Friends | the.applied.process.

06.08.2011

Now it turns out that the ducks are shooting the shotguns.

The title, unless translated to Spanish and read by a native speaker, makes no sense to the rest of you. It is a saying that goes: ahora resulta que los patos le tiran a las escopetas, which basically means stepping out of line. And that’s exactly what happened last Tuesday night.

My ongoing pseudo summer romance with ‘Sandpaper’ had come to a stop because he’d been away for the past week. The kid still texted me, and I texted back, but only out of mere politeness (and maybe, just maybe, a bit of intrigue). He had returned to New York on Sunday and had been texting me to meet. I had promised him we’d go to Le Bain so I decided to make plans for Tuesday. I suggested dinner before, but not really a date. It was to be me and ‘Jose Maria’, and him and his friends. Tuesday morning, after settling on the delicious Fatty Crab (for the second week in a row), I ran some errands all day, bought some nice expensive towels, got a manicure and pedicure, and finished cleaning my apartment. I took a shower and headed to the Meatpacking at around 9 pm. ‘Jose Maria’ had been waiting for a couple minutes, we asked for a table and waited for ‘Sandpaper’ who was about half hour late. Finally, I called him and realized he’d been lost wandering the streets of the west village trying to find the place. Tourists!

I told him to stay at a corner, tell me the cross streets and I’d come get him. I found my lost pet on the intersection of Greenwich and 8th Ave. He gave me a big hug and, per French etiquette, a kiss per cheek. We walked back to the restaurant. He said he’d already eaten so he just had an appetizer. Me and ‘Jose Maria’ stuffed ourselves stupid yet again. During dinner, he asked me if I’d been with any boys while he was away. Not that it’s any of his business, but I said “yes” (referring to my wild night of crazy sex at the ACE hotel). He said he’d met some Puerto Rican (again, gross!) earlier in the week and asked me if it was ok if he came to Le Bain. I said “sure”, it’s a bar and i don’t own it, anyone can come.

We finished dinner and headed to The Standard. I got us in without waiting in line and we went upstairs. ‘Sandpaper’ loved it. He said it reminded him of clubs in Paris. I know I’m not a local Parisian, but where are these clubs because I can’t say I’ve been to anything similar. To begin with, no building is that tall (unless they opened a club atop la tour montparnasse), nor do Parisians party the same way we New Yorkers do. It’s not better, it’s not worse, it’s just different.

A French couple who were friends with ‘Sandpaper’ were in town on vacation and met up. They had no issues getting in apparently, and I wouldn’t expect them to. They were lovely. We were finishing our drinks on the rooftop when I decided we should move downstairs. I wanted to persuade everyone into going in the pool (I failed). “Sandpaper’ asked me to come downstairs and help his friend, the guy he’d fucked before, get in. For some stupid reason I decided to help him, and we got the nasty little fucker in. He was some poorly (both in style and actual cost of the garments) dressed, flat cap wearing, jobless, little boricuan bitch from Astoria with a big, shiny belt buckle (unless it’s hermes, please don’t). I was still nice to him, although I was a bit annoyed at ‘Sandpaper’ thinking it’s ok to ask me to get some other dude he’s trying to mack into the club. We all went upstairs and onto the rooftop.

From that point on, ‘Sandpaper’ proceeded to be all cutesie with his “guest”. I was drunk, and somewhat annoyed, so I ignored the rest of the group and went on Grindr. ‘Sandpaper’ tried to include me in the conversation by asking what I thought about French guys, to which I responded: “well let’s see, so far the three I’ve met here including you I’ve fooled around with, and it’s been pretty decent, so I’d say I like them”. ‘Jose Maria’ LOLed, ‘Sandpaper’ and the Puerto Rican were shocked, and sadly, the other two Frenchies didn’t understand a word I was saying as their English was very minimal. A few minutes later, ‘Sandpaper’ tried to get touchy feely with me, to which I caved in a bit just to, as I stated in the previous post, make the hypothetical Hispanic hierarchy known.

We all went downstairs to dance. I got more drinks and suggested we go in the pool. Like I said, no one followed, but I went in anyway. The Boricua, now with his shirt off wearing a tucked in wife beater, gave me a look. Are we kidding here?! Once more, unless it’s Rick Owens, please no wife beaters. I splish splashed for a bit and then decided to head home. I asked ‘Sandpaper’ if he was going to come with as a last chance to redeem himself, but he said he was sharing a cab with the Puerto Rican because they were heading the same direction. I am not certain about how that makes sense being as one lives in Astoria, and the other in Washington Heights, but OK. I left and went home.

The next morning I saw a text from ‘Sandpaper’ asking if I was mad. I responded: “no, why?”. He said I seemed upset. I said I was drunk and tired. End of story.

He’s been trying to contact me all week, and I’ve responded back with one liners. Thursday night, he had the balls to ask me if I could get him into Le Bain again. I didn’t even respond till the next day saying “no, sorry”. I saw him last night at a house party (the same party where I met him), but again, I was short yet polite. Bitch lost his chance. Bitch needs to learn his place. To be honest, it’s not the fact that he was hitting up some other dude that bothers me, I’ve been with both DJ and ‘Fixie’ when they’re doing so and I have no issues. I do it too. It’s more of the fact that he’s neither DJ, nor ‘Fixie’, and does not have the same dynamic I have with them, and is not like them. Plus, asking me to facilitate him getting some ass?! Who on earth has the balls to do that?! Props to him on that point but no semi-hot, quasi smart, pseudo interesting bitch is going to pull shit like that on me. I know I sound like a butt hurt bitch myself, that’s fine, I can can own a bit of that. I’m a really nice guy (as he’s stated in texts trying to get me to talk to him again), but cross me the wrong way and go find yourself a bomb shelter and supplies so you can hide from either my backfire, or wait it out till I cool down, because I usually do, it just takes time. The worst thing is that he was and still is clueless as to what he’s doing wrong. Whatever. Come Sunday bitch goes back to Paris, and that’s that. I’m sure in one way or another he’ll realize it was his loss.

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06.08.2011

Grind Date No. 10: Boricuan Benefactee

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

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

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

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

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

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

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04.08.2011

A new exercise in quick entries. I failed.

So it’s been 11 days since I post my usual diary-like post. I have written a grind date entry (and will very soon do another one), and my response to an online article I read, but I haven’t updated the blog in terms of my every-day-sort-of-monotonous-shenanigan report. I want to try something different and do the whole week (Monday to Sunday) in a short-paragraph-per-day way. Here we go.

