Sex | the.applied.process.

Home

“Well, hot & heavy, pumpkin pie, chocolate candy, Jesus Christ! There ain’t nothin’ please me more than you”

On my first day as a coupled man, I was beaming and happy and somehow got to work in time. It was gonna be a long day and I was anxious (in a good way) to get it done or at least get it started. Upon arriving at the office, I told ‘The Cock of the North’ I now had a boyfriend. His first response was asking me “who?” and “why?” since I’ve been so adamant about staying single. After I mentioned it was ‘Nickle’, who he’s met, he said: “Congratulations!”. It felt good to hear he approved. I also called ‘Jose Maria’ who gave me an “I know”.

Wednesday night my friend ‘Geordie-Mo’ was coming to town from London and staying with me. Sadly, I also had the work anniversary dinner to attend and I was leaving to film a documentary in Texas the next morning, so I wasn’t going to spend much time with him, but I told him after dinner I’d meet for drinks at “the church” and also introduce him to my new man, who I wanted him to meet, but also I was just looking for excuses to see ‘Nickle’ again.

And thus the plans happened as planned. The coworkers and I met at the office, toasted to some champagne, and headed to dinner at Norwood Club. It was a nice soiree. It went on for slightly longer that I would’ve wanted to, but only because I had other engagements to attend. ‘Nickle’ kept texting me constantly, I believe he was a bit drunk, and at some point he texted me the three little words a lot of people dread: “I Love You”. I excused myself from the dinner table, went to have a cigarette and called him. I told him not to say such things.

*side note: here’s my thing about the “I love you”. I do not mind it at all. I believe that especially in America, it has a stronger meaning than what it should have which was my main reason why I wanted to talk to ‘Nickle’. I have said “I love you” pretty early in a relationship, and although we’ve only been officially dating for a day, we’ve been hanging out for 7 weeks now, so I can understand why he could potentially go there but, like I said, I just want him to be sure he’s saying it because he does, and not because he’s idolizing me or something of the sort, after all, I do have my flaws. The way I see it, I do reciprocate, but the fact that I love him does not mean “I LOVE HIM” in the sense most people tend to think. I love him and I will continue to do so and that love will continue to grow, which I feel is healthier than a loaded “I love you” which has been held back for a while for fear of releasing the meaning we’ve attached to it.*

Back to the story. So yes, I told him not to say that, but I told him I wanted to see him in person later to talk about it. I went back downstairs, had another drink, split the bill with my coworkers, and cabbed it to “the church” where ‘Jose Maria’ and ‘Geordie-Mo’ were waiting. I greeted my brit with a huge hug and a kiss. We hung out and caught up over about three drinks, and a few more cigarettes. Even though he was here, the night was pretty standard. We left because I mentioned I wanted to go see ‘Nickle’ so he could meet ‘Geordie-Mo’.

We cabbed it to, where else, The Abbey, where I also greeted my new boyfriend with a huge hug and a wetter kiss. I introduced the respective parties and continued drinking. Anxiety decided to knock on my right temporal lobe’s door. I went into panic mode over the fact that I was now dating someone. I won’t delve into this right now, I want to write an entry about it, but at some point ‘Nickle’ mentioned he could see I was really scared, and I think I shed a couple of tears. We all went home. I went to bed with my man (it feels good to say that), and ‘Jose Maria’ and ‘Geordie-Mo’ slept together on the couch.

Thursday my handsome boyfriend left early for work. ‘Jose Maria’ left shortly after. I woke up, finished packing, and headed to Union Square to drop off my dog at a pet hotel and then grabbed a bite at Fatty Snack, the Fatty Crab owned food stand on Madison Square Park. We then walked over to ‘The Lady of Derbyshire’s’ apartment to catch a cab to the airport and head to Marfa, Texas. God was I not ready for this.

The Marfa experience was a cluster fuck of desolate West Texas ghost towns, constant fear of desert critters, interesting (and I cannot stress that enough) insane characters, no first world commodities, run-ins with the border patrol, and one of the most amazing experiences ever all rolled up into one with a scary Texas Chainsaw Massacre-esque vibe.

