Life | 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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21.08.2011

Money changes everything.

Oh the twists and turns life takes. Just yesterday I was writing about gay relationships in New York and my current take on them and then the Big Apple gods decide to slap me in the face. I went on a date last night and it was great.

I met ‘Nickle’ at a bar a block away from my place a few Fridays ago. He was a very handsome thirty-something who I was trying to figure out his sexual preference. He started talking to me so I assumed he was gay. Five minutes later my assumptions were confirmed. We were both pretty inebriated so I’m not sure how long we talked but we ended up making out and exchanging numbers. The next day he texts me saying he wants to meet for drinks at some point. I replied saying that would be a grand idea. We made plans for later next week after both our guests, his father and my friend, went back home.

We didn’t really talk much after that. I texted him once asking if we were still on for Thursday. He said that because of his dad being in town he’d taken a lot of days off work and had to make up for them so he wouldn’t be able to. We rescheduled for Saturday. He suggested we meet at a bar in Greenpoint where his friend had just gotten a new bar tending gig which meant free shots or, at the very least, cheap drinks.

Yesterday I left work and, after enduring the crazy subway madness (the 6 train wasn’t running and the L was packed and delayed), I made it home. I walked my dog really fast, freshened up, picked up a slice of pie, and texted him I’d be ten minutes late. I arrived at the bar. He was looking very handsome wearing black adidas, jeans, a tan belt, and a dress shirt. A couple of ‘Nickle’s’ friends were coincidentally there.

The date started off nice. We ordered a beer and a shot of Maker’s. We breezed through the initial who’s, where’s, what’s, and when’s. We had a few more drinks, cigarettes, and some nachos. The man is a drinker. We had a nice chat in the backyard about what we’re looking for and my convictions started going to shit. He mentioned how he’s done the whole open relationship and everything under the sun and he was ready to settle down, whatever that means. I gave him a condensed version of my new mantra. He didn’t seem faced. We kissed. We discussed not sleeping together despite both really wanting to because we liked each other and we know how that goes.

We had another drink and a shot. He kept insisting we drink more and then see where the night goes which I took as code for “I’m trying to get you and myself drunk to the point where we don’t care if we fuck”. I went with it.

We eventually left and headed to the bar where we first met. We ordered water and made out a bunch more times. One thing led to another and we ended up at my apartment. Naturally, we kissed more and the clothes started coming off. He gave me a blow job on the couch as I smoked a cigarette which was both very sexy and something I really enjoy. Despite not being my usual m.o., I returned the favor minus the smoke. To say I was very attracted to ‘Nickle’ is an understatement. We went to bed and fooled around a bit more. He has a nice dick. He passed out on my chest. So much for not sleeping together.

This morning we woke up a few times, fooled around,and cuddled a bit more. Nobody really came. We got up at around 10 and decided to go to brunch together. After walking by a few different places that were either closed or had a long wait time, we ended up at Lokal. As expected, we ordered bloody marys. I insist, this man is a drinker. It’s not something I mind much, I am a drinker too, but I do remember thinking the night before that he was a bit too sloshed for my taste. We had a nice meal and an even better conversation. There was no awkwardness at all and, despite risking not seeing him again by having him sleep over, I think we both handled the situation with grace. I’m beginning to think it’s all in the semen, as long as neither party cums, there’s not really any weird ambiance the next morning.

He suggested I read a book he just finished reading. I suggested he read a book I read a few months ago. We paid our bill and walked back towards my place. He was going to meet some friends by the river, I was going to shower and go to work. We kissed goodbye and made plans to “exchange books” later in the week.

I left giggly. I like this one. He seems like a lush gentleman. As I was showering and on the cab ride to work I thought about what this all meant. I was so set on my new philosphy about men and by no means am I throwing it out the window but ‘Nickle’ really made me think. I like that. I know it sounds stupid, especially since it’s only been one date. If there’s one thing I love about myself is my versatility. I’m a Pisces and I’m pretty easy going and adaptable. I go with the flow, but I can also swim against current. In this case, I’m going to take it a boy at a time. I’m not jumping on any trains, DJ and ‘Fixie’ are still in the picture, so is SF boy who, after ages, I just talked to today and made plans for when he comes to town next month. ‘Nickle’ is just another fisherman looking to lure this goby who, depending on its environment, will gladly adapt if needed as long as I’m comfortable. Yesterday I was talking about assimilation vs. integration, and doing things because you want to, not because you’re expected. It might sound conflicting that I’m talking about adaptation now, however, that just so happens to be my nature. Ever changing, ever welcoming, ever understanding. I’m not going against who I am, I’m just realizing I shouldn’t lock myself on a strict ideology.