Monday I freaked out most of the day. I took a nap as soon as I got home from my slut fest. ‘The Lady of Derbyshire’ came over for a bit since she was in the area. Then, I met some friends for a much needed Sundubu fix (they don’t make it like they do in LA) and a few drinks at a mediocre rooftop bar somewhere in K-town. We all parted ways and I met ‘Jose Maria’ in the East Village at a Greek restaurant that looked like a prop in some Hollywood back lot. He was dining with a very odd and diverse crew. Still feeling anxious about my future STD’s (I’m a hypochondriac), I wasn’t feeling much like drinking. We all went to Apotheke in China Town for some “actually drinkable” drinks. I got sloshed and offered to take some of his friends to Le Bain the next night to celebrate someone’s birthday. I (and possibly ‘Jose Maria’) went home (though we might have stopped by Metro).

Tuesday I freaked out again. I can’t remember what I did during the day but most likely I just laid in bed still tired and miserable trying to convince myself that convincing myself that I might have some STD isn’t the best idea. Finally I decided to get it together and leave the confinements of my apartment walls to meet ‘Jose Maria’ and co. as I had promised the previous night. I went to the deliciously decadent Fatty Crab with ‘Jose Maria’. After dinner, we waited for his friends at The Standard Bar, and I proceeded to halfheartedly work my magic at the busy door. Half of us got in, the rest waited downstairs. I ran into some friends, I showed the magical New York City views to birthday boy (who had never been to Le Bain and didn’t seem like he went out much anyway), and I suggested we go back downstairs to meet the mortals who weren’t allowed access to Mt. Olympus. Two more of ‘Jose Maria’s’ friends were downstairs. I lushly charmed the shit out of everyone and although the idea was to head home after, we ended up back upstairs. I took one of the girls who hadn’t been allowed in before with me and breezed her through the door. ‘Jose Maria’s’ friends were trying to counterfeit the stamp. Really? It is not that serious! But kuddos to them, their trickery worked. I was drunk so I didn’t stay much longer. I left with birthday boy (but not really “with”), ‘Jose Maria’ stayed with the con artists. I went home to my beautiful dog.

Wednesday I worked. It was nice to be busy and not think about my dominical mistakes. After work I went home. I was to meet ‘Jose Maria’ after his date at our habitual Eastern Bloc, but he was being himself and had me waiting forever. I went to the bar anyway, texted him and waited some more. I had two drinks and decided to head home. I stopped by his second home (Ten Degrees) to see if he was still there with his beau. They were. I joined them for a drink which turned into 5 or more. I really liked ‘Salgadinho’, his little Brazilian lover. Finally, at about 3 am I decided to head to bed. On my way home, I got a message from ‘Fixie’ who was near my apartment. We met for a drink at Metro and had a lovely make out session in the photo booth. I’m smitten. He left to meet an out of towner who was staying with him. I went home with a giant grin on my face.

Thursday I worked. Again, despite the hang over, it was very welcomed. I like keeping busy. We had an event that night so most of the day I was running up and down and doing anything but thinking about my future terminal illness. The event went great. A few of my friends stopped by. ‘Fixie’ showed up with a date, which I didn’t mind. That’s him and that’s why I like him. After the event I met ‘Mexican Paddington’, ‘Queen of the Dammed’, ‘Fixie’, and his beau du jour at an art show nearby. We all grabbed drinks at a bar around the block. ‘Fixie’ pecked me in front of his man, and then told our Atlantic City story to his date. I love how shameless he is. I like that he gave me my place (even if it’s just his ‘weekend boyfriend’ as he had previously stated). After a few drinks I left the group and met some of my other friends who’d stop by my work at Le Bain. It was the same old shit. Me and ‘Jose Maria’ left to catch one last drink at Metro. Getting back to Brooklyn was a bitch. The subway wasn’t coming for another 20 minutes so we hailed a cab. The bridge was closed so we got off the cab and walked to another subway. We took the wrong train and ended up somewhere in south Brooklyn. Miraculously a cab passed by right away and we had it take us to our haven. We made it just in time for last call, literally. Apparently, at some point in the night I talked to some Colombian girls, which now, as I’m writing, I vaguely remember. We stumbled back to my place and argued the whole way back. I slept.

Friday I woke up and met my shoe dealer. I bought some cute shoes I’d been wanting for a while at a very discounted price. As per dealeresque behavior, my dealer tried to somewhat take a bit of advantage of me. I let it slide. Twenty dollars more or less won’t break my bank. I went to work. I was supposed to meet ‘Fixie’ to go bike shopping after, and possibly ride to Conney Island to watch fireworks, but the damn weather chose to rain on my (love) parade (literally). Instead, I met ‘John G’ that night for drinks at Phoenix. I told him about Sunday and, rightfully so, he gave me his judging eye. He admitted to joining Grindr, which I found absolutely hilarious (in a good way). ‘Jose Maria’ was being his usual slightly annoying self. Him and his friends were going to meet us but were taking forever. The more I drink the less patient I am. We left Phoenix after a few minutes and walked to Boiler Room. I personally dislike that place, but both ‘Jose Maria’ and ‘John G’ were meeting boys. ‘Salgadingho’ was there but ‘John G’s’ man had moved to Urge. I unwillingly accompanied ‘John G’ to meet his Grind Date. They were all being awkward and acting ashamed of having met through an app. Oh boys. I’d been texting with DJ about possibly stopping by for a late night analingus sesh, but by the time we left Urge, went back to the Boiler Room, and left there, he was already asleep. I went home.

Saturday back to work again. Since it was the second to last night my dear boss, ‘The Cock of the North’, was going to be in New York before fleeing to his homeland for a month, we decided to grab some drinks around the block once we closed. The evening was nice. Lots of talk about business and a bit of gossip here and there. The boss, me, and ‘The Lady of Derbyshire’ make a good team. At about midnight we headed back to Brooklyn. ‘The Cock of the North’ wanted to have more drinks, “The Lady of Derbyshire’ didn’t. I always love drinking with the authority so I went along. We stayed out longer than expected, but that’s usually how it goes, and also, as expected, we had a great conversation about life, work, and our friendship (he hates it when I refer to him as the boss). I went to bed at 5.

Sunday, despite feeling very tired and hung over, I showed up at work even though I didn’t have to. I knew it was only gonna be ‘The Cock of the North’ by himself all day, and being the amazing gentleman/friend I am, I concluded that it was only fair to share the burden after our long party night. The day went by slow. I bid ‘The Cock of the North’ goodbye, wished him a great trip, and left work headed to ‘The Lady of Derbyshire’s’ apartment for some rooftop drinking. The rest of the night has been documented on the previous Grind Date entry.

And there you have it! Last week. It is still a very long entry despite trying to restrain myself, but I supposed that’s what happens when I don’t update every other day. Sorry for the inconvenience, and to make it up, I will write a bonus paragraph about my somewhat uneventful Monday. Cheers.