Let me begin by mentioning how excited I was about this. ‘The Lady of Derbyshire’ had mentioned she had a documentary to film as part of her graduating project and had asked if I wanted to join. The subject would be Dragset and Elmgreen’s Prada Marfa installation in the Chihuahua desert, as well as a story on the site representative and artist, Boyd Elder. I’d been obsessed with said installation for a few years now and, realizing it was in the middle of nowhere, figured I wouldn’t make the trip solely to see it unless an opportunity like this presented itself, so I agreed. We’d planned the trip for a while and that Thursday we started the 12 hour long journey that turned into 15 because of all the flight delays.

We got to El Paso quite late. We quickly headed to Walmart, picked up a few indispensable items (wine and cigarettes in my case, food in hers), and started the 3 hour drive to Marfa. It was scary. I’m talking about driving in the middle of a two lane highway with no lights other than the car’s with the occasional eerie sighting of things you can’t quite seem to describe what they are.

Sometime after driving for 2 and a bit hours we saw it. RIght there, in the middle of the road, a bright chartreuse rectangular beacon illuminating the barren landscape. We passed it and stopped, then reversed towards it. It was magical. My first impression tho, I was expecting something bigger, but there’s definitely no denying its striking presence. Obviously, we took a few pictures until we got approached by border patrol (for the second time so far) who asked for our ID’s and after proving our legal right to be in this country, wished us luck on our project.

We drove for another half hour to the town of Marfa where we were to spend the night. The apartment we rented was nice, except for its name and what it entailed: the yellow door. It was aptly decorated by hues of the aforementioned. I hate the color yellow. I drank a bottle of wine and dozed off.

Friday we woke up early and drove to the sight to begin shooting. I was in charge of the more “creative” shots. I had never handled a semi-professional video camera in my life, but somehow, I was surprised how natural it felt. Then I remembered how nifty I am and the surprise fade away. After about an hour of filming, Boyd Elder, the man of the hour, joined us with his mother. First impression: the guy looked insane but right off the bat I liked him. He was very nice and quite the character. His mother, a 90+ year old woman, was the same: incredibly nice and keen, yet she looked scarily aged. He invited us over to their place in the town of Valentine just a couple miles south of Prada Marfa. Again, his house was just like a set of a slasher movie: old, run down, and in the middle of nowhere. I have to make it clear that I am not trying to be demeaning here, to say they were incredibly hospitable is an understatement. I’m just pointing out the shock I experienced due to the contrast of what I’m used to.

We talked for a bit as he gave us a tour of his property. His studio was insane, but the stories were even crazier. This man has had such an amazing life, and the list of names he mentioned as close friends are enough to make any dumb big city socialite stick their head in the ground. The Eagles, Joni Mitchel, Ed Ruscha, Donald Judd, Razorlight, you name it. Old and new. Music and art. Hollywood. New York. Europe. He has it covered, and yet you’d never expect it from looking at him. Never judge a book by its cover has never been more true.

After a few hours we headed back to Marfa to get ready for an art opening at Ballroom Marfa, the nonprofit local art space. One of the things that struck me the most about this town was how even with its population of two thousand, it feels very international. People from all over fly to either of the two closest airports and drive for a couple hours to come to the different events that happen throughout the year. I met a lot of people from New York, and the east coast. I saw a few more that dressed the part so I assumed were also from out of town. We stayed till close and went back to our apartment. Boyd called us and invited us to the after party. We obliged and walked to Capri Lounge, another great old adobe building converted into a spectacular space that marries traditional with modern so seamlessly it almost feels indigenous.

We mingled a bit more, met a few key pieces of the Marfa community, and watched an all girl mariachi band perform. Still tired from the trip we called it an early night. I drank another bottle, ‘The Lady of Derbyshire’ conversed with the pillow. I briefly talked to ‘Nickle’ who’d been texting me like crazy all day. He’d been professing all these things to me that to be honest made me more anxious. I don’t know where he’s getting all these strong emotions from, but they’re scary. It feels nice, but almost too nice to where I want to run away. I had anxiety all day, but somehow, the thought of that nightcap made me somewhat hold it together. I talked to ‘Jose Maria’ as well and passed out.

