic and purchase unnecessary garb, we headed uptown to the flagship so we could pay full price and feel somewhat accomplished. I had a flight later that evening and I didn’t have much time to browse properly so after a somewhat unsuccessful shopping experience at Barney’s, and still with a lingering desire for more overpriced goods, we ventured into Bergdorf’s. Jackpot. I left with two Thom Browne shirts and a slight boner. The sales associate, a B-list actor in a few of Van Sant’s movies, was cute and flirty.

We took the train back home, I finished packing, grabbed my dog, and to JFK I went sans cellphone (which I’d lost the night before). The flight was standard.

I landed at SFO at around 10:30 pm. I messaged my friends through facebook because I had managed to find a replacement phone but had no one’s numbers. They contacted me and I took a cab to the Mission to my friend ‘Chogi’s’ place. She had just moved back to the west coast from Ohio, of all places. Upon arrival, three quarters of the party (the ones with vagina and a vast knowledge of fashion) greeted me with open arms and big screams, the other quarter (the one with a dick and the palate of a chef) was already in an alcohol induced coma. Then slowly, one by one started laying down and giving in to the same fate. I was getting a bit annoyed as I had just flown in and was expecting to make the best of the briefs number of nights we would get to spend together. Somehow, someway, and with the help of ‘Reindeer’ who showed up a bit after I got there, we got them up and ready to leave the apartment at the almost useless hour of 1 am (bars in California close at 2).

We took a cab to a place called The End Up. I had never been nor heard of it, and I’ve been in San Francisco many times, but I got quick good feedback as soon as I posted my plans for the night on facebook. Upon arrival, the place was annoyingly crowded by the wrong kind of crowd. That on top of the few minutes we had left to party, and the annoyingly overpriced cover, forced us to make the executive decision to walk back, pick up some booze at the store before they stop selling (2 am… again… ridiculous), and head back to ‘Chogi’s’ so I could catch up and they could kill their second wind. Being a New Yorker (yes, sometimes I do grant myself the right to claim that title), I was fine with walking the mile and a half journey. My fellow west coasters weren’t and, although they put up a good effort, after about two thirds of the way we ran into a limo parked at a gas station and, due to the lack of cabs, I asked the driver how much he’d charge us to take us home 7 blocks away. I was ready to pay whatever as long as the complaining stopped. Luckily, he said he’d take us for whatever we wanted to give him. We hopped on the stretched white car, opened our super classy bud light + clamato cans, and poured them in wine glasses.

The ride was ridiculously short. When it dawned on us that we could pop our head out the sunroof, we were already home. Despite the car being parked, we did so anyway. One by one we all passed out. I don’t recall in which order, all I remember is ‘Reindeer’ left and, sadly, that was all I saw of him that trip.

Saturday morning we had plans to go to Napa for some wine tasting good times. Surprisingly enough we were all up and ready by elevenish. Me, ‘Chogi’, ‘Dandayamana Janushirasana’, ‘Chet’, ‘Honey’, and ‘Toto’ rode the Volvo for an hour to wine country. First thing on the list was In-N-Out so me and ‘Chogi’ could indulge in the much missed West Coast fast food smorgasbord. We stayed at ‘Honey’s’s friends’ place, the same lezzy couple who’s wedding I’d crash back in July. The locals had another wedding to attend so the rest of us out of towners just drank and hung out around their apartment as they attended their previously scheduled festivities. After a few lazy hours we decided to explore the town. We called for a cab which proved out to be ridiculously inconvenient. Apparently, you have to wait anywhere from thirty minutes to an hour for a taxi. Eventually, we managed to get to the ghost town that was downtown Napa.

We walked and walked amidst closed businesses until we found a place we’d yelped about that had great reviews. We asked for a table and went across the street to have a drink as we waited for the estimated 45 minutes till our table was ready. In reality, it turned out to be more like an hour and a half. The food was good but not great, the service sub par but it got a bit better towards the end. With our bellies full and with hopes to party like only me and my Californians know, we tried walking back until we either found a cab, or a bar, but preferably both, neither of which were miles to be seen. Napa sucks.

Since all of our brilliant minds were together, we devised a plan to go to the grocery store, buy bottles of our favorite flavored drink (in my case ginger ale), and a bottle of vodka, make some road sodas and walk the 2.1 miles back to ‘Honey’s’ friends’ chateau. At first the Californians argued with me, God forbid they walk anywhere, but eventually they realized, like most of us New Yorkers do, that we don’t need no car or public transportation when we have a healthy pair of legs. Despite a couple detours and getting lost for a second, the walk home was fun.

That night I was really tired and somewhat drunk. I believe most of them stayed up chatting and drinking. I grabbed my cuddle buddy ‘Toto’ and dozed off on the couch.

Early Sunday morning I woke up and skyped with ‘Twentyeight’, one of my 50 Grind Dates. I’ve been keeping in touch with him because I want seconds, and because I find him very attractive. He definitely left a lasting impression. Then I skyped with ‘Jose Maria’ who was still in Greece on holiday but was about to come back to New York. Everybody started waking up. I said bye to my skypees and planned the rest of the day with my non virtual buddies. We went to Whole Foods to grab some pre-made goodies to eat and some vodka and 5 different kinds of olives to make our own bloody marys. Brunch at its best.

After showers and more laying around my best friend, appropriately nicknamed ‘The Wife’, showed up. Her parents, who live in the bay area, dropped her off very Middle School style. We all eventually left for Hess winery. Being one of the most sober ones (if not the most), I drove one car and ‘Honey’ drove the other one. The winery had an amazing art collection. I am not the biggest Rauschenberg fan, but there was one very colorful and very flat piece of him that I loved. Sadly, our day had started late so we only had half hour to walk around the gallery, and half hour to wine taste. Regardless, it was fun and relaxing, as I’d expect it to be.

We drove back home and finally agreed on what tattoo we’d all get. We’d been toying around with the idea to permanently mark our “friendship” on our bodies. The first thought was to get the word “Love” tattooed. I of course almost threw up. The idea evolved from “Love” to “Phylia” to “Love” in Braille. The efficient ‘Chogi’ found and contacted half of the only two studios that were open and available in that ghost town, and we walked right over. Coincidentally, it was a couple blocks away from the restaurant were we’d dined the night before. The “artist” wasn’t ready, so we went a couple of blocks more east to have a beer and some Mexican food. An hour later we returned. The first time under the needled gun was ‘The Wife’ who, in her very usual fashion, decided to fuck any plans we had and scribbled down the word “Love” with her own handwriting and got it tattooed near her wrist bone. After we all saw how pretty it looked we decided to get branded by her design. I, of course, still reluctant to have such word forever ingrained in my epidermis, came up with the brilliant idea of getting it etched on my ass. I figured it’d be funny and ironic. The rest of the tattooees got it either in the same spot as ‘The Wife’, or in the case of ‘Chogi’ and ‘Honey’, they reverted to the original Braille idea. All in all a fun experience. The tattooist, although a bit sketchy, was a really nice guy, who had now become part of the “pact” we had all partaken in.

We left the tattoo shop at around 11:30 pm, packed our bags back at the lezzys’ and drove home at midnight. It was a bitch of a ride. I drank some energy shot and drove for the first half of the trip with ‘Dandayamana Janushirasana’ keeping me company. We woke up ‘Chet’ and ‘Honey’ to pass the baton. She fell asleep, he drove the rest of the way down, I kept waking up every so often worried he might doze off and we might all end up sleeping with the fish (or in this case, since most of California is milk farms, cows).

Finally, after an exhausting seven hour drive, the sun had come up and we were back in LA. We all passed out almost instantaneously.

A few hours later, ‘Dandayamana Janushirasana’ woke up and went to work. Me and ‘Chet’ lingered around for a bit. He finally agreed to cater to most my needs and drove me to pick up ‘Talent Waster’ so we could all eat some delicious fish tacos at Rubio’s, one of the only reasons I really miss California. We then drove to buy some much needed and much cheaper cigarettes. We showed off our tattoos to ‘Talent Waster’ and she implored we get one with her as well. Despite the fact that I wanted to go to LACMA to see the Tim Burton exhibit, I gave in to my addiction and agreed to get inked for the 23rd time right before I had a dinner date with ‘T Rex’, an old teacher of mine who I briefly dated after I finished college. We googled and yelped our fingers away trying to find a spot that was both reputable and had a very low minimum because we didn’t want to pay 80+ bucks for such tiny tattoos. Our search ended when we discovered a place not too far from ‘Chet’s’ place. Being LA, we drove the less than a mile walk.

The place was empty, as expected on a Tuesday afternoon, but the staff seemed really nice and welcoming. I was the first to go. This time, the marking in question was the word “black” in Braille. I am not sure what the whole obsession with Braille is, but I liked how it looked. I got it injected on my chest. Up next ‘Talent Waster’ got “Love” in Braille on her arm, and ‘Chet’ got the same right under the handwritten version he’d just gotten done the day before. We dropped ‘Talent Waster’ off at her place and I said good bye for the last time in a while. My lovely friend had decided to leave everything behind and head to the land down under in search of new experiences. Although I’m a bit pissed at her for doing so instead of coming to New York, this is one of the reasons why I adore her and I wish her the best. Besides, I’m sure she’ll come around to her senses and move to the city I love.

On the way back, ‘Chet’ dropped me off at a random intersection where I met up with ‘T Rex’. He looked different. A bit more haggered, a bit more heavy, still somewhat attractive. I think that New York has raised my standard and given me a new appreciation of beauty because I used to find this man absolutely stunning. We went to dinner at a Mexican spot next to the bar we used to go to all the time. It was incredibly pleasant to see him and catch up. I could tell he still had a thing for me. In our usual manner, we drank and drank and drank. An hour and a half later, we went for one last round at the aforementioned bar, and then we walked back towards his car and ‘Chet’s’. I had to catch a plane in a couple of hours. On the corner where we logically had to part ways, we said goodbye, I gave him a peck, and walked buzzed back to my friends’.

My last few minutes in California outside LAX were sappy. The people I’ve met there are probably the hardest thing to leave every time I go back. Despite the fact we see each other regularly, it never gets old. I packed my bags, grabbed my dog, said good byes, and got driven by ‘Honey’ to the airport. I got there at the right time, unfortunately, my plane didn’t. My flight was delayed an hour and a half, and that was just the beginning of my 12 hour long return back home… completely worth it but so annoying that I don’t even want to write about it.