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Monday I spent the whole day being productive in house. I thoroughly cleaned my apartment (scrubbed bathroom walls, moved furniture, vacuumed the cow rug, swiped counters, sweeped bookcases, fluffed pillows, you name it i did it), watched true blood, wrote an entry, did laundry, checked my finances, and God knows what else. Although I was spent, I also cooked a nice dinner for ‘Jose Maria’ and me. He came over and we had some spinach fusilli with a fake meat bolognese sauce and a glass (or two) of carmenere. I can’t cook much, but what I can I do good. We watched the painfully awful yet incredibly catchy train wreck of a show known as the A-List and then headed to Metro to meet a friend who… used to live in New York but had recently moved to San Francisco but is now back in New York but is really living in New Hampshire? I’m confused. The details of the night will be posted on another entry as I turns out, I went on a Grind date… sort of.

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02.08.2011

Grind Date No. 9: FiDi.

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

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

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

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

Saturday ensued more texting. No official meet yet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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30.07.2011

Post-mo? Post-no!

I read this a few weeks ago and my fickle self had been meaning to write a response to how I felt when I first read it. It took me a while but, since it’s raining and my evening plans are no more, without longer ado, and rather than boring you with more of the same drinks/cigarettes/clubs/sex monotonous BS, here it is:

Let’s just start by saying that I find the writer a bit conflicted. I’m almost sure of where he stands, but like I said, only almost. I mostly agree with his points, and I find it really weird that the article turned out to be quite controversial. Where is freedom of expression? And are we really just bitter old queens who are pissed that we had to fight for what we have now, and the newer generation doesn’t? (by we I mean the people who felt the need to leave negative comments. I agree with Paul “I’m not fighting the good fight. It was never mine to fight.”)

Second, what the hell is going on with the pictures of all these men?! It seems like they chose a smorgasbord of the different “flavors” of gays available. I guess they didn’t write the article, but like Paul said, being gay should be secondary or even tertiary, to me they seem like they make it a priority to show it, and again, I might be biased, because I guess I do identify with the more “straight looking/acting” homosexuals out there. The difference is, I always have. I’m gay because I like MEN. This is not a new trend for me, although I will admit that somewhere in my late teens, early 20’s I did give in to shaving religiously and making it a bit apparent I was gay. One way or another, we all have. On a side note, I came out when I was 20, not sure if that’s late or early, but I find it appropriate.

So basically we are talking about how we have it so easy right? And how we seem uninterested and somewhat ungrateful about the past? Well I can definitely say that’s not my case, nor is it the case of plenty of my fellow twenty-somethings here in NYC. I still believe we have a long way to go to get to proper acceptance of homosexuality. New York, as I’m assuming Toronto is (I’ve never been), is pretty liberated. I used to live in LA and although they too are very open minded, I didn’t see as many gays everywhere. I feel they stick to their neighborhoods perhaps, but here I can’t say I spend more than 5 minutes without looking at a fellow ‘mo when I walk down the street. Sure I live in Williamsburg, and I work in SoHo, but still, we are everywhere (as long as you don’t venture into areas where it takes a half hour+ train ride to get to Union Square, but that’s a whole different story).

Like I said, I’m somewhat confused with where he’s going. He’s trying to pitch a new term, the post-mo, and being far too stereotypical about it, and thus ending up with yet another stereotype. I don’t identify with this post-mo. I’m not careless, I’m not reckless, I’m not disinterested in gay rights, I didn’t have it super easy growing up, I’m not big into pride, I’m not big into cliches either. I agree, being gay is secondary, but it is part of who I am and I embrace it, both the good and the bad things that come with it. I feel he is just being antagonistic and trying to prove that he’s anything but typically gay, and it doesn’t go with what he’s trying to achieve, which I assume should be making “gay” a sexual preference and not a defining characteristic. It is never good to be black and white.

More than a direct back and forth between what he said and what I think, I am just going to state how I feel as a gay man in different aspects of my life and hope that gets the point across.

As I’ve stated, I came out when I was 20, I didn’t come from a completely radical PFLAG family. We are Mexicans and, although quite educated, still somewhat attached to the culture and what it entails. My dad constantly made homophobic jokes and hinted that he’d want nothing to do with me if I was gay. Naturally, a teenager would be somewhat scared of exploring his sexuality if threats like these were made. I also went to Christian School where I was constantly reminded it was a sin to “get to know” (as it is stated in Biblical terms) someone of the same sex.

I had my first urges when I was around 11 and, no, I am sorry but I can’t say that I always knew I was gay because when I was 5 I would get turned on by the pictures on baseball cards (as one of my ex’s stated), that was not me. I remember watching a porn at a friend’s house and thinking “hey, that dick is kinda turning me on”, and it started then. Yes, I agree with Paul, the internet has made it extremely easy for us. I surfed the shit out of the macy’s website looking at pictures of dudes in their underwear, and later when I was a bit more adventurous, online porn. I had my first gay experience when I was about 13 with my best friend/neighbor at the time. He suggested we jack each other off, and finally after his third attempt during a slumber party, I gave in. Of course I felt guilty and dirty the next morning, and rightfully so, aside from the obvious omne animal post coitum triste, it had been engrained in my head that what I was doing was wrong (not to mention my crazy overprotective father thinking that most gay men will eventually contract HIV… but more on that later). When I was 15, I had a stalker situation that both scared me and intrigued me, he was older and looking back at it, it was dangerous, but thankfully nothing happened. My mom found out but we didn’t talk it about it. I wasn’t that close to my parents till I came out.

Of course I was pretty much in the closet, even to myself, till I was 18 and I moved out. After my first man on man kiss I went a bit crazy. Blow jobs in a public bathroom stall, instant crushes, anilingus, but still no sex. It was the last strike till I came to terms with who I was, and also I was trying to give the “first time” the very stupid importance we all do. Finally, when I turned 20 and moved to LA I met my first boyfriend, had sex, and came out. My mom was completely fine with it, she already knew. My dad was different. I told him a few weeks later whilst they were visiting me in LA. As expected, he went ape shit. He threatened to cut me off and, instead of me caving in, I bitched back at him by saying: “you don’t want me in your life for being gay?! well I don’t want you in mine for being a close-minded bigot!” and left his hotel room. He called me the next day to apologize and every since then it’s just been getting better and better. He’s even given my ex a christmas present he purchased himself.