Saturday we had plans for more shooting and at some point in the evening head 2 hours south west to some hot springs. I am not the biggest nature fan, and after hearing from the locals that these hot springs had no phone reception at all, I was a bit more apprehensive about going. Nevertheless, I always give things a shot. We spent the day with Boyd at his studio taking some more video, and driving around his town to other parts of this decaying community of less than 50 people. He took us to an abandoned theatre he plans on restoring and making his new studio. Again, it was very different from what I’m used to so I gladly welcomed the experience. At around 4 pm and after receiving lots of food from his garden, we took off and headed back to Marfa. We interviewed some of the people behind the Ballroom who sponsored the Prada Marfa project. Their house, again, was an amazing restored army barrack who’s original structure was left intact, and was just restored to rival any fancy apartment in New York. It was stunning.

The interview went on for a bit longer than expected, but by around 6:30 pm we were on our way south to Chinati to disconnect from the world even more.

The trip was a pain in the ass. The sun was slowly but surely setting, and we had limited amount of time to get there before we were left again in the dark, except this time it was off road. Unfortunately, the sun beat us and we ended up driving in a very scary dark dirt road for about 45 minutes till we finally found our destination. Naturally, we didn’t go in the hot springs. It was already dark, we were terrified of desert creatures, and there were lots of children around. We just drank wine, chatted a bit and passed out. I tried contacting ‘Nickle’ who was being a bit crazy (by my weird bias I have) but not as much, but was quite unsuccessful because of the lack of signal.

The next morning we woke up and went to the springs for 45 minutes. We had an interview to shoot at around 1pm so we left the “resort” and headed back home. Another run-in with border patrol.

We got back to the apartment and freshened up and headed back out to record the ex-mayor of Marfa talk about the piece. The man was also very nice. It seems like everybody who’s there is there because they truly love the town, and they all seem quite happy. I’m baffled because I think I’d go crazy… then again, they all are significantly older than me.

After the interview he took us to another house he owned that was, just like the house we’d seen the night before, amazingly restored and enviable. I’m beginning to notice a trend here, and maybe a reason why these people love this little shit town so much. Funny thing: you will find a yarn store, but a decent place to eat food in the morning or night? No sir, no way.

We went to the neighbor town of Alpine to buy some DVD’s to burn and dump some of the vast files we’ve amounted, and after doing so, we headed back to Prada. This time we planned on actually interviewing Boyd, but despite being an angel, the man is not the easiest person to work with. That, on top of the fact that we weren’t properly prepared with charged batteries or free memory cards, prevented the interview from actually happening. Instead, we went to the installation site and filmed a time lapse of the sunset. It turned out nice.

At around 8:30 pm, we drove back to Marfa in the pitch of darkness. We cooked the food we planned on grilling the night before at the springs, I drank another bottle of wine, and talked to both ‘Jose Maria’ and ‘Nickle’. The former helped me relax a bit, the latter wasn’t being as crazy, which I attribute to him not being as drunk as he sometimes is. I feel like I should talk to him about it, and I probably will. I’m just not sure when because I feel it’d be hypocritical, but I do worry sometimes. Regardless, always happy to talk to him, and despite the massive anxiety I’m getting about him and the trip, I wouldn’t change it. I went to bed with yet another smiley face.

Monday was a long day. We woke up early and, as promised to ‘The Lady of Derbyshire’, I made a soyrizo scramble for breakfast. It wasn’t as good as usual, but still better than most the food we’ve been having. We started the day by interviewing the architect of the installation, and then the head of the local newspaper. Nothing really stood out about either, except for maybe the kindness of the first, the nervousness of the second, and the trio of turkeys crossing the road in between both interviews.