“Other cities always make me mad, other places always make me sad. No other city ever made me glad except New York. I love New York”

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10.09.2011

Right as Rain

“Who wants to be right as rain it’s better when something is wrong. You get excitement in your bones and everything you do is a game. When night comes and your on your own you can say i chose to be alone. Who wants to be right as rain it’s harder when you’re on top.”

Tuesday night I had a date with ‘Nickle’. We decided to meet at Fatty Crab because it’s one of my favorite restaurants, he’s never been, and it’s such an atypical date spot (very messy, hands-on, stinky southeast Asian cuisine) that I’d been wanting to take someone there. I’d been getting in date mode lately so after a good session of bikram, I showered, dressed up trendy, yet classic with a denim shirt, caramel leather belt, black skinny jeans, and chucks (yes, that’s me actually meticulously dressing up for a purpose), and smoked a cigarette as I waited for him to pick me up at 9pm outside my apartment.

Upon his arrival I noticed he too had taken the time to dig out the cologne from the back of the bathroom cabinet and iron his shirt, which he paired with some fitting blue jeans, and some purposely scuffed brown leather boots. He greeted me with a kiss and stated “I didn’t bring you flowers but I brought you…” as he handed me a bouquet of my personal favorite sour candy. He was aware I preferred sour over any other type of sweets, but not that this specific kind were my Kryptonite. I promptly digitally documented his deed and uploaded it to facebook. We took a train to the meatpacking.

The meal was very pleasant to say the least. The food? delicious, the conversation? effortless, the man? an absolute gentleman. He kept yearningly admiring me with such an honest stare that I felt both marveled at and respectfully undressed. Upon the end of dinner, the cavalier refused to take my card and paid for the more-expensive-than-average check. If I had known, I wouldn’t have ordered that second cocktail. I took this opportunity to suggest we grab a drink after since I felt somewhat in debt. He obliged.

I took my paramour a couple blocks away to Le Bain. To his expected unimpressed eyes, I had us breeze through the crowd and skip the line. Despite admitting to have wondered about it after watching the structure being erect over the highline, he’d never been to the rooftop before. It was the perfect continuation to an ideally perfect evening. We consumed a few libations, discussed New York architecture, and introduced him to a few familiar faces who later jealously congratulated me for my envious catch. We left after two drinks and took the train home. The plan was for the evening to come to a close but we spontaneously decided to get off at 1st ave and walk to Phoenix for the alleged last night it was to be open before its new Lesbian owner turned it into a lezzy irish pub (so the rumor says).

We didn’t stay long either. A drink later we were back on the street walking towards the subway. As a rule of thumb, I try and avoid the trains after 11:30 pm because they can take long enough for my usually inebriated patience to sit and wait. Luckily, that was not the case. We got off at our Brooklyn stop and walked past the bar we usually go to. We ran into a couple of his friends and decided to join for last last call. The boy and the girl aforementioned both took me aside separately and questioned my intentions with their friend. They stated the obvious: he’s a nice guy, he really likes me, they haven’t seen him this happy about someone in a while. I responded in agreement to everything they said: he’s a nice guy and I do enjoy the time we’ve spent together. After a couple more drunken interrogations from his keepers me and ‘Nickle’ parted ways. I had to work. He had to wake up in a couple hours and drive upstate.

Wednesday morning I woke up excited for work. It was the first time in a month that my boss, ‘The Cock of the North’, was back from vacation and I was excited to see him again. The man is more of a friend than an employer. Work went by relatively fast. I went home, did my usual 30 minute post-work duties and headed back to the city for dinner with friends at Buvette in the West Village. Despite all of us being utterly late, we enjoyed the evening. I often fail to notice, but I am pleasantly surprised how I am often the common denominator in these gatherings. All the people there know each other and casually hang out, but originally they met through me.

After dinner I left them and went to my Wednesday midnight mass. The night was methodical: same faces, same routines, same ending. I do not mind it, in fact, it’s part of the reason why I’ve made it part of my weekly schedule.

I ended up at The Cock with DJ & co. and later DJ & I ended up leaving together. Again, somewhat methodical: no sex, no fooling around, just plain cuddling. We did have a very interesting conversation about “out relationship” as he put it. Turns out, we’re both on the same page. I mentioned my date with ‘Nickle’ from the night before and running into ‘Handsome Wednesday’, he mentioned a similar instance with a hurricane Irene date. We teased each other and uttered the word ‘Paranoid’ to one another and went to bed.

Thursday morning I hurried home, took a shower, gossiped a bit with ‘Freckles’ (who’d been staying at my place) about my night with DJ and went to work. The usual.

My plans for the night were reserved for ‘Freckles’. We did yoga together for the first time, took showers, ate some food I made, and met up with ‘John G’ for some cocktails at Metro. I spent most of my evening impolitely talking to friends I ran into, but at the same time, my two add-ons were chatting with each other so I didn’t feel that rude. A long ago hook up, ‘Big Clay’, was there sans boyfriend. We talked for a while as I watched him getting progressively more incoherent. He’s known to be a bit of a lush and a big time drinker. ‘John G’ went home, me, ‘Freckles’, and ‘Big Clay’ left for Union Pool as I had promised her I’d take her somewhere straight so she could forget about her recent fall out with her beau. We ordered more drinks which only aided in making ‘Big Clay’ pretend to be bi for the rest of the night. He continuously kept hitting on ‘Freckles’ and then on me. I have to admit that although I am not attracted to ‘Big Clay’, there is still that feeling of “the one that got away” every time I see him. I know it’s pointless and I don’t encourage it but, for some reason back when I was younger, I really liked him. Maybe it is the fact that I was young and less jaded and fell for anything that would give me head. We decided to call it a night and walk home.

My “been partying for a few years now” self is not as patient as it used to be so despite the fact that I noticed ‘Big Clay’ stumbling his way home I was determined to go to sleep. Being an alcoholic myself I am quite confident in others’ ability to find their way back; ‘Freckles’, on the other hand, didn’t seem as certain and, after watching him ring on two doorbells right next to the bar and squint to try and make up if either of these was his apartment, suggested we take him home. I unwillingly obliged so we hailed a cab and dropped him at the corner of his block. Again, she didn’t believe he could make it so she got out of the cab and walked him home. I am aware of the dangers that come with leaving completely plastered people out to fend for themselves, but sometimes they need it. I finally caught some Z’s well past 4am.

Friday work. Still not being used to people paying for me whilst on a date, I had told ‘Nickle’ I’d take him out tonight my treat. The plan was to end at Momofuku, but he first suggested I meet him at a bar near Astor Place where his friend was working. While I do enjoy all the perks that have come with this new found relationship, I’m beginning to think that he might be a bit too much of a drinker, which would not be a problem, except I am too. And while this is all fun and he’s by no means an aggressive drunk, he sometimes is a bit sloppy. Regardless, I was thirsty and I did as instructed. Anxiety. Four or six drink/shots later, we left his friends and walked to the restaurant. No luck, it was packed. He suggested we walk to a noodle house he said he’d been to before instead and we ended up twirling and twisting ropes of doughy goodness on our chopsticks and into our bellies. Whether he had planned for this or not I am not sure, but my time to pay for dinner ended up being significantly cheaper than his, which I wasn’t too happy about.

We went for a nightcap at Phoenix then, strangely enough, to Ten Degrees. Anxiety. We tried taking the train but it was out of service so we hopped on a yellow cab back to my place. Apparently, I passed out of his lap on the way home. I also lost my phone, which I didn’t realize at the moment, but did so the next morning. We fooled around in my living room not caring that ‘Freckles’ might be coming back from her date any time. I switched to this recent Machiavellian mood that I’ve been having and proceeded to indulge in the idolization I was receiving. After I had my fix, I suggested we go to bed and sleep, and did so almost immediately but not before we fooled around a bit more. I am not certain for how long, but I do remember hearing ‘Freckles’ come home.

The next morning we finished what we had started. I enjoy the fact that this man has a very sexual appetite in the mornings because I usually do too. He started fondling my genitals till I finally woke up from my half asleep state and reciprocated. I came first, he followed. He’s noticeably loud when he does. I giggled at the thought of ‘Freckles’ hearing us not because I mind, but because she might find it funny. We walked our naked asses to the shower and washed away the gunk that covered our abdomens. We all had brunch at a spot a couple blocks away. Right after, he went his own way, and I started my long list of tasks before I left for California later that night.

I’m enjoying these two “relationships” that have sprung up on me. I am treading carefully. I am taking everything and everyone with a grain of salt. I am not letting myself get carried away by the same dumb emotions many seek and let themselves be blinded by. I am proving to myself and others two things: that while LOVE might actually exist, it is harder to find than we’d like to admit, and most of us never truly do find it, so why bother? And also that this whole idea of having to end up with someone in order to have an accomplished life is ridiculously outdated. I refuse to give in.

“Who wants to be riding high when you’ll just crumble back on down. You give up everything you are and even then you don’t get far. They make believe that everything is exactly what it seems, but at least when you’re at your worst you know how to feel things.”

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30.08.2011

Seventeen

“They only want you when you’re seventeen…”

So our dear Irene (the hurricane) ended up being all talk and no action (at least in Williamsburg). As you are all aware, according to Bloomberg et. all, we were expecting a natural disaster in the likes of the second coming of Christ this past weekend. Instead, we got a mild tropical storm that left us stranded, because of complete MTA shutdown, with our apartments chock full of unused non-perishable items, and, if you’re anything like me, enough alcohol and cigarettes to start our own after hours speak easy. Never the less, I had a fun, crazy weekend.

It started Friday night. After work, despite being a bit worried that I hadn’t prepared at all for the upcoming natural catastrophe, I had plans to go to a BBQ in the Upper West Side with ‘Nickle’ and his friends. I’m usually not a big of a fan of BBQ’s because of my dietary restrictions. I always find it difficult to eat because, even if I get vegetarian options, the grills are usually lacquered with animal fat and I get really grossed out. That night tho, I decided I’d just let the cook do the cooking and look the other way.

He came to my job with a coworker and we walked to the Spring A train to go uptown to 86th street for the little soiree. We purchased some red and some white and a bottle of coke (per my suggestion) to make some kalimotxos, that’s basque for red wine and coca cola. I managed to find some veggie patties to grill and we went up to ‘Nickle’s’ friend’s rooftop. Everybody I met was in their thirties. Some of them were really nice, others it took a second to warm up to, but all in all they were pretty welcoming. They seemed like a very tight knight group. ‘Nickle’ kept asking if I was alright. I was. I am very good at making good first impressions and at socializing with people from all walks of life. Within minutes I had them inviting me to future road trips, rooftop parties, and birthdays. Nothing about the BBQ really stood out, other than the views. The party was fun, but around 10ish I told ‘Nickle’ I was going to leave. He decided to come with.