And with this I come to my first point. The battle is far from won. There is still a lot more to do. I’ve never been big on pride or gathering a weekend each summer to “celebrate it”. I don’t like pride of any kind for that matter. Gay, brown, white, whatever, it’s just another reason to segregate and alienate. I do enjoy the parties tho, but it wasn’t untill I lived in Paris and my straight friends wanted to go to pride that I started seeing it as just a big party, and not just a reason to parade my homosexuality to end up sleeping with someone that night. I often wonder how many people get carried away, party too hard, and end up with some disease the day after pride, but then again that’s just crazy old hypochondriac me. Yet I see a point in the whole shenanigans. I constantly tell my friends, especially those who are not out but who’s parents obviously know, that if it’s not for them, then do it for others. I was really moved the past year by all the stories of suicide because of gay bullying. We’ve all been there, and thankfully I live in New York Fuckin’ City and I very rarely deal with that, but all those poor kids in the midwest have it hard. I went to visit my ex’s family one time in Wisconsin. My ex isn’t (or wasn’t last time I talked to him over a year and a half ago) out to his parents, although they know. They personally invited me to come visit, so they know. However, my ex’s sister has a friend who is very very effeminate. The kid has long blond hair and dresses in girl clothes. He’s been beat up so many times that they told him at school he couldn’t go there anymore because they couldn’t protect him, yet he’s out there being who he is. What a fuckin’ testament of both pride, and the need to change people’s minds. Again, that’s why I tell my friends, if not for you, then for them. Expose others, especially your loved ones, to the fact that being gay is not aberrant so that slowly, but surely, things can change. You don’t have to wear rainbow flags and hold hands in public, just be proud of who you are. I agree, Paul, pride is not what it was, but we shouldn’t just cross our arms and let it continue to decay.

On the other hand, I also don’t agree with the ubber proud gays. The ones who choose not to befriend straight people. I can think of two friends of mine who are very much like that. One of them said to me “I’d rather help a gay than a straight”. It baffles me to hear such thing. Really?! So are we fighting fire with fire here? Who’s supposed to be the bigger person, because I think everyone should strive for that, gay or straight, and focus on the betterment of society as a whole, regardless of sexual orientation, but really anything else as well. Wouldn’t that be the true meaning of a gay-straight alliance?

While visiting my other friend in London, we were discussing going out. I personally wanted to try East London as I’d never been. When we suggested this to his man, he said “why would you want to go there? it’s a mixed crowd”. I assume he expects me to find “a mixed crowd” an issue? But to me it’s quite the opposite. It’s what I look for when I go out (or at least what I used to back in LA, going out in New York is different, and I do sometimes miss my straight dive bars). Again, ridiculous, but as always, I try to be empathetic. After all he is older and one of those gays who had to “fight the fight”. Sorry but my fight is different. It is not of achieving the same rights only to remain parallel, it is about achieving them to become integrated. My friend joked “segregation now, integration never”.

Earlier I was talking about growing up with this constant anxiety over STD’s (HIV and herpes to be more precise, the rest go away within a week or two of itching and medication). As I mentioned, I grew up with a Mexican father who grew up during the 80’s and thus has his biased opinions about HIV and homosexuality. I don’t blame him, but I can say he did extensive psychological damage to me in terms of that. While I do believe in being extremely safe (although there’s been a time or two when by my high standards I’m far from it), I do not enjoy having ridiculously high levels of anxiety every time I go home with someone. It has definitely gotten better, but it is still a week or two of a constant burn in the pit of my stomach and a persistent “worse case scenario” train of thought. I don’t find Paul’s statements about being safe but sometimes forgetting the condom appropriate, because it is giving sexual health less importance than it should have, and in terms of the older gays who fought for awareness and lost a lot of loved ones it wouldn’t be fair. It is something that should definitely be a constant in our minds, not something that should be treated lightly.

Finally, I truly feel like I’ve grown up a lot as a person. I have become quite comfortable with my stances, my beliefs, and the way I approach situations. I strive to be empathetic and understand others for who and what they are whether I agree or not. I don’t expect people to agree with me, but I do expect them to respect me, and thus I do the same. I constantly push myself to be more open minded, and approach every situation without any preconceived notions. That is what the post-mo should be. One way or another, gay men in metropolitan cities do have an easier life than their straight counterparts. Like Paul stated, it’s trendy, we have more disposable income, and the city can be our oyster. It is time to not just enjoy this but use it towards being the better group, and I don’t mean it in a discriminating, “superior race” kind of way, I mean the more mature, forward group, but really, there shouldn’t be a “group” at all. Just individuals striving to be the “post-man” (and feminists don’t you dare come at me because I used the term “man”, it is short for “human”).

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29.07.2011

two months of anxiety for a few seconds of wild sex

I am not sure how personal I am going to be. This entry is about last Sunday night, and the events are still a bit too fresh, a bit too recent. Furthermore, I’m not sure if it’ll make me feel better or worse to remember and write something I wish I could forget. Regardless, let’s hope it’s therapeutic, and let’s hope when I read this again, a few weeks from now, I’ll just laugh at how stupid I feel at the moment, and have this as a constant reminder the next time I choose to give in so easily to my manic episodes.

Sunday after work I went to SoHo house for, as I aptly named it, pool o’clock. Me and ‘The Lady of Derbyshire’ had been craving a nice swim since the weather had been horrible here in NYC. I messaged a friend who’s a member, he told us to come after 5, and so we did. We walked our swimwear wearing petit derrières to the A train on spring street and north we went to 14th and 8th. The trip was miserable, it was too damn hot and muggy, but in a way that sort of made the advent of a pool much more appealing.

Upon our arrival, we ordered a nice jug/pitcher of Pimm’s, laid on the grape and white stripe lounge chairs, and admired the view: the gentrification of the meatpacking at its best. We got in the pool and ordered some SoHo pricey food. The water was just the right temperature, and although the sun was a bit hot, the real burning came from some of the eyes of the other members. I enjoyed it. I find it somewhat hilarious, and a true testament that money and class are not directly proportional. Some unknown rapper performed a quite catchy and fun set next to the pool. A Scott Disick-esque varmint was dancing on a table and spilling champagne. An inebriated plastic orange (referring to the color of her skin) and her skeletal fedora-wearing wannabe something beau were “dancing” on the made up stage with said rapper. A certain quasi famous nobody with crispy skin and fried hair was at the other end of the pool acting like he owned the place. The place was packed with characters.

After the rapper finished his set, we decided to leave and go to a tea party at Dream Hotel which ended up turning into another pool party, except this one was filled with people who were true testament that lack of money and lack class are somewhat directly proportional. The pool was gross both literally and figuratively. The drinks were weak, but I did manage to drink quite a few of them as we had to order a giant pitcher to be allowed a place to sit, and I am not a fan of wasting alcohol. We didn’t stay long either. Me and ‘AK47’ left to the Gansevoort for a classier than Dream Hotel, but trashier than SoHo house change of pace, ‘The Lady of Derbyshire’ went home. My friends ‘Jose Maria’ and ‘John G’ met up with us. We had a drink and headed for Cielo, where I’d never been. Sadly, the place didn’t live up to its name and soon after I ended up in my own personal hell. I left with an Australian who’s name I can’t even remember.

The Aussie took me back to his hotel room at ACE. The details of the night start getting blurry, but on our way up to the room we met another gay couple who invited us over. Both of our horny drunk brains agreed this was a good idea. We entered their room and it seemed kind of sketchy so we left and went to Aussie’s. Somehow, we decided to go back. One of the guys had left, the other one was laying in bed naked and gross. He asked if we “partied” which is code word for doing drugs (meth to be precise), we didn’t but decided to stay regardless. As I’m typing this a voice in the back of my head is just going “idiot! idiot! idiot!”. I should’ve gone home. I didn’t. Again, it’s all blurry but I’m fairly certain all that happened is that Aussie got fucked by gross dude, per my request and I jacked off. I don’t think there were any exchange of fluids other than maybe spit. Another guy showed up and that was sort of our cue to leave.