As expected, we rushed back to Valentine and the Prada Marfa site. We met up with Boyd and finally got some kind of interview. We then went with him to the theatre he’s restoring to meet with a group of Architecture students from some University in the north of Texas who were doing a project helping restore the site. Me and ‘The Lady of Derbyshire’ started joking about deciphering the boys’ sexuality. We headed back to Prada, did some more sunset shots, and another interview with Boyd, and then drove him back to where the students were camping. We had a delicious dinner with them. Probably the best food I had the whole time I was in Texas, which is disappointing considering I was expecting gaining a few pounds of amazing Tex-Mex morsels. We drank a couple of beers, saw a baby tarantula, and drove back home. Another bottle of wine, a few episodes of TV shows I’ve been meaning to catch up on, another lovely call to my boyfriend who was sober and going to bed surprisingly early, and I called it a night.

Tuesday all I could think of was going home! Like I said, I had my ups and my downs, definitely an experience I was glad to have had, but not sure it’s necessarily my cup of tea for more than 3 days. This city mouse is ready to leave the country vermin to their own environment and head back to rummaging the New York City Subway tunnels. We did a couple of last minute shots in the morning, one of Boyd’s art at some rich lady’s expectedly beautiful house, and another one of the Chinati foundation and Donald Judd’s sculptures. We stopped by a gift shop, bought a couple of souvenirs, and headed to Valentine to bid adieu to our West Texas friends.

It wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be. No waterworks despite the fact that I got surprisingly attached to some of the characters in the documentary.

We drove back to El Paso, had lunch at some awful pseudo-Mexican restaurant, and boarded a flight back to Dallas, and then New York. I am typing this on the latter. It’s almost time to land and I cannot be more excited. I get to see my boyfriend. I get to see my dog. I get to see a decent bar. But above all, I get to come to my own personal haven. I believe that the recent changes in my relationship status have a lot to do with how bad my anxiety has been, but also, the trip drained me. I love traveling and I enjoy my friends but every now and then I like to know I can just go and lock myself in my room if I need a moment to breath. Again, where were my ruby slippers?

“Ahh, Home! Let me come Home! Home is wherever I’m with you.”

Leave a comment

03.10.2011

You Give Me Something

“I was meant to tread the water, now I’ve gotten in too deep. For every piece of me that wants you, another piece backs away.”

Preamble to a pivotal moment.

Friday I worked. Nothing special nothing new. After work I had plans to finally have the toga party I’d been organizing with ‘Fixie’ and ‘Viquers’ and then meet ‘Nickle’ at a karaoke bar in China Town for his friend’s birthday. The first part of the evening fell through and the second one wasn’t going to start till much later so I met ‘Jose Maria’ for dinner. We went to BarMarche on Spring and Elizabeth because I’d been wanting to try their famous shrimp risotto. I was disappointed. However, I had a great time as I spent most of it advocating for my behavior and my emotions to ‘Jose Maria’ who was questioning my recent affair with ‘Nickle’.

We left the restaurant, met up with ‘John G’, and walked to China Town to sing some out-of-tune tunes with ‘Nickle’ and co. My future exboyfriend was late, and I wasn’t planning on staying long. I was still in a weird game playing mode, despite not really wanting to. I feel like more than playing games, I’m trying to conserve who I am and not just let myself go completely because I don’t like myself much when I do. I only stayed for a drink after drunken ‘Nickle’ came and I left with my peeps to go meet some of ‘Jose Maria’s’ friends at Boxers in Chelsea.

The bar was horrible. I had never been but I could not find a redeeming quality for it, other than maybe I got to hang out with a questionably straight friend of his friends who I used to think was very good looking till I saw pictures of him all trimmed and proper. Again, we didn’t stay long. A couple of cocktails and awkward moments later we were out the door to meet more of ‘Jose Maria’s’ circle at a different part of town.

The night led us to the appropriately named Hell’s Kitchen to a bar called Industry. Being well aware that said bar was not going to redeem the evening I started drinking more and planning my escape. There is really nothing worthy of telling other than I met a boy who ‘Jose Maria’ likes who I thought was somewhat cute and decided to flirt a bit with him just because, I wasn’t going to do anything at all, just wanted to see what the boy would do. I stepped outside with ‘John G’ and we opted for heading home without saying goodbyes, much like I sometimes do when I’m drunk, bored, and have better plans in mind.