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20.08.2011

“To be young, rich, and gay… and in New York. It’s a mouthful. Literally”

Call it coincidence or fate but this morning when I logged on to Facebook I read a very moving post by a fellow blogger, Duncan Roy, about being gay and what it means to him. I had been thinking of writing about this whole “open relationship” situation I’ve been dealing more and more constantly lately, but I feel compelled to address more than just gay relationships. And thus I start:

Duncan mentioned he feels like an outsider amongst the gays. I agree, I do too. I am not sure if we really are or if it’s that innate “quality” many gay men share to feel out of place. I’d like to thing it’s the former. There is also a big age difference between me and him and thus I believe that, in my case, I am still maturing, and although I feel somewhat more connected to “the gays”, I also feel a bigger rift. I am sure I’m not making much sense but as I elaborate I hope it becomes more clear.

He talks about two friends of his coming out of the closet and the different approach they took, one being a bit more in control of his situation vs. the other letting himself indulge in the many decadent pleasures that being gay offers. It is not until recently that I can say I’ve been delving in said pleasures. I used to be a prude. I used to be a saint. I used to never have casual sex nor do any drugs. Sometime between breaking up with my ex of four and a half years and moving to New York I lost my restraints. I am not sure what the reason for that was. I’ve thought it’s just my nature, I’ve thought it’s growing up (I’ve always been a late bloomer), I’ve thought it’s something deeper, even spiritual. Whatever the catalysts, I am somewhat content with who I’m becoming. This is not to say that I am the party and play (for those of you who don’t know, that means unprotected sex and meth) type, not at all, but I am more relaxed and enjoying more what being gay has offered me. I’ve been told many a times: “you are young, beautiful, smart, and fun to be around, enjoy the opportunities that come with that”. For a while I fought my instincts, but I’ve been realizing that the more you fight them, the more you end up making stupid decisions when you have one too many cocktails and your inhibitions are low. Really, it’s OK to have a fuck buddy, it’s OK to date multiple guys at a time, and hell! it might even be OK to have an “open relationship”. Who am I to judge? I’ve certainly never been one to judge others on these accounts, so why judge myself?

Like I’ve said, maybe this whole move to New York has had a bigger influence than I thought in who I’m becoming. After all, bars close later, there’s more options, and since there’s no driving, there’s also higher levels of intoxication. Duncan pointed out the difference between us New York gays and our West Coast counterparts (more specifically, LA). I couldn’t agree more! We are like water and oil. For how tolerant we claim to be, there is definitely a more understated segregation in this city. New York gay men don’t mingle as often with the rest of the people who live in this island. Maybe we have more options, maybe we’re more “European”, whatever it is we just don’t. I’m surprised at how I never go to straight bars in this city. Back in LA those were the only bars I would frequent. Consequently, I’d safely say that the majority of my going out friends here are gay. In LA I could count the ‘mos I considered friends with the fingers in one hand.

Furthermore, the gay “scene” in LA is not as diverse as it is here. We have so many more subcultures. I no longer hang out with my New York friends who I used to visit when I lived back in the West Coast. I’ve found my own niche. I find them too tame for my taste. They are looking for something that I might’ve wanted a long time ago but, to be honest, I’m not even really sure I did anymore. They are more Chelsea than Brooklyn/East Village (and it pains me to use those terms, but they kind of lend themselves to give a broader explanation of what I’m trying to say). They are concerned with their looks, their outfits, their professional success, their “aura”. They go out looking for kindred spirits who also go to the gym religiously, manscape, get some “color” for the beach, and wear color pants during the summer. They want to get married (because they can now!), and buy a house in the village. They want to adopt a foreign baby and assist PTA meetings with their heterosexual neighbors.

I might sound like I’m contradicting myself. What I mean to say is they want to settle down and blend in, but blend in as the token gays they feel the need to portray. It is not going forward, it is going backwards. It is saying: “yes, we’re gay and we’re fighting for equality, and look at us! we’re just like you!” We are different. I seek integration, not assimilation. I refuse to fit the mold I’m expected to fit. I want to celebrate what makes us different and embrace it like I embrace others’ difference. I don’t need a high paying job, a beautiful husband, a summer house, and offspring to feel accomplished and I don’t appreciate being told I do. So what if I enjoy being single? So what if I enjoy going out every day of the week? So what if I enjoy having two or three reliable fuck buddies who don’t want to “settle” either? So what if the thought of children makes my stomach turn, but puppies make me feel warm inside? I’m not being scared and noncommittal. I am perfectly comfortable with my choices and, as far as I’m concerned, I’m being a deeper, more conscious gay than my peers and focusing on more important matters.