We went up to the room and ordered some room service and drank a bottle of red wine. I think we fooled around and for some reason I somewhat remember having sex with him. I blacked out. Next thing I know I woke up at 6 in the morning projectile vomiting all over the room. Aussie was speechless and so was I. This never happens to me. For a second I thought I got drugged. I showered and we went back to sleep.

The next morning we woke up and fooled around. We were both still pretty drunk/hung over. This time we jacked of and did cum. We talked a bit about the night and tried to get our stories straight. As far as we know it was all safe and the only time we came was that morning. I started my walk of shame feeling not only shameful but also mad, stupid, anxious, and irresponsible. I bought a smoothie and went home. Monday wasn’t a good day. I felt the usual omne animal post coitum triste time a billion.

I took a nap and woke up to a text from ‘The Lady of Derbyshire’ who came to visit. I talked to her and I felt a bit better. I talked to ‘Jose Maria’ as well, he tried calming me down which kind of worked but still… I am just very disappointed at myself, and to be honest, although this feeling has happened before, it never gets old. I know the outcome. I could almost certainly bet my life that once I get tested I’ll be fine, but ironically, maybe I say that I can bet my life because that’s exactly what I was doing: gambling. The next few days included a lot of ups and downs. The worst part of it all is the anxiety of waiting till I can actually get tested, the stupid “window period”. I talked to Aussie a few days later on Grindr (he found me after the fact), we checked our stories again and I felt a bit better, but like I said, it comes and goes. It’s just a slight burning in my stomach that won’t go away till I go to the clinic, but all I can really do is wait. I don’t know how to end this post so I’ll just say “to be continued…” updates on my physical and mental health to come in a few weeks.

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26.07.2011

It’s just another manic Wednesday/Thursday/Friday/ Saturday/Sunday…

Wednesday after ‘Buck’ left things went back to normal. After a quick stop at the gallery and then a tedious wait at the Sprint store, I had my phone back and all was good with the planet. I met ‘Jose Maria’ at his favorite bar with his friend for a quick drink before sushi. I felt like I could finally enjoy some raw fish after being scared of it after a previous food poisoning incident. Takahachi was good, but for some reason, and I blame this on the heat mostly, the sushi wasn’t as rewarding as it usually is. It didn’t feel fresh, it felt tepid. We left and went to Eastern Bloc for our habitual Wednesday night. I’ve been in a crazy horny mood lately, I think because of my mania, so I was somewhat looking for trouble. Thankfully I held back. I managed to drink a lot and make out with DJ a few times, and then just cabbed it back home. I was craving a night completely alone at my apartment. It felt great.

The next morning, I got ready and headed to work. The days had been painstakingly hot. It was somewhat comforting to be in the confines of the office with the AC on full blast. Sadly, the back and forth of temperatures had my throat aching like a mother fucker. I soon discovered that I had a case of “Sick Building Syndrome” (yes, it’s a real condition) due to the air quality affected by the AC unit. What’s a boy to do?

Later that night, I had a date with ‘Sandpaper’. To be honest, I was kind of dreading it. Again, he’s moving too fast for me. He had asked me if it would be ok for him to spend the night so he packed an overnight bag and met me at my place. Is it me or is it just a tad too much? I was a bit annoyed and didn’t really care if I was rude so I was 30 minutes late. We walked to Mesa Coyoacan and had some proper Mexican food. It was weird because it really felt like a date. He was being all romantic and cutesy and I could tell people smelled the date-ness of the whole situation. After dinner, we stopped by Metropolitan for one last night cap (or two). An alcoholic has a quota he has to meet. I ran into my boss’s wife and some friends at Metro. Again, I could tell they smelled our date-ness. Gross. ‘Sandpaper’ was tired and suggested we head home and watch a movie. Despite not wanting, I obliged.

When we got home, he asked if he could take a shower while I walked my dog. Of course I said yes, then I took my sweet ass time walking my baby. I called some friends, Grindr’d, and smoked a fag or two. When I got back to my apartment, he was already asleep. I smoked a cigarette and took a shower. He half asleeply asked me if I was coming to bed soon, I said “after this cigarette” a few times. I decided to finish a bottle of wine that’d been sitting on my counter for the past week, smoke another cigarette, and go online. I don’t usually go to bed before it’s officially the next day. I finally gave in and laid down. He was somewhat annoyed that I stayed up, I didn’t care, he tried to hug me but I acted asleep and careless.

Friday morning I woke up at around 6 and just laid there enjoying an anxiety attack or two, and staring at the ceiling waiting till his alarm clock went off at 7:30 so he’d go to work. We woke up, barely kissed or fooled around and he took off. I went back to bed again for about an hour, and then went to work. The day was busy, it felt nice to get a lot of things accomplished. After work I hurried home, fed my dog, walked him, took a nap (I think), showered, and went back to 10 Degrees to meet ‘Jose Maria’, his two friends, and my friend ‘John G’ for some belated birthday drinks. Again, the heat was unbearable. It is almost hard to drink, and practically impossible to enjoy a cigarette. 10 Degrees was 10 Degrees. I don’t think they like me there, maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned to the bartender the other night when I saw him out that I don’t really like that place. ‘Jose Maria’ and ‘John G’ were outside smoking and I was tired of feeling hot inside so I paid for the bill and headed out. As expected, ‘Jose Maria’ went back inside to say bye to his bartender crush. I’m not even gonna go there because it’s nobody’s business but his and he knows what he’s doing.

We went to Phoenix for a second to meet some more friends. Phoenix was different than usual, but I guess there’s a new Friday night party. It was fun. Me and ‘John G’ left for a bit to go meet my friend ‘Sunshine’ at Bowery Hotel. We only stayed for a drink, which ‘John G’ manage to “leave” behind at a nearby planter, and then we went back to Phoenix. As we approached the bar, I noticed ‘Jose Maria’ talking to some hot Spanish guy outside. As always, he was acting a bit coy and uninterested. Uninterested my ass! We went inside and more friends met up. A weird situation developed. ‘Jose Maria’ and two other guys were all hitting on the same guy. It was fun to watch. I was tired and drunk, so I left them to finish their sword fight. The next day I found out that the most aggressive of them took the price home. I wasn’t surprised.

