Nightlife | the.applied.process.

15.08.2011

Let the good times roll!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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07.08.2011

A new exercise in quick entries: part deux.

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

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

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

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

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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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29.07.2011

two months of anxiety for a few seconds of wild sex

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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26.07.2011

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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24.07.2011

Bye bye ‘Bucky’…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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22.07.2011

weekend boyfriends!!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Category: Nightlife