The plan was to take a cab back to my place so I could feed my dog and then head to a bar nearby. We were both very drunk. When we got to my apartment we decided to stay in and sleep. Some time around 5 in the morning we woke up and fooled around. Although I did give him head, I was a bit paranoid about the whole thing. I have no idea what goes in my head, but there’s very little I can do about it. God knows I try. This time we both came. He was aiming for my penis as I was about to ejaculate when I stopped him. Like I’ve said before, I don’t feel comfortable with others swallowing my load because, although I know I’m clean, it just makes me think that they are comfortable swallowing other people’s that might not be. Furthermore, I wouldn’t return the favor and I don’t like doing things I wouldn’t do too. I passed out with the thought of getting up early and preparing for our friend Irene’s arrival.

I woke up around 9 and so did he. We laid in bed for a bit cuddling. I really enjoy doing so with him, except the damn hurricane was all I could think about. We got up, got dressed, got vitamin water, and got out of my apartment. He asked me if I wanted him to come endure the storm with me later. I said sure.

I hurried to the grocery store list in hand hoping to still find supplies for the next few days. On my list: dog food, beer, wine, cigarettes, coconut water, vitamin water, bread, tuna, peanut butter, a hand can opener, cash, paper plates, and water, in that order. That shows my priorities. I managed to get most of the things and get home safe in time for the rain to start. I wasn’t sure how to feel or what to expect. I certainly have never been through a hurricane (ok El Niño back in the 90’s, but I was too young to realize the magnitude of the situation), and after the unexpected earthquake (which turned out to be nothing), I was sure anything could happen.

I wasted most of the day making funny “Irene” jokes on Facebook, planning hurricane parties, and watching Mad Men. At around 5pm, ‘Latin T’ messaged me to come join him and his really nice friend (who I really like) for a drink. Realizing that the damn hurricane was nowhere to be seen I biked over to his place. It was a different change of pace. I didn’t feel like I was meeting him for any specific agenda. It was more like meeting a friend, and I like that because that’s where I want this to go. He seems lonely, and I’m a sucked for stray dogs.

We had a couple of beers at his apartment and then headed to Union Pool. I didn’t stay long. I was feeling a bit like a third friend wheel. I left and texted ‘Nickle’.

After a very wet and windy bike ride (Irene was finally approaching), I met him at The Abbey and had a few more drinks with him. We were hanging out with his friends and some really annoying Caribbean Hispanics of dubious sexual preference I wanted to assassinate. One of them asked me for a twenty (money), the other one unbuttoned his shirt and was getting aggressive. I’m not sure which was worse. I was supposed to meet ‘Fixie’ but he’s been somewhat flakey lately so I just decided to have fun with ‘Nickle’ and let him be him. Me, ‘Nickle’, his amazing Irish friend, and the man she picked up left the bar and went back to my place for more drinks. We hung out for a beer’s time and she left with her beau du jour. ‘Fixie’ texted me and ended up coming over. We watched True Blood and had more beers. ‘Nickle’ was wasted and I kind of wanted to have a chit chat with ‘Fixie’ so I send him to bed and stayed up for a bit longer. I passed out on the couch but woke up at around 7am to ‘Fixie’ watching documentaries and Irene in full storm (literally). My windows were leaking. I was too drunk to care so I tucked ‘Fixie’ on the futon and went to bed.

At some point in the morning ‘Nickle’ tried to fool around with me. I was still drunk and too tired so I played possum. I am not sure what it is about him or how I feel towards the man. Sometimes I really like him, sometimes I’m slightly turned off, sometimes I just don’t know. We woke up at around 11 in the morning to no signs of the damn hurricane. With mild winds and barely any rain outside yet gorgeous cumulonimbus clouds, we decided to grab some brunch. ‘Fixie’ went in search of some tail, we met ‘Nickle’s’ friend a block away and walked to Five Leaves, which was closed, then to Enid’s, which was a giant mess, and back to Walter Foods on Grand St, which was also not happening. We ended up at a local sports bar asking for a hurricane (the drink, not Irene), but we got slightly laughed at so we settled for a beer. We then crossed the street to go to Lodge for some food. After a 45 minute wait I was gobbling up a vegan BLT and my second bloody mary.

With our stomachs somewhat satisfied, we continued our search for Hurricane Booze. We ended up at Metro where we finally were granted the privilege to savor the fruity (both literally and figuratively) drink. Just like Irene, it was anticlimactic. We reverted to beers. A couple of drinks later we left and went to Macri Park (the bar, not the actual green triangle) where we had yet more brewskis and a shot of whiskey. It was almost time for True Blood and I was planning my escape when friends of ‘Nickle’ suggested we join them at a Greek bar a block away where they were playing the show. We joined.

Sometime mid episode, I started receiving texts from the cute boy (‘Young Seth’) I had met last Wednesday who I let go because I spent the night with DJ. ‘Young Seth’ was at Metro. My inner drunk, greedy slut lied (yes! you heard me right!!!) and said I was going home. Instead, I walked around the block and back to Metro I went. I had a couple of drinks with ‘Young Seth’ and left. He invited himself over but changed his mind because he was going to wait for his Australian friend. I walked home a bit more drunk enough to not feel ashamed of my actions.

** Not to make excuses here but, this is not typical behavior for me, nor do I condone it, yet I don’t feel too bad about it. I think it’s because, really, other than, yes, lying, which is never good under any circumstance, I’m not doing anything terrible here. I’m single, I haven’t set labels or anything with any of these men, and I am free to do as I please. Chances are, some, if not all of them, are doing the same thing. It’s New York, we are young, we are gay. Simple algebra would explain this mathematical equation. Furthermore, I’m honest about it. I’ve told them I’m going on other dates and, if questioned further, I will gladly go into details. I have nothing to hide. **

I was planning on calling it a night and watching TV when ‘Occhio’ texted me saying he was back at Metro. I put back my clothes on and out the door I went for the third time that day. Yes, I have no shame. I hung out with ‘Occhio’, his female friend, and his gay coworkers. ‘Young Seth’ was still there. I divided my time between both posses and proceeded to make out with the latter. As if two boys weren’t enough, I got a text from ‘Fixie’ asking if I wanted to hang out and rewatch True Blood. Naturally, my answer was “yes”. ‘Young Seth’ pointed out the fact that I was texting ‘Fixie’. Did I miss the memo here? Since when is it a crime to text friends when out with other friends (because, really, that’s all I could call ‘Young Seth’ at this point). I didn’t acknowledge his stupid inquiry, and changed the topic. He left shortly after saying that he’d love to come over but he didn’t think it was such a good idea. Again, when was it part of the deal that he’d come spend the night? Besides, we had a date the next night.

I went back to ‘Occhio’ and co. They were talking to some local straight dude and his gay Chi town friend visiting. The Chicagoan was not my type by any means. He kind of reminded me of Jeremy Renner. However, there was something attractive about him. I think it was his very masculine demeanor. After a bit of chatting, he blatantly asked me if I wanted to go back to my place and play. I was a bit tempted because of my drunkness, but I told him I had a friend coming over and Bro’s come before Ho’s. He didn’t understand at first but, eventually, after I kissed him (don’t judge), and gave him my number (out of drunken pity), he left defeated. ‘Occhio’ asked me if he could spend the night, which was fine. I went home, ‘Occhio’ walked his lady friend to her place, and said he’d meet me later.

‘Fixie’ was waiting outside my place. We went upstairs and drank more beer and watched more True Blood. He mentioned he’d seen ‘Nickle’ at the corner store. I assumed he was at our local bar, so I went downstairs to the deli for some food, and walked over to said bar while I was waiting. He was there smoking outside with some friends. I said hi, invited them all over, and went back to pick up the sandwiches I’d purchased. ‘Occhio’ arrived at my place. We finished watching TV and me and a naked ‘Fixie’ went to bed. Thankfully, ‘Nickle’ never came.

Monday, all my guests left to their respective workplaces. I dilly dallied a bit, cleaned my apartment, went to yoga, and met ‘Young Seth’ for our “date”. We started at a local Thai place I’d never been to. The beginning of the date was almost a great as the food. This one seems very sweet and young, yet a bit innocent. Almost a bit too innocent for a jaded guy like me. All I kept singing in my head is Taio Cruz’s catchy “Break Your Heart”.

We left the restaurant and discussed where to grab our next drink. We nixed Metro for fear of running into other people we might know and settled on Phoenix because it was the second to last night till the place regretfully closes. Before heading over, we made a pit stop at my place so I could change into a more weather appropriate shirt. The summer has almost abandoned New York.

We had a couple of beers at mine, and watched the A-List. I could tell he would’ve been fine with staying there and fooling around, but I wasn’t sure where I wanted to go with him (yes, I have a conscience and I’ll kiss a thousand boys, but I try not to sleep with many, especially simultaneously), not was I nearly sufficiently drunk to not care, so we left for the East Village.

Phoenix was nice. Luckily, or unluckily, depending on how you want to look at it, since the bar was closing all drinks were two for one. We started with ginger (whiskey for me, vodka for him) cocktails. The ethanol was working its magic on us and eventually we started kissing. I do fancy this one, he seems sweet, nice, cute, and a potential good relationship. However, like I said before, I don’t think I want that. I am not there right now and I will probably just “break his heart”. I said hi to a few familiar faces. I could tell the whole time he was wondering what I meant by “friends” and “I know him”. All I can say is he needs to change his outlook because I was once there and it does nothing but make you go crazy to think that way, ESPECIALLY in this city. For the record, one I fooled around with months ago, the other I was meaning to fool around with but never happened and now we’re just friends, the last I’ve never felt any desires to do so.

We left after about four drinks. I was feeling a bit “in the mood” and asked him if he was coming over. He said he had to get up quite early but was thinking about it. I clarified there’d be no actual sex. He gave in.

The night was good. The boy is handsome and has a nice body. No, he is not ripped but, to me, a nice body means someone who obviously cares about their physique, yet doesn’t obsess over it, and is not going to be staring at the mirror the whole time we’re fucking. We fooled around for a long time. He gives good head, and even better anilingus. The thing about young boys is that they’re so willing to please their older counterparts. Sometimes I take advantage of this. I was quite tired and drunk so I suggested we finish off. With a tongue up my ass and my hand on my cock I did so at the same time he did. I passed out almost immediately.