Work on Saturday was slow. There was not much to do as we’d done most everything the day before. I was talking to some 21 yr old on Grindr. I decided to meet him after work for a second, but more on that on a separate entry. Me and ‘The Lady of Derbyshire’ discussed the possibility of meeting later that night after work for drinks, but one thing led to another and she stayed in and it stayed local. I went to visit one of my good friends who I don’t often see at his apartment in Williamsburg. He had a small get together with other gays before they all went out to their respective clubs. Sadly, my friend has a broken foot so he stayed in. I walked by myself back to Metro. I ran into ‘The Mexican’. I haven’t really talked to him much lately, I think things just fizzled out and to be honest, it’s fine. He had way too many red flags. I’d rather just casually run into him and have a drink or two. He was talking to his friend and I was basically being ignored so I left and went to bed. I don’t enjoy the games.

On the Lord’s Day I surprisingly made it to work in time despite waking up a bit late and meeting some other guy from Grindr in the morning for a quick second (more on that on a separate post, as well). ‘The Lady of Derbyshire’ joined me at work and the day went slow. There wasn’t much to do, so we asked the owners if we could close shop early and head to SoHo house to meet a friend of mine for some pool time. We were granted the privilege to do so. I’ll end the post on this note. The rest of the day/night deserves its own post. Regretfully, I was stupidly drunk and am not proud of my actions. I am not sure how much I’m willing to talk about it, but I’ll try my hardest to stay true to the blog. After all, I’m sure a few weeks from now I will look back at this and laugh my ass off at how stupid I was and how stupid I felt.

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24.07.2011

Bye bye ‘Bucky’…

The beginning of the end started last Monday. ‘Buck’s’ last 72 hours were slipping out of our puffy hung over fingers. As usual, my two dear friends, the aforementioned and ‘Jose Maria’, had decided to stay up giving in to their drunk munchies and watching movies. I on the other hand, had fallen asleep promptly. A girl’s gotta watch her figure and I’m not 21 anymore.

They had planned an eventful MOMA/harry potter day, but it’s hard to do all these things when you’re retardedly hung over and you wake up literally after noon, so instead we nixed the museum and just watched the very confusing last chapter of Miss Rowling’s most successful best sellers. After the movies I had agreed to meet ‘Sandpaper’ for a Mexican dinner and maybe some rooftop pool action. We went to Dos Caminos in the meatpacking. The food is not the best but the view is nice, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to introduce him yet to my special Brooklyn Mexican eatery ‘Mesa Coyoacan’, also, I didn’t want to take him near la casa de me. He was acting creepy and too attachy for my taste. I’m not sure if it’s a cultural thing but I was somewhat flattered/annoyed by his actions. Please refrain from calling me baby, trying to hold my hand, too many PDA’s, and whatever other cutesy/romantic bullshit standard faggots enjoy.

After dinner we wandered around Chelsea for a bit stopping by GYM (a gay sports bar), and XES. The former was fun. I managed to embarrass myself playing a game of pool in front of a somewhat attractive Puerto Rican daddy type (what is wrong with me! Puerto Rican? really? I guess I’m evolving). He challenged ‘Sandpaper’ to a game and, to my surprise, ‘Sandpaper’ was a ball away from winning. We left promptly after. XES was boring. We tried going to Le Bain after but it was closed for the night. I bid him adieu and walked to the ACE hotel to meet up with ‘Buck’ and ‘Jose Maria’. There was a fashion trade show party. It wasn’t very fun so we went back to Brooklyn. We made a quick pit stop at Metropolitan, then a last stop at Alligator lounge for some free pizza and more drinks. We walked back home.

Side note: I’ve been feeling very manic lately. I just realized it tho. I’d been feeling strange for a few days and it just hit me that maybe it was a manic episode. That would explain it all, basically I’ve been more sexual, more reckless, more fervent, more effervescent, and thus my posts haven’t been very ‘usual me’, as well as my behavior.

Tuesday morning was another late start. My sleeping beauties snoozed till two-ish. ‘Jose Maria’ went back to the city to handle personal business. Me and ‘Buck’ debated whether we should stay in, order food, and watch movies, but then I realized I had to meet a friend for some art openings later in the evening, so we decided to go to MOMA for a bit prior to my engagement. We barely had an hour of time before MOMA closed, so I quickly gave ‘Buck’ a tour of the highlights and a crash course in modern art history. Then I left him and ‘Jose Maria’, who met up with us, and headed to Chelsea Market to meet my friend ‘The Lady of Derbyshire’. We walked up a few blocks to the Matthew Marks Gallery for ‘La Carte d’apres Nature’ exhibit. It was nice. We tried to find other openings, but there were none so we just went to The Red Cat for drinks and cheese. It was nice to see her. I enjoy our little one on ones where we talk about work, people, and people from work. The weather was hot, but not ubberly so we strolled to the east side along 23rd st. We parted ways around Broadway and I went home.

Earlier that evening, ‘Buck’ had a dinner with his previous host/lovely friend. After his engagement, he met me back at mine’s. We opted to do an East Village bar crawl before ending, as expected, at Le Bain. Phoenix. Heather’s. Something on Ave B. Bedlam. The first was alright, met some really annoying queer who kept arguing about the straight to gay ratio in the world with very questionable sources and “facts”. The second was phenomenal. I met Emily Haines and her bandmate Josh and talked to them for a long time. Turns out he knows an artist we work with. She asked me for my cellphone number… just saying. The third bar on Ave. B was chill. I accidentally opened the door to the bathroom as a girl was fixing her boobs, and although a bit awkward, we laughed and drank the awkwardness off. ‘Jose Maria’ met up with us and we left for the last place. Bedlam was empty.

Le Bain was fun, as usual. We went into Boom Boom for a bit. My manic self had us going from one side to the other. We eventually ended at the hot tub. I proceeded to do this completely naked. I kissed some South American, he fondled my penis briefly, we left.

Back in Brooklyn, we tried to find some food but almost everything was closed. It was almost 5 in the morning. I picked up a veggie bagel sandwich from the deli, ‘Buck’, and ‘Jose Maria’ were once more being princesses about the whole situation and decided to go back to my place and wait till 6 in the morning when their usual bagel shop opened. The short brown man at the deli messed up my order so I threw my bagel away and went to bed. I believe the boys stayed up and got their bagels.

Wednesday, we all woke up past 1pm. ‘Buck’ had to catch a cab at quarter past two. We didn’t get to hang out much more, but although I didn’t want him to leave, nor did he want to leave, I have a feeling we both knew it was the right time. The goodbye was nice. Not only does absence make the heart grow fonder, but also he needs to figure out his San Diego situation so he can be back in town by the fall. Like I stated, the past few days with him were not at all what I expected. It was nicer and better than I could’ve thought, and I got to see a more mature, more centered side of him I was proud of. It’s crazy how fast kids grow these days. Life goes on.

All I have left to say about this is: come back soon my dear boy, this fag needs his stag stat.

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22.07.2011

weekend boyfriends!!

As I had mentioned, I went to work straight from DJ’s apartment, unshowered and smelling a bit like sweat and sex. The day went by quick. After work I rushed home thinking our bus for Atlantic City left at 5:45. I packed quickly, walked my baby, freshened up, and headed to some hardcore porn headquarters in the same building as DKNY and other fashion related companies somewhere near Times Square where I was to meet ‘Fixie’.

