“Love” | the.applied.process.

16.09.2011

Everybody’s Working for the Weekend

“Everybody’s workin’ for the weekend, everybody wants a new romance. Everybody’s goin’ off the deep end, everybody needs a second chance”.

As I stated, I left DJ’s very excited to finally get a weekend sans boys to catch some breath and spend some time with my other neglected friends. As soon as I got home from the East Village, I got ready for work and biked across the exhausting Williamsburg bridge and into SoHo. I spent the day at work writing on the blog and making plans for future travels with ‘The Lady of Derbishire’. That evening, we left work and went to the Alex Katz opening at Gavin Brown. Openings are somewhat funny to me, just like the fashion industry, the art world is filled with interesting characters and it’s always fun to go to these places and people watch. We stayed for about an hour and then ‘The Lady of Derbishire’ left with a friend for dinner, and I went to one of the Greeks’ apartment to wait for ‘Jose Maria’ and go to dinner ensemble.

The Greeks had decided to try Fatty Crab. It was a Saturday night and we knew that everywhere we went would have a massive wait, so I jokingly suggested Chipotle. My fast food Mexican suggestion got vetoed promptly. I suggested that if we did do Fatty Crab, we try the one in the Upper West Side which is usually pretty relaxed and not crazy busy. I called the restaurant to make sure we’d get a table before we took a cab all the way up there. I was told that at the most we’d wait 20 minutes, so off we went to unfamiliar territories. One of the Greeks joked: “The Upper West Side is the new hip Saturday night spot”. I felt slightly more like a local, having bypassed the usual and tiring spots/neighborhoods for something much nicer, less crowded, and very understated.

As promised, we were seated promptly. Me and ‘Jose Maria’, being the two Fatty Crab veterans, ordered all the dishes for our virgin friend. On the menu: steamed veggie and pork buns, charred squid, the malay fish fry, two of the daily specials (one shrimp, one fish), some meat dish (which I didn’t partake in), and a healthy lesson in what it means to be gay (or really, just yourself) in New York. Dinner was delicious, as always, the conversation went smoothly, not because my poor Greek friend took it well, but because he is sort of a ditz and it all went right over his head. It was like feeding pearls to the swine, but even though I’m a pescatarian, I sill like my bacon.

After dinner I suggested we go to Hell’s Kitchen for some atypical gay bar fun. Next time I suggest such thing, please shoot me. We were absolutely miserable. I forgot why we never go above the 20’s. A drink’s time is as much as we could all handle, so we left and decided to go 180 degrees from there and into The Eagle. Again, it was going from one extreme to the other, one that I much prefer, but still find equally taxing. I don’t like these niche gays and their niche bars. This time, we stayed for twice as long: two drinks.

Looking to redeem the evening we cabbed it to “church” for my third night in a row. One of the Greeks left, ‘Jose Maria’ tagged along. He was outside smoking a cigarette when I went in to sneak a peak. It was a bit too much, and I was already quite tired and drunk so I went back outside and told him I was just going home. He asked me to chaperone him to Boiler Room where he had some unfinished business with two of his suitors. I reluctantly did because I couldn’t find a cab. After dropping him off, I went outside to have a cigarette, look for a taxi, and managed to hop in a car with two people going to Brooklyn. They dropped me off a few blocks away, I gave them 5 dollars, and I walked home to my lovely dog. My much needed time alone had finally come.

Sunday morning I got to work on time, surprisingly. I was blissfully excited all day and counting the nanoseconds till the True Blood season finale that night. I decided to invite people over for a finale party. Right after work I rushed home, cleaned up my somewhat messy apartment and waited for my guests. Only two people showed up (‘Fixie’ and ‘The Cock of the North’s’ wife), which was quite comfortable and nice. We played the second to last episode and sipped on some Red as we ate some deli sandwiches and discussed the season’s highlights. Once 9 pm hit, the room went silent for a somewhat disappointing hour. The episode was not what I expected, regardless we enjoyed it extensively.

After the post finale wrap up, ‘The Cock of the North’s’ wife left. Me and ‘Fixie’ went out for a few drinks at The Woods where one of the Frenchies was having his farewell cocktails. I didn’t really want to go because I rarely have fun and also I knew he’d just broken up with his ex (as expected by every single person who knows them), and I wasn’t in the mood to hear all the bullshit that comes with that. Regardless, a pickleback or two sounded good. After filling our quota we left and walked to The Abbey for a few more rounds. I was expecting to run into ‘Nickle’ who had just gotten back from his weekend wedding trip in Montauk, but he was still in the city with his best friend. Me and ‘Fixie’ were tired and headed back home to rewatch the season finale. He didn’t last long. I stayed up for a bit longer texting with ‘Nickle’ who ended up coming over after he got back to Brooklyn and stopped by The Abbey to say hi to his friend. I suppose my boy free wedding was over.

“You want a piece of my heart? you better start from start. You wanna be in the show? come on baby, let’s go!”

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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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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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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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24.06.2011

About love and other drugs.

A few days ago I heard a friend said his friend said he wanted to meet someone who he can loose his hair with and not care. I found this an extreme statement of what I guess “true love” is. I was listening to Florence and the Machine on shuffle earlier and the song “you’ve got the love” started playing. I’d heard this song many times before even before Florence did her take on it. I started thinking: now that’s true love. I understand what loosing hair is supposed to mean, but I don’t really care nor have major insecurities about my looks. I do, however, have a major issue with my anxiety. It is a very private thing. People don’t get to see it because: a) it’s not their problem, b) it’s very personal and they don’t deserve to, c) it’s embarrassing. For those of you who’ve seen it full fledged, and I have fingers left on one hand to count how many have been “lucky”, you know it’s not a pretty thing.

Anyway… I related to the song because I guess if I was to find true love, I’d probably find it in the person who not only is OK with my anxiety and my self medication, as opposed to conventional treatment, but also, the person I feel worthy and comfortable enough to let them see it. It’s true love, a somewhat godly, selfless appreciation for another being. All or nothing. Ever inviting. Ever embracing. Ever comforting. That one safe haven you, or at least my crazy Pisces self, run to when feeling threatened.

I know it sounds too utopian and absurd. It should be. Love is not as easily found as we like to believe. For those of you who think I like to portray a heartless, numb asshole, you’re wrong and you’re right. You’re right in the sense that yes, I’m very emotional and a hopeless romantic, as you claim I truly am, and as every Pisces usually is… but you’re wrong in the sense that I do sometimes strive to be a numb, heartless asshole. It’s not a facade. Because more than heartless, I’m quite hopeless… I don’t find it easy for others to share my very specific mindset… and thus, I refuse to waste time. After all, I do firmly believe that the whole idea of finding a partner and settling down in order to be happy and have a fulfilled life is completely ridiculous and needs to be eradicated from the human zeitgeist. We can be perfectly fulfilled and happy flying solo. So unless my equally demented prince charming/clone comes, this toad is remaining amphibian.

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Category: “Love”