I woke up a couple hours later to him getting up. I went to the bathroom to wipe my own dried up genetic material off my chest, and asked him if he was alright. He seemed a bit frantic and said he was leaving because he was afraid he wouldn’t wake up in time for whatever it was he needed to do that morning. I was a bit annoyed because I thought that was typical young guy behavior. They lack etrickquette. I smoked a cigarette, watched from my window as he walked to the train, and went to bed.

This morning I woke up and nixed yoga. I was a bit too hung over. I took my dog to the vet for a travel certificate, went for a mani and a pedi, and came back home to write and work a bit. I was texting with him for a bit. He apologized and asked what my schedule was like for the next week. I assume he wants to see me again. I also talked to ‘Nickle’. I have a date with him tonight. What can I say? A few of my older European friends have always told me I am an attractive, young, fun, and somewhat successful guy, and I should take advantage of that while I can. I find it hard to disagree.

If Helen Marnie’s words are true, I should enjoy it because I won’t be able to later… “when you’re twenty-one, you’re no fun”.

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26.08.2011

Take it east (Love nothing)

“Don’t take it too bad it is nothing you did. It’s just once something dies you can’t make it live”.

Wednesday night I slept over! I feel accomplished yet meek. I’ll backtrack a bit. I did bike ride to sushi. I had all sorts of raw sea creatures and some beer all by myself just how I like it. It brings me back to my days living in LA when I would go alone to Little Tokyo, order enough sushi, sake, and beer to feed a small Japanese village, and then bike home and pass out. At around midnight I headed to the bar. I smoked a cigarette outside before going in and met the usual familiar faces. I walked in and ordered a beer (that was my mood for the night). I proceeded to say hi to DJ who didn’t give me my usual peck, instead we just acknowledged our presence. I left him to his own turn table devices and walked back to the bar to talk to two guys who had hit on me the moment I got there. One of them, the ugly one, was being very annoying touching my beard and asking for my phone (the actual gadget, not the number). I politely excused myself and his friend, the cute one, apologized.

I finished my drink and went outside to have another cigarette and call a friend. I called ‘Dandayamana Janushirasana’ to discuss my upcoming California trip, talked for two smokes’ time, said hi to another familiar face, and went back in. I ordered a second beer and sat by the bar talking to some young, ugly, rich fatty who seemed nice but I could tell he was miserable. He struck me as the guy who doesn’t know how to socialize and relies on his wealth and connections to try and entrance others into liking him. I am sorry but wealth will never be what gets me. I was all by myself and bored so I gave him the time of the day for a bit. I kept staring at DJ off the corner of my eye. He wasn’t his usual self. I excused myself and went to the bathroom.

On my way back to the bar, I ran into another familiar face, some attractive guy from grindr who had sent me a very nice full frontal of himself, and who I’d met a few weeks ago through DJ. I approached him and stroke up a conversation. His boyfriend joined (yes, he has a man, no, that didn’t stop him from sending noodz). It was all around nice. We went outside to have a ciggy and ran into this other boy I kind of have been obsessed with for a long time. I introduced myself pretending I vaguely new who he was (in reality, he might’ve popped up once or twice in my head as I was busting a nut). We went back in for more drinks.

DJ was being a bit more attentive. I saw him make out with some random guy by the bathroom. Later he came over to talk to me. The guys I was smoking with were all nice. We talked a bit more and one by one they disappeared. I went outside to have another smoke.

Throughout the whole night, black dude from last Friday was lingering around the bar. I said hi to him, it was a very: “I know you and you know me and we’ve both fooled around with the same guy, but that’s OK, I (me), unlike you, do not care because if I want to, he’s spending the night with me” exchange of politeness. I wasn’t keeping tabs on him, but I believe he left at around 3am. I somewhat remember him saying goodbye.

I went back inside and noticed a cute boy staring at me. I ordered a drink and approached him pretending he was a friend of a friend (who is actually a friend of mine, but who’s really paying attention). He invited me to sit. Him and his Australian friend were nice. I could tell he was into me. DJ’s make out buddy was nowhere to be seen. I went outside with new boy and he suggested we go home together. I kind of really wanted to so I went back inside to tell DJ I was leaving when BOOM! who’s pussy whipped?! that’s right. ME! DJ suggested I come over. I went outside and told cute boy I had to stay with my friend who needed to talk and made plans to see him next week. JESUS CHRIST! what the hell?!

** side note: I am going to try and rationalize this. I think I stayed for many valid reasons (or at least I’m trying to convince myself they are): DJ is a safe lay, way safer than a complete stranger; I wanted to prove that neither black dude nor other dude would leave with him (why the fuck am I this territorial! I guess I don’t care what he does when I’m not there, but when I am, I somewhat do? especially if I know I’m way better looking than the other options); DJ lives a few blocks away, cute boy lives somewhere in south Brooklyn; I biked and I had to work the next morning, it would be easier to get to work from DJ’s; I wanted to see if I could do a two night in a row situation with him. All in all, I think that, although they might seem like stupid reasons, they somewhat make sense, and also, leaving with cute boy would’ve been something I did just to show DJ that me coming to his party does not mean me sleeping over. Who am I!? **

I went back to DJ, we finished drinks and went home. No sex, just cuddle. I liked it.

Thursday I woke up and got ready. DJ invited me to go see Cat Power with him that night. Three nights in a row?! I don’t think I’m in Kansas anymore. I told him I had to hang out with a friend (‘Fixie’) so I couldn’t. It was raining outside. I biked to work and ended completely drenched. The day was slow. My dear ‘Fixie’ flaked on our bike riding plans because of the rain so I texted DJ and asked him if he still wanted company. He replied: “I’d love to”.

After work I biked to the west village, met him and his best friend for a nice pescatarian dinner, and then we biked to Webster Hall. I was a bit annoyed that DJ charged me for the ticket. I am aware he is Jewish, but the thing about me is if you’re not stingy with me, you get the world in return. Naturally, he gave his best friend a ticket for free. The show was amazing. Her voice is surreal, and other than the masses of lesbians (nothing against them), and boys who looked like lesbians swaying back and forth with their eyes closed, I had a good time. Me and DJ were acting disgustingly cute and lesbiany. Yes, for a second there, I was holding him from the back and we were swaying. I laughed the whole time in my head.

We left before the encore and walked towards the gym where his best friend had left his stuff. We picked up the bag, kissed goodnight, and biked our separate ways. Did I want to spend the night again? Maybe, but I don’t think for the right reasons. It would’ve been just to prove to myself that I could, and that would entail neglecting my puppy, so I made the conscious decision of not even trying to suggest it. I texted ‘Fixie’, per his suggestion, to see if he was down to meet me for a drink. It was around 11pm, and he never replied. I went home, bought some beer, delved into the various social media, and passed out around 3am.

Today I’ve been making lots of jokes about the hurricane. I don’t know why, but I love the fact that everyone in New York is so jaded that they find it funny and find it a reason to party. Me and ‘Fixie’ already have something in mind for the weekend. I haven’t talked to DJ. I don’t know what’s going on, again, I’m just going with the flow. Tonight I have a date with ‘Nickle’. We are going to his friends’ place in the Upper West Side for a BBQ. We will see how that goes. All I want to say now is that last night I was having a bit of anxiety about this whole situation. I don’t like the feeling of losing control. I was listening to music and I remembered who I used to be. I will try to refocus on that.

“Now I do as I please ~~and lie through my teeth~~, someone might get hurt, but it won’t be me. I should probably feel cheap but I just feel free.. and a little bit empty. No, it isn’t so hard to get close to me, there will be no arguments, we will always agree, and I’ll try and be kind when I ask you to leave. We’ll both take it easy.”

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24.08.2011

Where I’m going…

“Take my hand if you know where I’m going through, take my hand if you know where I’m going”. The blog keeps taking better form as the days go by. Today I will, as usual, talk about the past few days which have, just like the blog, been taking better form.

Sunday I started to work all by my lonesome self. The day was going slow until my good ol’ friend ‘Occhio’ showed up with sour candy (a personal addiction of mine). He very often visits which is why I’ve given myself the liberty to bestow upon him the title of “Unofficial Honorary Intern”. There wasn’t much to be accomplished that day so we just hung out, skyped with ‘Jose Maria’, and caught up. I haven’t been hanging out with him as much as I used to.

After work I went home and he went to hang out with his other friends. I didn’t have many plans for the night ahead other than watching True Blood, but an acquaintance of mine (‘Jay & F) who I had sex with a while back texted me saying it was his last night in town and he was going to Gansevoort. I told him I’d meet him there. I texted a couple of friends and hopped on the L towards the meatpacking. The party was not very happening. The boys were not my taste. My mood wasn’t exactly the best.

I ordered a drink and searched for ‘Jay & F’. He didn’t seem as friendly as I had expected, maybe he had that bit of post coitum awkwardness still lingering around. To be honest, I didn’t think much of the time we had sex. We were drunk and that was it, I’m not really into him nor was I at the time, but maybe for him it was different. He IS a bit younger, and he acts more like your average gay. I pretended not to notice and proceeded to talk to him and introduce myself to his friends, all Chelsea boys. They were all a bit stand offish. I suppose that is the case when they meet a fag who doesn’t share their aesthetic beliefs of “perfect” ripped bodies, and thorough manscaping. One of his friends, an Asian gay of deceiving age who happened to work with ‘John G’, kept hitting on me and touching my lips over and over saying they were amazing. I acted evasively coy.

I texted ‘ John G’ to see if he was coming. He said he was on his way and would arrive in half hour. We all ordered more drinks, I smoked (none of them did), and we talked more about what we did and where we lived. Again, God forbid the socialize with anyone living east of Union Square, north of 59th, and south of the numbered streets. They all finished their drinks and left. I smoked another cigarette and waited for my friend.

Lately, I’ve been enjoying more and more ‘John G’s’ new outlook on life. He used to be way more negative and antisocial. I attribute most of his recent change to his new job. I think he was miserable in previous work environments. We talked about Grindr, and how he’s now on it and enjoying the good and the bad that comes from it. I reassured him that, as long as he’s smart about it, it’s a fun way to meet guys whether they end up being friends, fucks, or life partners. One last drink and we were out. He wanted to go to Cielo and, although I was a bit skeptical due to my first bad impression of the place (see previous post about my crazy night at ACE hotel), I agreed. I’m all about not letting bad experiences leave me with sour tastes.

