Life | the.applied.process.

18.08.2011

Grind Date No. 11: Rick.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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16.08.2011

Untitled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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15.08.2011

Let the good times roll!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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10.08.2011

I just realized I don’t have a Category for ‘Love’ in here… and I like it.

I wanted to write an entry about my thoughts on the original L word (not the lezzy show). I’m not quite positive what my stance is, as I’m sure a lot of you aren’t either, but I’m just going to ramble back and forth and see if it makes sense to me, and to you?

As the title states, I haven’t created a category for ‘Love’ on this blog. It struck me a bit odd when, first, I had a reason to look for one and, second, I realized I didn’t have one. It made me think about the recent, yet long way in the making, change of my views on love and relationships. I personally believe that sex is in one way or another a spiritual exchange, and whatever your spirit is/acts/feels can be transmuted when it comes in contact, in this case sex, with other spirits, adopting parts of the way they are/act/feel. It sounds crazy, but stop and think about it, it’ll make sense.

The reason I bring this whole spirit thing is because I believe that that faithful night my spirit connected with ‘Fixie’s’, I changed. My spirit felt a certain freedom it hadn’t felt, and it liked it. It became inebriated with the intoxicating flavor of sexual unrestraint. Maybe I’m being ridiculous, and all that happened is that I simply became more relaxed because the more you fuck around the less you care about it, but somehow this feels more than just mere coincidence to me.

Furthermore, and I know this is obvious, fooling around with ‘Fixie’ strengthened ten fold my attraction to him. No I’m not in love, no matter how often I say it out loud to my friends. I am just severely infatuated and I enjoy being so. I enjoy the slight burn that comes with having a crush and watching them go home with another guy. I enjoy the fantasy I create about a possible love that will never happen for many reasons on both parts. I enjoy the maturity it’s given me as I realize and learn to differentiate love vs infatuation vs a crush vs a platonic whatever, and how I’ve evolve from being(or rather… never became) the regular faggot who looks for love every night at bars and at the first sight of attention starts planning his future wedding to a guy who is really just drunk and looking for a fuck. A friend of mine once wrote: “I’m sick of falling head first, for anything that’ll take me to bed”. I found this quote very true to the way many gays see their lays. I’m not saying I was never there, in a sense I was… but long time ago. I can see each guy for what he is and what relationship I have with them, and I’ll explain.

DJ is a fuck buddy. A good one at that. I like the progression of what I have with him from only fooling around Wednesday nights after work and not even talking the rest of the week, to the first time he booty texted me to come over on a Thursday (shocking!), to the time he invited me to Fire Island (we’ve never seen each other outside of a bar or his apartment), to the very casual booty texts we shoot each other now and how nonchalant we both are about it (if it happens, it happens). I like that he gives me my place, whatever that is, in front of others, always introducing me and kissing me regardless of who’s there. I like that we both understand that sex is not really in the equation, anilingus and cuddling on the other hand? yes. I like that I can see him kiss other guys and it means nothing to me.

A similar situation happens with ‘Fixie’. I have been obsessed with this man ever since I first met him last October at a pumpkin carving party somewhere off the G train. He was dating someone at the time, and within minutes of meeting him he was talking about having to go to the clinic the following morning to get tested for gonorrhea. So brash. So bold. I loved it. I ran into him a few more times because he was good friends with my friend’s lover. Each time I became more and more obsessed with this man’s beauty, yet more and more cautious about developing feelings because the more and more that I knew him, the more and more I realized we were somewhat polar opposites (or so I thought). His relationship with his ex didn’t last long, and on a faithful cold winter night (I believe it was my birthday), we kissed. I was happier than a fat kid at Chilli’s. The kissing continued sporadically. The tension was felt by others who pointed out we should just fuck. We both agreed it would happen in due time.