A bit of background on my future weekend boyfriend: I basically fell in love with him the first time I met him about a year ago. He is, physically, almost exactly what I look for, I don’t think there’s a creature in this planet who fits the bill 100% but he comes pretty damn close. At the time he had a boyfriend, but he seemed like a sweet guy that I’d like to know more and possibly wait for. We got to hang out a few more times and I got to hear the usual drama that comes with having a significant other. The more I saw him and the more I got to know him, the more I fell. We’d kissed a couple of times and discussed the possibility of sex. I am very into him, however, we live very distinct lifestyles and for me it’s just been a matter of “Can my horny penis finally deliver the coup de grâce to my over analytical anxiety ridden brain?”.

I was a bit hesitant over what the weekend might bring. I was anxious over drinking because I knew that that would most certainly help Mr. Winky dish his final blow, but in a way, I was somewhat ready for it. We walked across the street to Port Authority. He informed me the bus wouldn’t be leaving for another hour so we decided to grab a smoothie and wait in line. He is so damn dreamy.

Upon arriving at Atlantic City, our friends were nowhere to be found. ‘Fixie’ and I wandered around for an hour till they were courteous enough to show their presence and let us in the room to drop our bags. The weekend started on an off schedule. They had already eaten, we were starving, so we opted to go have dinner and meet them later for drinks. They kept texting us to hurry. I had a slight feeling they were trying to find out if we’d fuck already. The tension was there. Finally we met up with them at a club on the rooftop of our subpar “resort”. The moment we walked inside the club, we knew we were the two hottest guys in the room. Most eyes were on us. We developed a certain sense of entitlement, and I believe that was what started solidifying our ‘weekend boyfriends’ status. We had a few drinks, but they were ahead of us and left before we did. We were pretty tired from the long trip so we left the bar and headed to the room. No kissing. No sex.

The next morning again our friends wanted to eat a proper breakfast, we wanted smoothies, so we said our goodbyes and went our separate ways. We walked along the boardwalk. We bought matching tees. I was feeling like a 12 yr old school girl hanging out with her crush. It was kind of cute to say the least. We ended up at a starbucks on a mall sipping on some subpar smoothies. Again, mom and dad kept texting to see where we were. A couple of friends of mine (including the love of my life/best friend a.k.a. ‘The Wife’) were driving from Philly to meet us for the day. We ended back at the room where we downed a couple vodka sodas and finally headed to the beach to meet the rest of the crew.

The beach was nice. I normally hate it, but me and ‘Fixie’ had decided to just have a crazy silly weekend and go in our speedos to try and ruffle up some guidos. Again, most eyes were on us (although for different reasons). ‘Fixie’s’ zebra print banana hammock out did my Euro sleek black Dior ensemble. He looked adorable. We splish splashed, smokey smoked, and tanny tanned. Very unlike me but, like I said at the end of the previous post, my bastions were promptly crumbling.

After the beach most of us opted for buffet. I discussed with ‘The Wife’ my feelings and concerns at the moment over ‘Fixie’. As expected, she suggested I just go with it. We stopped by the room prior to getting food. My sober self for some reason agreed to take a shower with ‘Fixie’. This was not me. This was not me. We had our first full view of each others’ genitals. I’d heard about his, and they were certainly as beautiful as they’d been described/ I’d been expecting. My usual self consciousness wasn’t there.

We walked to the buffet and stuffed ourselves beyond our skinny (or not) capabilities. After food, ‘The Wife’ and her friends headed back home. The rest of the posse decided to give in to the already present food coma. That night we were gonna try and do a pool party, Jersey Shore style.

Prior to la piscine, we went to a drag show upstairs. It was pretty phenomenal to say the least. After the show, we bar hopped along the boardwalk a bit. Per a handsome bartender’s suggestion, we nixed the pool party and headed to a beach bar. It was empty but drinks were cheap. We then tried to hit the Chelsea Hotel but were denied entrance due to our outfits. I won’t even start on my feelings about subpar clubs telling me how to appropriately dress. The girls who were with us stayed there, us boys decided to walk back to the club we were at the night prior. We made a pit stop at the beach where I had a one to one with my friend ‘Mexican Paddington’, then he had a moment with his beau ‘Queen of the Dammed’, and I had my first kiss/junk fondling of the weekend.

‘Fixie’ and I decided to strip down to our European beach attire and walk back down the boardwalk to the hotel weekend boyfriends status. Black girls loved us, black boys did too (although shh!!! don’t tell because they’re on the DL). People took pictures with us, gave us free stuff, and complimented us left and right. Again, most eyes were on us.

Back at the hotel, we decided to do the club in our speedos to top off the already atypical (although not really) night. People stared twice as hard as the night before. We managed to give a show, dancing on the go-go boys stage, making out, grabbing each other’s semi erect crotches, and whatever else my blurry memory won’t let me recall. We let our roommates head back to the room for a bit and do their thing, after all, this was their quasi-pre-wedding vacation. Not being very aware of the time we went back to the room a few minutes later not honoring our promise to let them enjoy man on man sex. We took another shower together. Somewhere out there there’s a video of me eating ‘Fixie’s’ ass in a New Jersey hotel room bathroom. Chip chop the bastion was down. I pranced around the room in my new found comfortable nudity and gave my first live sex show (although there wasn’t any actual sex, it was still very dirty). ‘Fixie’ passed out and I went to bed.

Sunday was our last day. We all checked out and walked down the boardwalk to where we were the night before to a cute little restaurant where the food and the ambiance wasn’t subpar, for once. Sadly, can’t say the same about the service. Again, somehow we all did our own thing and ‘Fixie’ and I ended up alone gambling. We started pounding drinks. We gambled some more. I was not very lucky, him on the other hand, had the typical case of beginner’s luck. I was out 100 dollars, he made a last minute $400 with the 20 bucks I gave him thanks to Carrie, Samantha, Miranda, and Charlotte. We went back to the beach for a celebratory make out session.

We meet up with the rest of the group and waited for the bus back home. On the bus ride home we were cuddly for a second, but that’s not really him, and it’s not really me either, lately. I took a brief nap. The whole weekend ‘Fixie’, being the sexually liberated over-evolved gay man he is, was blatantly talking to other men for sex, although he made sure to always include me in the plans. It bothered me a bit, for some reason, although I’m not sure why, yet at the same time, it’s kind of comforting to watch him be so open about it. I woke up and blatantly asked him if we were having sex when we got back to Brooklyn. He said he was already talking to someone else, but he was free on Monday. I said I had a date. I guess there’s always next time.