Cielo was stupid. We paid a five dollar cover and it was somewhat empty. We ordered a drink and danced for a bit. I was somewhat drunk. I spotted a cute boy who I decided I’d talk to. He turned out to be German, what do you know? He wasn’t interested. I was a tiny bit. I didn’t want to drink more and was looking forward to my bed so I suggested we have a last drink and go home (my way of saying: “hey, I’m bored, but I’m wasted so let’s grab one before we hit the road”, usually this goes way better than being: “let’s leave”). I chugged the diluted concoction and headed for the door.

On our way to the train we thought of the magnificent idea of getting some taco bell to reminisce our Southern California days (that’s where we met). We walked all the way to Union Square but it was closed. I guess we forgot we weren’t actually in California. He asked if I wanted to go to another bar, but I politely declined and hopped on the train back to apartment. Time to cuddle with the pup.

Monday I did nothing for most of the day. I relaxed and had a chain smoking, pup cuddling, Mad Men marathon. I made some delicious pasta with fake meat sauce and mozzarella sticks. I texted a bit with DJ and mentioned I might be going out in his neighborhood later that night. I took a nap and woke up around 7. In a moment of pure drive, I decided to start doing yoga again. I got in my skimpy dolphin shorts, flip flops, and tee, swung my mat across my shoulder, and walked to my old studio. Note to self: DO NOT EVER stop doing yoga on a regular basis. I almost died. It was not unbelievably hot or anything in particular, but I suppose I was really out of shape. For the first time ever, I felt dizzy, had tunnel vision, and took a break between poses. Somehow I survived and rushed home to watch the A-List.

A friend of mine who bartends at Phoenix had suggested I stop by because the bar is closing soon and I haven’t seen him in a while. I skipped the A-List, showered, and headed to the East Village. The bar was kind of empty but nice. I ordered a drink, he gave me a shot and a beer. I ordered another drink, he gave me another beer and another shot. I was pretty drunk. I met some familiar faces and some short guy, ‘Claude’, who looked very much like my friend’s ex (except my friend’s ex is straight and lives in LA). We started talking and he asked me if I wanted to go with him to Eastern Bloc. I hadn’t talked to DJ, and I didn’t really feel like going there with someone else because I know a lot of the people there and I just wasn’t comfortable, but I did. The place was also empty. Saw a couple of familiar faces, ordered a drink, and got another one for free. ‘Handsome Wednesday’ was there. Coincidentally, he was talking to DJ on grindr. For a split second I wondered if they’d fuck. Just for a split second.

‘Claude’ suggested we go to a karaoke place and have a bottle of champagne he would buy. I agreed. We walked back towards Phoenix and ended at some tacky place I always see and wonder who actually goes there. Now I know. He knew the bartender. He asked for the bottle of “champagne”, which actually turned out to be really cheap Prosecco. We had a glass and he sang a song. He had a nice voice. I am not quite sure when the night took a wrong turn but somehow I ended up outside smoking a cigarette being lectured on my rudeness. Apparently, without my knowing, I was being impolite for going on Grindr (which I did when I was at Eastern Bloc talking to Handsome Wednesday looking for friends), and he was not going to sleep with me. I honestly missed the memo that said I was on a date and that I was planning on sleeping with him. I wasn’t opposed to it, but that was definitely not my intention. I left and sent him a message on Grindr (yes, he was on it too!) saying: “honestly you got me so wrong”.

Tuesday morning my dog cuddling, chain smoking, Mad Men marathon continued. My productive day started a bit earlier tho. I went to yoga at 4:30 pm. It was not as bad as the day before. After sweating my sins out I went home, made food, and continued my morning activities. DJ texted me saying he was in Brooklyn with his best friend biking and asked what I was doing. I replied: “to be honest, I’m naked laying in bed, smoking a cigarette, and watching Mad Men”. I wasn’t trying to be flirty. He asked if I wanted to join them and then maybe grab some food. I said yes, threw some clothes on my stinky, salty body, and went downstairs with my bike.

The ride was nice. We rode all the way to the water on the Greenpoint side and then back to Williamsburg for some delicious Mexican food at Mesa Coyoacan. To say they loved the food is a understatement. DJ’s friend already went for more today (according to Facebook). We rode back to my place where they dropped me off. Me and DJ kissed for a long time. I told him I’d text him later if I was in the city because I had plans to meet with a girl I went to elementary with later that night. I took a shower and off to Le Bain I went.

The Standard was packed. It was a The Blonds party which, frankly, I could care less. I met my “friend” there, she looked like what I would expect her 12 year old self to look 14 years older except for her voice, which was terribly similar to the way Mexico City Preppies talk. I guess I shouldn’t be THAT surprised, she does come from money, but she’d fled the country way before I did, so I expected her to be significantly more whitewashed than I am. Despite us never having a close relationship, she seemed very happy to see me. She was there with her friend who was, in fact, a Mexico City Preppy. We promptly exchanged stories, where we’ve been, what we’ve done, where we’re going. It was a nice encounter. I remember back in elementary I used to think she was really cool. It was satisfying to see that now it was the opposite. I stayed with them for two drinks’ time. I texted DJ to see if he was still up. He was. I asked if I should come over, he said: “yes but we’re only cuddling”. I am not sure how I felt about this but it seemed a bit odd. Last time we spent the night together he wasn’t his usual ass eating self, and now he was saying this?! I mean, I don’t mind it at all because half the time I’d rather cuddle than fool around. Less anxiety the morning after, but still… my worse case scenario self made me think there was something more severe. It turned out he’s just had a tummy ache for the past few days. I bid my new friend goodbye, and cabbed it to his place.

Upon arrival, we got naked and did just that: cuddle. It was short and sweet. We tried watching some TV but surprisingly enough I was sleepy without being wasted. We slept naked waking up a few times to switch spoon positions. I slept for 10 whole hours. What the fuck? is all I have to say about the night. It was nice but very different in all aspects. I woke up, he offered to make me food (eggs), but since I don’t partake in eating chicken fetuses, I thanked him and declined. I got dressed and walked to work.

I’m having a cigarette right now. I just got home from yoga. I’m going to take a shower and bike to get some sushi, and then to my usual Wednesday spot. Will I go home with him again? Honestly, I don’t know. That would be two nights in a row, and is that really where we are? I’m not going to think about it too much. Tomorrow I’m meeting ‘Fixie’ at my work so we can bike back to Brooklyn together for some dinner, drinks, and whatever else.

“Take my hand ’cause I know what you’re going through… Half the time I had no way of knowing…”

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20.08.2011

Oh What a Night!

As expected, DJ biked over to my work about 15 minutes before I closed shop to drop off the shorts I’d lent him on Thursday. I was quite sure that he was coming towards closing time so we could hang out after although he hadn’t mentioned that. Naturally, my intuition was right again. He asked me if I’d eaten and, although I sort of had a late lunch, I said I’d go with him to get food. We walked to La Esquina for some chicken soup, tacos, rice pudding, and jamaica water. Sometime towards the end of our meal New York decided to throw us a thunderstorm. It was kind of cute to be stuck inside the restaurant with him waiting for the rain to dissipate, or at least slow down. After about 20 minutes it was somewhat manageable so we kissed briefly (what is up with me and PDA’s!?), he biked back to his place, and I took the train home. I was going to see him later that night while he DJ’d at Metro.

I got home and felt sick from overeating. I hung out with my pup for a bit, went on Facebook, wasted time, and watched Mad Men (I just realized it’s now on netflix instant watch!). I texted a few friends to come to the bar with me but they either didn’t reply or had prior engagements. One of the frenchies said he’d meet me at some point. I walked over to Metro at around 11:30 pm.

As I’ve mentioned, I’ve been on a Beyonce binge for the past week. I’d asked him to play some bey bey for my insatiable ears. Coincidentally, as soon as I walked in Beysus was blasting on the speakers. I went to the DJ booth and gave him a peck. He gave me a drink token. Some of his coworkers from his Wednesday gig were there, the very handsome bar back, and the somewhat bitchy (or so was my first impression, which later changed) good friend. I chatted with both for a bit and then shimmied myself through the crowd for a drink. I spotted ‘Fixie’. He was there with his new/old beau. I gave him a hug and said hi to both of them. It stung a bit, but no biggie, I had my own dick waiting for me behind the turntables. I told him about the recent events regarding DJ to which he replied: “you’re dating, I don’t care what you call it, you’re dating”. I giggled and proceeded to order my whiskey ginger.

For some bizarre reason, Metro was more than usually chock full of familiar faces. I don’t even know where to begin but, grindr gays, friendly gays, traveling gays, neighborhood gays, work gays, you name it, they were all there.

I walked back to the “VIP” area, and hung out with the Wednesday boys. They were hating on my neighbors, but to be honest, I get it. I joined in. We were trying to figure out why I didn’t get the memo that Friday was “wear your polka dot shirt to Metro” night. And just as we were commenting on the fashion choices of my fellow billyburgians a black dude wearing a camp shirt and a bow tie walks up to our spot. He looked vaguely familiar. I left with the Wednesday boys to go outside for a cigarette. More familiar faces.

As I was finishing my smoke, frenchie called me from outside the subway stop. I walked over to meet him and buy more cigarettes. I also bought peach o’s for DJ (it’s his guilty pleasure). I texted DJ from outside the bar asking if black dude with bow tie was same black dude that was at Gansevoort a couple of weeks ago when he was djing there. He replied: “ugh, yes!”.

We walked back to the bar and I gave DJ his petite cadeau. He looked at me with his ever so charming sad puppy eyes. I pecked him again. I entertained frenchie for a bit till he left after two drinks and four cigarettes. I was a bit conflicted about how I felt about frenchie, but he’s a really nice guy and I like him a lot as a friend.

The Wednesday boys had left, so it was just me and black dude. I alternated between hanging out with DJ, getting drinks, and smoking a cigarette. I kept a constant one drink/one ciggy pace for most of the night. I was outside to smoke trying to talk to some cute boy I’d seen on Grindr when some creeper tried to creep up on me. He kept complimenting me, and at some point asked me for my number so he could text me later that night to see what I was doing. Sorry boy, I don’t do shorties with shiny lips (I think he was wearing lip gloss) who look like they “party”.