To this day, it’s yet to happen, but our relationship has evolved into something I quite enjoy and could do with instead of what most people look for in a relationship. To begin, there is no “relationship”. It is just a friendship. A friendship where we can grab a drink and make out right after we talk about how much this boy or that boy suck. A friendship where we can fool around (although it’s only happened once), and go back to just friends the next morning. No awkwardness there. A friendship where I can tell him about my issues, and he can tell me about his, and we can see each other with other people and it means nothing. I will admit that my crush for him is probably bigger than his crush for me, and thus from time to time I have felt a bit weird when I see him with others (shoot me, I’m human! yet I’m trying to go beyond being one), but that all goes away the moment I remember he’s not doing it to instigate, and he always comes back to show me how I’m not less, or more than the other boys, but equal. I like it. It makes me level headed.

‘Fixie’ has also taught me a lot about a new way of looking at relationships and love, hence why I said I thought we were polar opposites, but maybe not so much. When I hear him talking about it, it sounds so far beyond what anyone can hope to understand, that it almost makes sense. His main issue with other boys is that, as he puts it, he needs a boyfriend who is fine with an open relationship, and about four fuck buddies with no emotional attachment who are just that: fuck buddies. I think it’s brilliant! Not sure if it’s necessarily brilliant for me, but it sure sounds more logical than any of the other bullshit I hear about finding “the one”. We are human, we are males, we are gay! It is a bitch to fight against our nature, and I honestly refuse to believe that in order to feel fully accomplished in my life, I need to find a life partner. If anything, I’m more inclined to believe in some sort of serial monogamy, but even then, I’m iffy.

I do not enjoy sleeping around. Are you kidding me? I have enough anxiety as it is. I’m a hypochondriac to the point where they’ve told me at the clinic I need to wait to get tested because there’s budget cuts, and I really have no reason to do so. I also have an immense phobia of entrusting my feelings to someone else. When you date someone, whether you like it or not, you end up surrendering so much of yourself that, if the other person chooses to, they can tear you to shreds. No Thank You! Been there, done that, and one time, although he didn’t take advantage of me in any way, the break up was a bitch. No sir, not worth it. Dating is also very exhausting. I am very career driven, independent, and have lots of friends, and I really don’t have time to spend on dates that will most likely go nowhere. If I had a crystal ball and could see into the future, then I’d give them boys a chance, but leaving it all to chance? I’d rather cuddle with my pup, and jack off if I’m horny.

Now I know what you’re thinking: what about when we actually need that human contact? OK, here’s my answer: steady boys (yes, plural) you can count on for different purposes. We have DJ for fooling around, ‘Fixie’ for a beer and some making out with the occasional sexual tension that might escalate into something else, and now I feel I might need another one for a more emotional connection who isn’t looking to get married and set home together. Would I have a boyfriend? I don’t know. I think ideally, I’d enjoy someone who maybe doesn’t even live in the same city, but is not a complete slut. Someone who I can date, talk to on the phone, send sexy pictures to, and visit every now and then, but understands that maybe, since we don’t live near each other, or since we have separate very busy lives, we might not see each other for a while and it’s fine if during those times you slip and snog another lad, or ejaculate in a different bed (condoms involved please), and who also doesn’t use this just as an excuse just to fuck around. I haven’t put this into practice and I’m not sure if I could handle it emotionally and physically, but it sounds way more appealing than any of the other options that have been given to me by society.

At this point, I’ve come to terms with the fact that the male species is a flawed one and, as I was telling my friend yesterday, although I do believe in “the one”, I might never run into him/her (no, people, I’m not saying I’m looking for a girl!) because it’s harder than finding a fart in a sand storm so, in the mean time, there’s plenty of other almost “the one’s” out there for me to enjoy. It’s kind of like winning the lottery, and I’ve wasted enough dollar bills trying to do so. I think it’s time to settle for some scratchers.

P.S. check out the new category I just made.

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07.08.2011

A new exercise in quick entries: part deux.

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

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

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

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

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06.08.2011

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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06.08.2011

Grind Date No. 10: Boricuan Benefactee

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

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

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

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

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

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

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04.08.2011

A new exercise in quick entries. I failed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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02.08.2011

Grind Date No. 9: FiDi.

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

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

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

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

Saturday ensued more texting. No official meet yet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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30.07.2011

Post-mo? Post-no!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Category: Life