I am far from perfect. The idea of an open relationship is not for everyone, I don’t even know if it’s for me. I find it ridiculous when I meet guys who are in them. To me it’s insecurity. To me it’s being afraid of sleeping alone at night. To me it’s being greedy. If you’re having fun with someone, why put labels? Honestly, I’m a bit concerned with DJ and how things are evolving. I don’t want to date him. I want to casually see him, and be single. I want to date other people. I want to be my own person. I have a dog. I enjoy going to dinner and a movie on a date with myself. I want to keep it that way. I am quite disappointed with the human race, and I’m trying to stay away from their norms. It is a big turn off when I meet a guy (and I’ve met plenty!) who have a boyfriend yet flirt like hell with me (or others!). Are you that scared to be on your own and have lots of flirts, fucks, friends, whatevers? I don’t want to be one of them either. ‘Fixie’ opened my eyes and, although I don’t agree 100% with how he lives his life, I do love how honest and upfront he is about it. He is a realist and a very responsible human being. He fights the good fight when it needs to be fought despite the fact that many judge his lifestyle. I don’t.

There is a lot of judgment towards gays. Some heterosexuals see us as debaucherous hedonists, but it doesn’t stop there. Within ourselves we judge the shit out of each other. I’m not surprised, after all, part of being “gay” is being bitchy, right? We have to strive to be better than that. We have to accept ourselves and each other before we can expect others to do the same. Does it “get better”? Great question. It does. Slowly, but we’re loosing more and more of us to many issues and we have to stop! We are pushing ourselves to rebel in the wrong ways. We are pushing ourselves to overindulge in what makes us different. We are perpetuating the stereotypes on both ends and simultaneously creating a greater rift and bridge between us. We are pushing those who won’t conform further away, yet we are embracing those who do more and more. It is not about assimilation, because all that does is segregate those who won’t assimilate. In a perfect world we would just welcome each others’ dissimilarities and thus ending the taboos. We are human and, as such, we have a rebellious nature. If we’re told not to do something or that something is wrong, we do it more. That is why some gays feel the need to go overboard, because if they’re going to get blamed for something, then they might as well give the world a reason to do so.

The title of this entry is a quote from a friend when we were talking about how another friend of us was going crazy when he moved to New York. Sadly, that’s more common than we’d like it to be. This city is intoxicating, and if you don’t have a good head on your shoulders, you better grown one fast or you’re going to loose it. I’ve been badgering the so called “assimilating gays”, and maybe that’s the case because I tend to identify a bit more with the other side, but I wouldn’t be fair if I didn’t further address the other spectrum as well because, really, they both have similar issues, just different ways of approaching them. There are a lot of drugs and promiscuity on both sides, but I do feel like it is better to just come to terms with that. Like I said, the more taboo we make it, the more tempting it is, and the more unsafe it can become. The “dirty” gays, as some of our counterparts might deem us (and I include myself in this group just because like I said, if anything, I feel I’d fit more on this side, as opposed to the other), can be actually dirty but, honestly, we’re just more upfront. We love sex, we love to party, we love to indulge but, just like everything, there’s degrees of that. I can say that while I know a lot of the ones on the darker side of the spectrum, I’ve also met quite a few clean “dirty” gays. DJ for example. Just like ‘Fixie’, he has a good head on his shoulder. He is upfront, and very open. We often talk about our experiences with other boys and, to me, this brings a certain level of comfort. If you’re going to be fucking around, at least I want to know. It is not, by any means, typical behavior on either end. We are not looking for a committed relationship and kids, but we are also not fucking for the sake of fucking.

I am not the saint of tolerance, I am aware, but I strive to be. It might be conflicting for me to state that and go on a rant about all this but, if you want to be a practically straight homosexual or a deranged liberine , then do so, but only by your own account, not because you’re expected to.

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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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19.08.2011

Grind Date No. 12: Gilty

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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the.applied.process.

Category: Life

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…

21.08.2011

Money changes everything.

20.08.2011

“To be young, rich, and gay… and in New York. It’s a mouthful. Literally”

20.08.2011

Oh What a Night!

19.08.2011

Family, Fuck Buddies, and Fuckin’ Beyonce!

19.08.2011

Grind Date No. 12: Gilty