I went back inside. Black dude was busy vogueing. Some dudes were dancing by the dj booth. One of them asked black dude to dance, to which he said: “I don’t dance”. I switched to bitch mode and said: “I’ll dance with you, and weren’t you (pointing at black dude) just dancing too?”. I wished ‘Jose Maria’ was there because he would’ve thoroughly enjoyed the spectacle. Black dude looked confused. It’s a bit ridiculous how clingy he is. Knowing DJ, he’d have better luck acting nonchalant and talking to other boys than just hovering him like a vulture hovers a brand new carcass. DJ played me some Taio Cruz.

Handsome Wednesday came back. I hung out with him for the rest of the night. He is really nice. I discovered that, just like me, he likes dirty looking boys. I was a bit drunk by this point and a bit confused. I wanted to hit on Handsome Wednesday, but I also felt the need to mark my territory. I am not sure why I felt this way, I certainly had no reason to worry. I was completely sure black dude was going home by himself. Me and Handsome Wednesday sent DJ a cute pic of us making a sad face because he wouldn’t play some Britney. One thing led to another and I stayed longer than I’d expected. The last song was playing, which wasn’t Britney!, so Handsome Wednesday went home. Black dude realized his defeat and said goodbye to DJ. I stayed with him for a bit till we both walked out ensemble.

We discussed spending the night together but we both had things to do early in the morning. He didn’t want to come over so he asked me if I wanted to go to his. I said I would but I needed to stop by my place for some clothes first. He apologized for black dude, saying he was sorry he wasn’t all over me but he didn’t want to be rude. I completely understood. It’s a funny thing how, in a way, I feel a certain level of security about what we have. I like it. We realized that sleeping together (and considering how tired and tipsy we were, we would’ve done just that: sleep) was a drunken and more complicated task than it needed to be so we kissed, he cabbed it home, and I walked to my apartment. He instantly texted me saying he had a good time. I replied the same. Five minutes later, I sent him a message on Grindr saying: “Come over!!!!!!”. I was joking.

I went to bed at around 5 which I regretted this morning. He had asked me if I wanted to hang out tonight but I told him I had a date. We’ll see what happens after.

The day has been slow. I talked to ‘Mexican T’ today. He’s still crazy. What is it about these boys? Wish I knew… Gay men are so fickle.

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19.08.2011

Family, Fuck Buddies, and Fuckin’ Beyonce!

Monday night my sister had a layover in Newark and missed her connecting flight to Spain. For some bizarre illogical reason my parents asked me to book her a room at a nearby hotel room rather than her taking a cab over to Brooklyn and sleeping at my place. She wasn’t leaving till the next day at 9 pm, but apparently, common sense doesn’t run in this family. I thought it did. I downed a few buck-a-piece PBRs and forgot about the situation.

The next morning, I get a call from her saying she’s coming to New York. I tell her to take a cab. Five minutes later she calls me back saying she’s taking the train because they told her a cab would be $120. Again, I know she’s never been to New York, but she’s well traveled, how the hell does that make sense?! A cab to and from Newark is never more than four Jacksons ($20 dollar bills for my international readers, although I’m quite certain that most Americans don’t know that either). Regardless, I headed to Penn Station to wait for her. I called her as soon as I arrived. She hadn’t even left Jersey! I wanted to shoot myself because, if you know me, you know how impatient I am especially when it’s about common sense situations. She finally arrived, and we started the day.

** side note: me and my sister don’t have a close relationship at all. On the contrary, we never talk, and it wasn’t really till she turned 18 and I was 23 that we begun to barely hang out. Before, we just didn’t. Furthermore, I would probably drown in roll over minutes if her number was the only one I could dial. I know I’m like that with my parents, but not as severe. It is not that I don’t love her, it is just how we grew up. Regardless, just like my friends, the moment I see her it’s like I saw her the day before. **

My 5-hour-first-time-visitor-quick-tour-of-New-York started with a walk through the sea of tourists that is Times Square. I’m not sure if she was afraid of what I would say or if she just didn’t care, but she did not ask to stop for a photo op (thank GOD!). We just swam through the crowd and boarded the 50th street 1 train uptown to Columbus Circle. I pointed out the city’s top restaurant (according to the S. Pellegrino’s World 50 Best Restaurants) Per Se, she’s a chef so she likes these things. We strolled through the park till we arrived at 5th ave. I showed her the now under remodel Apple store. She wanted to buy some shoes so, naturally, I took her to Bergdorf’s. No luck. Then we walked to Rockefeller Center, went to the top floor, and took pictures of the view which, to me, is the best as far as rooftops in New York go.

We carried on with our shoe hunt, which lead us to Saks. She found a pair of Choo Shoes she liked but they weren’t available in her size. We walked to the Choo shop, but it was closed. Finally, we headed towards the 6 train and stopped at Bloomingdale’s where she purchased some cute Prada flats. We got on the train and off at Grand Central Station. She took a few pictures and ended up at the Bar à Huîtres indulging in some oysters, mussels, clams, and crustaceans. We had a nice chat about my dad’s crazy and annoying family.

Her time was running out. I took her to my apartment really fast so she could see my dog and some of Brooklyn. We didn’t stay long. We headed back to the city and ate a lite early dinner at DBGB because, as I stated, she’s a fan of certain chefs, in this case Daniel Boulud. The food was nice. I called her a car and off she went on a $58 ride back to Newark. I haven’t talked to her since.

I went back to Brooklyn and ended up wasting time till I met ‘Fixie’ for some Criff Dogs and drinks. We biked to a couple of bars ending up at Metropolitan. A couple acquaintances of him were there. We chatted with a guy I find attractive but happens to be a male hustler (probably subconsciously why I like him). He was there with two of his friends from Wisconsin. To say they were all odd is an understatement. We decided to leave after 2.5 drinks and some awkward conversation. I was going to ask him to come over, but he had plans so we said goodbye. I went home alone and slightly sad I didn’t get to sleep next to him. I still like him a lot.

Wednesday I worked. It was a very very long day. I received a message in the morning from a friend of a friend back in LA who happens to live in New York. I had messaged her months ago before I moved here because my friend had said we’d get along. After almost a year she finally responded. She was having her birthday party at some karaoke bar in Korea Town. I told her I’d stop by for a bit, but I had to go to my “Wednesday Religious Service” at 11ish. After work, I went home, took a half hour nap and called ‘The Lady of Derbyshire’ to come with to watch drunk Asians sing White songs. The girl who invited me was really nice. Another girl I knew from back home was there. I don’t know why that surprised me. The Koreans, just like the gays, all seem to know each other.

The crowd was very young and kind of annoying in a “I’m no longer in my early twenties, but they are” kind of way. Birthday girl was complaining about turning 24. We left after two beers and four songs. I walked ‘The Lady of Derbyshire’ back towards her place and my train. I was asked for a cigarette by this crazy black woman (I am not trying to be offensive here, she really was black. That was a joke BTW). I gave her one, then she asked me for a lighter. I didn’t want to give her one because she looked crazy and a bit dirty so I said I didn’t have one. She got mad and ripped the cigarette to pieces in front of my eyes. I was shocked and I wanted to scream: “Bitch you know how much cigarettes cost in New York?!” but I didn’t because she was scary. I got on the train and headed to the East Village. I was on a mission.

The train was running express from Union Square to Brooklyn Bridge so I got off and walked to the bar. I didn’t have to work the next day. I was intending on spending some quality sexy time with DJ. The bar was nice. I got free drinks and socialized with the regulars. Sometimes you want to go where everybody knows your name. DJ was there with two Spanish friends who were a couple in an open relationship (shocker!) and spoke very minimal English. Per his request, I entertained them. I could tell one of them was into him. I kissed DJ and went outside with the Spaniards to smoke un cigarro. They decided to leave so they went inside to say their goodbyes. The younger of the two made out with DJ in front of me and his beau. Again, I did not care. I hung out with DJ some more and kissed him again. I like that he’s always telling everyone how cute I am. He said he liked that I had manners a.k.a. I was ok with him kissing others. I told him it was fine. I think I kissed someone too that night. We made out in the bathroom. His coworkers made fun of us. His friend was staying over so I suggested we go back to my place. He agreed. We left close to 4am and cabbed it to Brooklyn.

He’d never been to my place. We kissed and fooled around a bit but nobody came. My dog was acting very crazy and I was a bit paranoid that DJ was gonna be annoyed. As I told him, he is a JAP. He proudly admitted he was. We woke up around 8. His initial reaction: taking a couple of seconds to realize where you are, was hilarious and familiar. I’ve been there. We slept a bit more and woke up again at 11. I offered to get him a smoothie when I walked my dog. He suggested we get brunch (another first for us). I lent him some shorts to spare him from the walk of shame as he was wearing some tight zebra print biker shorts. We walked to DuMont for some eggs in his case, and gazpacho and a salad in mine. He was acting very cute. He said he never stays over at other people’s places nor does he seem them in the daylight. I am not sure what to make of that. I liked it, but at the same time it was a bit outside my comfort zone with him. I think he likes me likes me. We talked about boys in a very unconventional way. I think most guys would not be comfortable conversing about other sex partners and dates with the guy they just slept with. It doesn’t bother me.

He went home right after. He said he was djing near my apartment on Friday so I told him I’d stop by and pick up my shorts. He said he could maybe stop by my work on Friday and drop em off (another first!). We kissed goodbye. I’m starting to like this whole making out right outside the train station situation.

I went home and purchased Beyonce tickets. I wrote on the blog, cleaned up a bit, ran some errands and took a nap.

At around 7pm I headed to the Meatpacking to meet up with my friend friend who was to be my “date” for the show. We ate at The Dinner and cabbed it to Roseland Ballroom for, as I stated when I checked in, “the OTHER black party”. I don’t think anyone got my joke on Facebook. The show was amazing. I love Beyonce and, although I wished she’d performed more songs off “I Am Sasha Fierce”, I was quite pleased. “End of Time” and ” Countdown” sufficed.

Regretfully, she didn’t do an encore. We left the show and he cabbed it home. I cabbed it to the Lower East Side to meet up with the Frenchies and ‘John G’, who was pissed because they wouldn’t let him in to The Box. If you ask me, who cares! I hate that place. The Frenchies stayed at The Box and I walked with ‘John G’ to 2nd and 2nd. We had a couple of drinks at The Cock. The bartender, also a bartender at Eastern Bloc, gave me a free drink. We left promptly.

I drunkenly texted DJ to see if he was up. He didn’t replied so I took a taxi home.