We got back to New York. We all went our separate ways. I met up with my friend ‘Buck’ and co. for some night before night before last partying. Still being in my beachy pool mood, we ended up at the rooftop at the Gansevoort. Then Greenhouse. I was mighty wasted so I did my usual disappearing act and, unlike my usual self, proceeded to booty text both DJ and ‘Fixie’. Throughout the whole night, I could not shut up about ‘Fixie’. It felt nice. I don’t think I could date him, although I’ve been surprising myself left and right, but it was a great weekend. It felt great to have that sort of tender crush one has when naive, yet this time with the maturity to take it for what it is: just a crush.

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20.07.2011

The more baths I take the dirtier I feel.

I’d been meaning to have a catch up day ever since I got back from Europe. A day to thoroughly clean my apartment, unpack, and rest properly. The latter trumped the rest. It was a lazy day indeed. I did manage to go to the city and do a little shopping for stuff I needed around the house. I wasn’t feeling much like going out that night either. Sometimes, I need my alone time. However, one thing led to another and me and ‘Buck’ ended up meeting a friend for drinks. The bar du jour isn’t my favorite by any means, but at the end of the day that’s beside the point. What really matters is the company and the price of the drinks.

We imbibed a couple of standard cocktails and left to our next destination. It was empty. We walked over to Lit Lounge and Home Sweet Home. The first was somewhat happening, the latter was quite barren so we decided to try Le Bain. ‘Buck’ had been wanting to check it out and I’d been meaning to take him so although it was a Monday night and it would most likely be empty, we weren’t looking to meet people, just enjoy the amazing view and maybe have a dip in the inside hot tub/pool. Sadly, tonight we’d have to stay dry. The place was closed.

Still itching for a drink or three we walked to the opposite corner to Hogs and Heifers of Coyote Ugly fame. The bar was also empty, but the cheery bartenders made it fun regardless. We didn’t stay long. We decided to try our luck at Cielo nearby. Being this the meatpacking district, we were asked for a 15 dollar cover, to which I politely declined, and, do not quote me on this one but, I believe we went home.

Tuesday I planned on stopping by work for a second. I ran some more errands. ‘Buck’ did his sight seeing. Later we all met with his friends at a celebrity owned restaurant in the UES for some trivia night. Naturally, we kicked ass. We raffled the three iPod nano’s we’d won, but I didn’t get one. After trivia, we went to have a quick drink at 2A for my friend’s birthday. We didn’t stay long, the plan was to drink cheap and then head to Le Bain (finally).

We breezed through the front door. I’ve become quite the regular so cues are not necessary. We rode the elevator up to the penthouse, out the dark corridor, and into the sleek noir interiors we went. The night hosted a drag/gay party. Naturally, a lot of your usual New York nouveau club kids were there, which only added to the already fantastic views of the New York skylines. It is a sight to be seen. We proceeded to buy an expensive watered down drink. I do not understand why, but as a vodka connoisseur, it baffles me that they try to hide well vodka in premium bottles. Who are they trying to kid?! I guess it doesn’t matter if you’re already drunk (which is usually the case). We strolled around for a bit, enjoyed more of the view, and went upstairs for more cockys and fags (I’m talking about drinks and cigarettes). Eventually, as expected, we ended up in the hot tub prancing around in our skivvies and getting into all sorts of trouble. I think I made out with a boy.

Wednesday I worked, worked, worked. I’m not sure what my other two partners in crime did, most likely sleep most of the day and bum around as you should when on vacation. I might be getting my days confused, but I’m sure that night we went back to the East Village. I can’t recall if something happened prior to my usual Wednesday hang out Eastern Bloc or not, but we stopped there for a couple of drinks. Said hi to some familiar faces (and cocks) and spared ‘Buck’ from yet another gay soiree by going back to Le Bain per his request.

I’d never been on a Wednesday and I’d heard it wasn’t the best night, but again, as long as I have the view, a cocktail, and a friend I’m ok with it. Getting in was no problem (again), despite the fact that there were people being turned down at the door. The place was not as packed as the previous night, but still fun. My inebriated “I can do anything” persona devised a plan to get us into Boom Boom Room next door. There is no pool there but it’s definitely a place to see, especially if you’re from out of town, you need the full “if I can make it here, I can make it anywhere” New York experience. The plan worked. The Room was empty, but again, we had some cocktails and made the best of it. I left my buddies around 3am when I decided I was tired and I didn’t really care to wait for them. I sometimes get like this when I drink. All I know is I got home safe, they did so as well, but opted to stay up watching movies and eating bagels till who knows when. I had work in a few hours.

In the morning I realized I’d received a ‘booty text’ from a certain DJ I’d fooled around a while ago. More on this in a bit.

Thursday was a long day. We had an opening at my job that night so I planned and packed my usual stand out attire for the evening and wore a tank top and jeans to work. The thing I love about my job is that there’s always something different and new to do, and Thursday just happened to have a bit of everything. I showed my true Mexican self by doing some manual work, my almost genius like intellect and problem solving abilities by doing a lot of brain work, and my alluring personality by socializing like a socialite on speed. The evening turned out great. A lot of my friends came by and so did a couple of cocks who’ve been either chasing me or I’ve been chasing.

After the opening, I went with one of my coworkers to grab some food, ran into one of the cocks and told him to meet me at the after party. We walked back to a bar around the corner for some ‘work drinks’. It wasn’t the usual after party. It was more toned down, but so was the opening so I guess it was fitting. The rest of my friends and the cock showed up. I felt slightly rude to some my guests all night because I couldn’t really spend much time chit chatting. I was working like a busy bee all night, and I’ve decided that comes first. I’m refocusing on making it in different aspects of my life and I do not need distractions. Me and my boss had our usual drunken work rants that I love. If all goes well, I see my future getting brighter, but I won’t say more, I don’t want to jinx it. After being somewhat ignored, the cock went home. The rest of my friends and I went back to Le Bain.

A friendly face was working the door. We breezed right through. Again, sorry to all the ones waiting in line, I was once one of you, although honestly I don’t know what it is but I’ve always been enchanting enough to be wanted in. The crowd was horrible. The Chelsea gays decided to migrate south for the evening. I skedaddled to Boom Boom and once inside proceeded to device a way of getting my posse in. I succeeded. There has been a bit of drama between a few of the attendees of the night. I hung around for a bit and observed people getting drunker and looser. After a blurry hour or so I received a message from DJ asking me to come over. Rather than doing my usual disappearing act and going home I said my goodbyes and left my party to their own demise and cabbed it to the East Village. My knight in shinny briefs was waiting for me. I undressed, we laid in bed and kissed. We fell asleep rather quick. The next morning we kissed some more and jacked off. He came, I didn’t. We bid farewell and looking like I did 12 hours ago I went to work. My boss giggled.

I didn’t stay long, just half the day. That evening I was to meet my current crush at his adult industry job and catch a buss to Atlantic City for a weekend I’m quite sure I’ll never forget. Without knowing, one of the last bastion of my guarded self was about to crumble down.

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Category: Friends