I woke up this morning and got ready for work. It’s been a slow day. I’ve been on Facebook and writing on here for the past 5 hours. DJ hasn’t come. For some bizarre reason I’m really enjoying my life right now. The anxiety is still there, but I’ve had a different take on the situation. I think I have a lot to be grateful for. I think I’m gonna go to San Francisco for labor day. I think I’m gonna see DJ again tonight. I’ve also been giggling a lot. That’s that.

EDIT: DJ just texted he’s coming over in 20 minutes. HA!

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16.08.2011

Untitled.

Friday night my heart wept. It is a pretty bold statement, I know, but I felt something I have not felt in a really long time. I am not sure how descriptive I will be. It is not my place to divulge what made me feel that way, however, I will try my hardest to speak honestly, respectfully, and most important, focusing on my self, rather than others. For these same reasons, I will refrain from using my usual nicknames, and resort to using other signifiers to refer to people during this entry.

I left work with a friend quite late. I received a text message from one of my best friends/a guy I like (we’ll call him A) saying to come over to our other friends’ apartment. It is hard for me to even type this because it is not my place to even talk about this, but just like he likes doing things, I’m just going to rip the bandage. He was diagnosed with a terminal illness. He told me the moment I got to my friends’ (B and C) place. I felt dead for a split second. Someone had just casted a dark cloud above me and I was in the middle of dense fog not knowing what to do. I have not felt that way in a really long time, and as a matter of fact, I can almost say never, because the reasons why I’ve felt like that in the past are not the same, therefor it’s not really the exact same feeling.

The first thing I did after snapping out of shock was to give him a hug. Like I said, this is a good friend, who I’ve hugged time and time again. This did not feel the same way. It reminded me of a dream I had once right after my best friend of my teen years committed suicide. In my dream I was in a white austere kitchen sitting across a small round table from him. I was asking him why he was leaving, and he said he had to. I asked when he’d be back. He answered never. He stood up and I hugged him. I kept telling him this wasn’t real, and that he was going to be back. He, with a very stern look, kept repeating he had to. He then walked out the kitchen and I woke up. I felt unbelievably sad. I’m used to waking up with a deep sadness or anxiety, but this was different. I felt the exact same thing when I was hugging my friend on Friday night. That feeling that you don’t want to let go because you feel it might be the last time you get to hug someone. It sounds very tragic, his prognosis is good, and he’s not going anywhere for a really long time… in fact, I joked that he’d probably bury me before I bury him… but still, there’s no words to describe how one feels initially after hearing such news.

The night was tender, to say the least. We tried joking about it, his spirit was still there, playful and always positive… yet somehow a part of him was now aware that, although we’re all going to one day die, it’s not something we think about until we’re faced with an actual reminder that we’re far from invincible. My dark gloomy cynical self felt like an average human for once.

I was still in shock. We played some games and then decided to go out per his request. He wanted to go out dancing. Regretfully, our other friends decided to stay in. I have big qualms with couples because they turn into assholes. I am about to vent. I don’t give a shit if you’re happily married/partnered or whatever the fuck you choose to call yourself, friends are friends and when they need you, especially in times like this, that trumps everything! It’s one thing to be dumb and pathetic on a regular basis and party poop every weekend, that’s fine, you’re lame, but I can somewhat get that. However, in situations like this I don’t give a fuck what your excuses are, you don’t support? you’re worth shit to me. Then again, that’s probably why I’m not in a relationship. I believe in giving the best of you whenever it needs to be given regardless of the situation, and in this case the “situation” is you’re partnered and tired and feel like cuddling and calling it an early night, because tomorrow you have shit to do a.k.a gardening or whatever dumb shit couples do. I have no sympathy. Sorry, I know! Run-on sentence.

I very proudly went to a bar with my friend and was willing to stay out for as long as he needed me to. He spent the night and I hugged him to sleep.

The next morning I woke up and got him a smoothie. I went to work and he went shopping. He needed to distract himself. He met me at work for lunch. We hung out for a bit and he went home. I was not on top of my game. All I kept thinking was about him, and I was being sporadic and scattered brain as I am now as I type this.

After work, I went home, fed and walked my dog and then met coworkers for dinner. Dinner was ok. I was not in the mood for it, but I made the best of it. It was a bit too SoCal straightness for me which is normally not an issue at all but, like I said, I was not in the right mindset. I had promised my friend I’d go dancing with him, so at around 11:30 pm I excused myself, left some cash on the table and took off. I met the same 3 friends from the last night at some bar. We had a couple of cocktails, and then B and C started bitching about going home. I didn’t even bother on wasting energy on arguing, my energy was actually being focused on the person who needed it. In the end, they ended up coming.

We walked to my apartment through the monsoon that hovered over Williamsburg. We had a couple of drinks and a quick dance party at my place and then we went to an actual dance party a few blocks away. We got completely soaked. Me and A took our shirts off and acted like fools. We danced, made out, drank, and smoked. I just wanted to make sure he was having the time of his life.

We didn’t stay long. We all left after about half hour and walked to get some pizza. I didn’t eat and neither did A, so we just opted to go home, shower together, and go to bed.

Sunday morning I went to work and A stayed at my place. We made plans to meet for the movies after I got off. He came to my job around 4 and me and my coworker ended up closing shop half hour after. We walked in the rain all the way to Union Square to kill time and get him food. We then purchased a bottle of Honey Jack Daniels and went to watch Captain America. The movie was good but not great. We finished 3/4 of the bottle.

After the movie and with a decent buzz we bit farewell to my coworker and walked in the rain (again) to 14th street where we took the train to south Brooklyn. A invited me over to his friends’ apartment for dinner. We had a very nice conversation and he thanked me for being there for him the past few days. I’m not sure I’m doing the best job, sometimes I don’t know what to say or I say the wrong things, but I think he appreciates the company and attention. The dinner was nice. His friends were nice. We had more drinks and he passed out on their couch. I left and went home a bit sad.

I’ve been a big mess. I don’t know where my head is. I love him as a friend and he’s made me rethink lots of things. For instance, I have always wondered if I’d ever date someone with a terminal disease. It involves lots of care, responsibility, and time. He made me realize I pretty much could. I care deeply for him and, although it hurts, I would gladly do it again. It’s been two nights since he’s been here and I’ve done nothing but been miserable thinking of him the whole time. I want him next to me. I want to hug him. I want to make sure he’s alright. I know that’s my biggest issue. I tend to maybe avoid my issues by focusing on others. I can’t help it. I’m downing yet another glass of wine, after four previous ones and about four beers. I don’t know what to do or how to feel. All I will say is: I wish I had no heart.

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15.08.2011

Let the good times roll!

When I arrived, ‘Siouxsie’ was standing by the curb outside the Delta Airlines Terminal 3 at JFK. She was looking tiny and cute as always wearing black, her color of choice, from head to toe. Her petite frame was looking all over the place for me until I informed her I was parked right behind an orange sports car. She thought I would come pick her up via subway. No. I don’t do subways to New York airports.

She got in the hybrid car and gave me a huge hug. This girl is one of my oldest friends and whenever we see each other it’s like we saw each other a few hours ago. We drove back to my place through horrendous traffic (by my new New York standards, because in LA this would’ve been a breeze). She dropped her bags off at my place and we headed to Wild Ginger for some good ol’ cruelty free early dinner. The food was tasty, and the conversation even tastier. We finished and went back home to decompress before hitting the streets for her first night in the Big Apple (btw she told me why NYC is referred to as the Big Apple, turns out they used to have horse races here and the winner would get a big apple, thus it became known as the city of the Big Apple).

First stop: Drop Off Service in the East Village for drink with a friend of her ex. No, it wasn’t awkward at all. We didn’t stay long, I had been invited to a house party at the Frenchies’ place, so we left after two drinks. We met up with ‘Jose Maria’ and headed to their midtown apartment. Parties at their place are not very… typical. They usually involve a cosmopolitan punch bowl, and about a dozen French speakers doing just that: speaking in French. Regardless, it’s ok, I don’t mind starting the night there. ‘Sandpaper’ was there. He tried to talk to me but I casually ignored him the whole time. He texted me a picture of myself he took on one of our “dates”. I didn’t reply. I was done with him. When we left he said he’d never see me again, I said: have a safe trip.

We cabbed it back to Brooklyn. I met up with ‘Fixie’ and his friend at Metro for a quick drink. He was there with some really nice simian looking boy. I think ‘Jose Maria’ and ‘Siouxie’ were somewhat annoyed at me because I was paying so much attention to him, but my infatuated heart paid has stopped caring. We all left to Alligator Lounge for some free pizza but there was none left, so we ended up eating noodles down the street. ‘Fixie’ was drunk beyond bike riding capabilities so his simian friend and I dragged his tattooed ass and bike back to my place where he would unwillingly spend the night. ‘Jose Maria’ left without saying a proper goodbye. We all went to bed.

Saturday morning I woke up and got smoothies for me and ‘Fixie’, then I left him and ‘Siouxie’ and went to work. Apparently, he stayed quite late talking to her. Me and ‘The Lady of Derbyshire’ met ‘Siouxsie’ after work and we unsuccessfully tried to go see the Alexander McQueen exhibit. The waiting line was a ridiculous three hour long. I’d seen the show, they were hungry, we were impatient so we nixed the museum and went to dinner in the UES at some very tasty Mediterranean restaurant. We then cabbed it down to ‘The Lady of Derbyshire’s’ place for some rooftop cocktails but since it was raining, we just watched Ponyo, Party Monster, waited for ‘Jose Maria’ to meet up so we could head to Brooklyn. It was ‘Jose Maria’s’ last night in the city before our month long vacation. He was going to Greece.

Our first stop was Union Pool. We didn’t stay long, just a drink or two’s time. We left for Sugarland. We weren’t drunk enough to handle the crowd or the music so after less than half hour ‘Jose Maria’ went home to finish packing. We went to The Abbey for a night cap. I met a very handsome thirty-something with a very pecuniary last name. We made plans to meet for drinks in the following weeks. We left the bar and went to sleep.

Sunday I worked. I left somewhat early and went home. ‘Siouxsie’ had a list of bars she wanted to check out, most of which did not sound appealing to me, but I was willing to oblige. I took us to my obligatory pseudo conjugal visit at Gansevoort. I said hi to DJ, gave him a peck, and left promptly. He wanted me to come over later that night, but it didn’t end up happening. We walked to some other bar on ‘Siouxsie’s’ list off West 4th but somewhat thankfully, it was closed. I took her to Cubby Hole for some lezzy lovin’. Peculiarly enough, Jerry O’Connell and Andy Cohen were there. We didn’t stay long either. We finished the night at Hogs and Heffers.

Monday we had a day trip to Sleepy Hollow planned. Yes, it’s a real town, and no, I didn’t know it existed till ‘Siouxsie’ pointed it out. In the morning, I had a slight freak out when I convinced myself I had some sort of STD because it tingled down there. I quickly started taking antibiotics and the “symptoms” went away. On the train ride to Sleepy Hollow, I saw a picture of the girls at Hogs and Heffers doing their bar top dance. I apparently blacked out because I had no recollection of this. ‘Siouxsie’ pointed out that I passed out on the cab and somehow miraculously woke up just in time to give the driver the final directions to my place. I love my resilience.

Sleepy Hollow was interesting. It was very small and charming, in a very… creepy horror B-movie sort of way. We had a picnic at the cemetery and walked down the headless horseman bridge. We had some shockingly good food at a local restaurant off the river. We headed back home. We didn’t go out that night because we had big plans for Tuesday, so we opted to rest.

As planed, Tuesday we woke up, rented a bike for ‘Siouxsie’ and started our trip from Billyburg to the Upper East Side. The day consisted of The Met, picnic at Central Park, MOMA, and chinatown with a quick stop at my hairstylist’s to get a nice trim before Fire Island on Thursday. Sadly, New York chose to rain on our parade, and we found ourselves stuck inside The Met trying to wait out the crazy thunderstorm outside. Eventually, we decided to buy 10 dollar Met grey ponchos, and bike back. Twenty blocks later, we gave up on biking and caught a train home. I had to cancel my hair appt.

That night, we ventured to the tourist ridden Times Square to watch The Addams Family musical (starring Brooke Shields). The play was amazing. Way way better than what I had expected. We went to dinner at Fatty Crab (for the third week in a row!). I think ‘Siouxsie’ enjoyed it. Sometimes it’s hard to read her. Le Bain followed. Again, I was skeptical to whether or not she was having a good time, but a few cocktails later and once we were sitting by the hot tub I realized she was. Le Bain has a weird hypnotizing power over most people, whether it is the views or just the debauchery that goes inside, it always brings out the crazy in its attendees. I tried to convince ‘Siouxsie’ to get in the pool, but despite wanting to, she said she didn’t trust herself enough to go in and not get a little frisky. We left the club and went to sleep.

Throughout this whole week I’d been dealing with anxiety over my crazy sex night a few weeks ago, and the whole alleged STD I thought I had wasn’t helping so I decided to go to the Free Clinic that morning and get tested. I texted my coworker to let her know I was coming in a bit late. The clinic was, as usual, a bit weird. Everybody there is just silent and looking at each other wondering what the outcome of the visit will be for the others. Thankfully, I left with a negative smile. I then cabbed it to the Lower East Side and got my haircut before going to work. I made a sale that day, which only added to my long yet, as my friend described, “awesome” day.

Wednesday night me, ‘Siouxsie’, and two friends went to dinner at the magical Mesa Coyoacan. It is one of my favorite restaurants in New York. As expected, everybody was pleased with their food and their drinks. We walked off the food coma and ‘Siouxsie’ decided to stay in for the night. I went to Eastern Bloc by myself. I saw DJ and brought him some Peach Oh’s. I called ‘Dandayamana Janushirasana’ and talked to her briefly. I feel like it progressively takes longer and longer between our chats. I went back in and met some boy off Grindr. He was cute and Dutch (which, because of previous experiences, had me wanting to see more). I had a couple of uneventful drinks with him and headed home. Anxiety on the way back.

Thursday I took the day off. Me and ‘Siouxsie’ took a very long and exhausting, but incredibly fun and beautiful trip to Cherry Grove in Fire Island. Knowing it was a bit of a treck, we unrealistically had meant to leave by 10 am but we actually left more around noon. The trek, as I stated, was long. We took the subway to East New York, transferred to the LIRR to Jamaica, then to Babylon, then to Sayville, then a bus to the ferry, then a ferry to the island. On the last train there, I felt this very handsome older gentleman with a Louis Vuitton x Takashi Murakami Monogramouflage Keepall, and a white Rick Owens sleeveless tee staring at me. Yes, I notice these things, and no, it’s not for signs of money, it’s for signs of style. I was acting like I didn’t register his undressing gaze, but being 100% sure he’d be on Grindr, I logged on. I was right. His profile said: “Coming to an iPhone near you” to which I replied: “or an Android”. When we got to the ferry, he replied. He acted like he didn’t know who I was and said: “are you on the same itinerary as me? you look familiar”. I told him: “yes, you were staring at me the whole way”. We started talking and it turns out although he was going to Fire Island, he was going to the fancier, more Chelsea-esque side. We kept grindng back and forth from the top deck of his ferry to the top deck of mine. It was cute. I learned he was German and in town for pleasure, but he comes back often, so I gave him my email and we decided to keep in touch for future visits.

I had never been and had no idea what to expect. A part of me thought it was going to be a big gay smorgasbord of naked drug boys and girls. It turns out, Cherry Grove is not the Fire Island Pines. It is where the gays go to retire, so instead we found ourselves surrounded by people who could not only be out parents, they could be our grandparents. It was very cute.

We had some fried sea food at one of the maybe 5 restaurants there, then laid on the sand enjoying the mild sun rays (yes! I actually said “enjoying”). The weather was perfect. The view was interesting: lots of sagging skin and salt and pepper hair with the occasional gym going nudist. I am not trying to be mean here, I am just reporting what I saw. I did not mind the crowd, they were all nice. If anything, I felt like they minded me, but not because they weren’t nice (because, again, they were), but because I felt like I was invading their untainted virginal haven.

After the beach, we explored a bit. I was curious to walk through “the woods” where, allegedly, men fuck in the bushes. The whole idea sounded interesting to watch, but not to participate. I got bug bitten so many times I can’t imagine being able to concentrate in the sexual tasks at hand. ‘Siouxsie’ was being antsy and restless (as usual), so we walked back to the dock to try and catch a ferry back. It turns out, ferrys come every 2 hours so we ended up going to the nearby bar to have drinks till it was time to board.

We met more nice homosexagenarians and some not so nice younger gays. We left the island at 9 pm and, after another long trek, got home at around midnight. For her last night, I took ‘Siouxsie’ to The Woods. Despite her not wanting to, I had to have her take a pickleback (for those of you who don’t live on the east coast, a pickleback is a shot of whiskey chased with a shot of pickle juice. Absolutely delicious!). Although she won’t admit it, I’m pretty sure she loved it. We had some tacos in the back and left the bar. We made a pit stop at my friend’s apartment who had invited us to Westway. We declined the invite because we were spent from our long beachy day. We went to bed shortly after that.

Friday I worked, she packed. She met me at work around lunch time for her last pie of her trip at L’Asso, which I happen to consider the best, if not top 3, pizza in New York. We said our goodbyes and back to suburbia she went. I got back to work and made plans for my evening. Not having ‘Jose Maria’ around is somewhat of a task, because usually he’s my default alcoholic, but for the past week or so I’ve been having to get creative. It’s not that I don’t have more friends, it’s more that now I have to actually make “plans” and juggle them around to see what sounds more appealing that night. And juggling I did… without knowing that that night my perspective on life would be indirectly severely shaken. I’ve been quite sad all weekend.

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07.08.2011

A new exercise in quick entries: part deux.

Let’s not waste words on pointless intros like this one and cut right to the point.

Wednesday I worked. The boss has been out of town and so for the next couple of weeks I’m the big man. It was a very productive day, me and the assistant, ‘Andy’, thoroughly organized the office almost to the point of my obsessive compulsive liking. It was also a slow day so we closed shop a bit early. I hung out around SoHo and purchased a few unnecessary necessities. I went home for a split second, showered, and then met ‘Jose Maria’ at BarBossa for a quick bite before heading to the religiously attended Eastern Bloc Wednesday night. I don’t remember drinking too heavily but apparently, I got really drunk, as both ‘Jose Maria’ and DJ pointed out. I ended up going home with the latter.

Thursday I worked again. I made plans with ‘Fixie’ to go buy a fixie. I met him right off the Bedford stop, we grabbed a slice of pie, and walked/talked all the way to some bike shop in Greenpoint I’d seen before on my walks to do laundry. He told me about this man that he briefly dated, and how it just went to shit (I’m not surprised) because he was misunderstood. Although I might not agree with his mantra 100%, and who would agree with anyone’s 100% anyway, I am completely on his side and totally see his point (tho I might be biased). He’s a beautiful man who is very self aware and knows what he wants, even if that’s too progressive for others to grasp. He wanted a drink to drown his disappointment, so I obliged. After a very successful and very quick bike shopping experience, we walked to The Abbey for some beers. We talked more about boys. The whole time, I held myself back from just jumping and fucking the shit out of him (yes, I’m in love or, at the very least, severely infatuated). I then invited him over to my place for more beer and TV. We were on our second beer and second episode of Ab Fab when my prince charming passed out beer in hand. I was creepy and took a picture. I then talked to ‘Jose Maria’ who was out and about having drinks for his going away (although he’s really just going on vacation) party. I decided to put ‘Fixie’ to bed and head over to, where else?, Ten Degrees. There were only about 5 or 6 people in his party, one of them was one of the most beautiful straight men I’ve seen in my life. No joke. I had two drinks and headed back home to ‘Fixie’. I slept naked that night.

Friday I was woken up by ‘Fixie’ staring at me at about 6 in the AM. I gave him a naked hug and a kiss and he went home to change and get ready for work. I slept for a bit more and, although I wasn’t supposed to, headed to work myself. I sent a couple emails, checked up on things, and had an unexpected conversation with some guy for a future reality show they might want me to be a part of. I’m thinking about it, but most likely, for professional reasons, I will have to pass. I then left to run more work errands and to JFK to pick up my friend ‘Siouxsie’, who’s mention requires me to close this entry as she deserves her own separate set of entries. It was her first visit to New York. Regretfully, I was late. I forget that New York City freeways/highways have traffic too.

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the.applied.process.

Category: Friends

11.09.2011

I Love New York

10.09.2011

Right as Rain

30.08.2011

Seventeen

26.08.2011

Take it east (Love nothing)

24.08.2011

Where I’m going…

20.08.2011

Oh What a Night!

19.08.2011

Family, Fuck Buddies, and Fuckin’ Beyonce!

16.08.2011

Untitled.

15.08.2011

Let the good times roll!

07.08.2011

A new exercise in quick entries: part deux.