Before heading home, I stopped at ‘The Abbey’ where I naturally ran into ‘Nickle’. I had a couple of drinks with him and we went back to my place. I really enjoy his company more and more every day yet, at the same time, I’m somewhat hypocritically concerned with his drinking habits. I rarely see the man sober, and I’d really like to, yet I don’t feel it’s my place to say so. We sloppily cuddled and passed out.

Saturday morning I met ‘The Lady of Derbishire’ at her school so she could show me some pointers about how to use the equipment we were going to take on an upcoming trip to Marfa, TX to film a short documentary she needs in order to graduate. We showed up at work a bit late and spent most of the slow day planning the rest of our trip and looking for Yankee tickets. I had decided the night before that rain or shine and despite the price I was going to see the Yankees before the season was over. I posted my plans on Facebook and asked in anyone was interested in joining me. One of ‘Nickle’s’ friends wanted to but our schedules didn’t mesh so I ended up buying two tickets for me and a coworker for Sunday evening.

After work I met ‘Jose Maria’ and his friend in the West Village for dinner. We went to a new place called Empellon. The food was a deliciously new take on Mexican. ‘Jose Maria’ had had a crazy night and me and his friend just kept trying to lighten the mood by casually teasing him about it.

When we left the restaurant, we witnessed a guy in his bike get hit by a cab who’d run a red light. The cab driver stupidly tried to argue his way out even though there were about 20 witnesses who clearly saw it was his fault. He then more stupidly took off without waiting for the cops. To be honest, I feel slightly bad for him, but that was a pretty retarded move. I stayed with the accidentee for half hour till the cops came and gave my info in case they needed my statement. ‘Freckles’, who was in town visiting and I’d met earlier in the day, showed up with ‘John G’ wanting to go dancing somewhere in the meat packing. ‘Jose Maria’, his friend, and I were not really in the mood so we tried diverting them to other bars. At some point, the ambiance changed and no one was really feeling it. Everybody was being undeceive and I got annoyed so I bailed on all of them and headed to Brooklyn. I was craving some ‘Nickle’ time. I met him at The Abbey for a few more rounds with his friends. Naturally, we got even more drunk and went home.

Sunday morning I woke up and fooled around with ‘Nickle’ for a brief bit. I rushed to work because I was opening and I was the only one with keys. As usual, I was a bit late but it wasn’t an issue. I had decided to make the day a short one as I had a Yankees game to go to. I spent most of the time training the new intern and wasting time watching youtube videos. We all left at around 6 pm and I headed to the stadium.

I was extremely excited for the game. I had never been to one and although I’m not a huge sports fan, I do love going to games. My coworker added to the excitement because she, as well as everyone around us, is an avid fan. The game, aside from the Yankees losing, did not disappoint me. It went into extra innings and I’d made it a mission to stay till the end. It only took 5 hours. ‘Jose Maria’ kept texting to meet up, but I didn’t. We left at around 11 and headed back to Brooklyn. Again, I went to The Abbey, met up with my handsome almost boyfriend, and decided to spend the night together. This time, however, we went to his place.

He lives a 10 minute bike ride from my place at a studio on the top floor with an awesome deck. He was a bit apprehensive about taking me there because, as he’s been before, he was a bit insecure about what I’d think. To be honest, I don’t get why. I am far from judgmental, and superficial things are never an issue.

I woke up when he was trying to kiss me goodbye, he offered I could stay and leave whenever as he had to work and I didn’t, but I didn’t feel I should the first night. I took off on my bike and went to see my dog. I spent most of the day running errands and I went to the IFC center to see “Weekend”. ‘Ursa’, the wife of ‘The Cock of the North’, texted me to invite me to go see Oh Land perform later that night but I had made plans with my friend ‘Bellefille’ to have dinner with ‘Jose Maria’, so after the movies I went to meet them a sushi bar in the West Village. I hadn’t see her in a few months so I couldn’t cancel, and I wanted to catch up. Luckily, ‘Ursa’ texted me saying the band wasn’t playing till 10:30 pm so I had time to do both and I told her I’d be there.

After dinner we went for a quick drink to ‘Bellefille’s’ new apartment she’d bought with her husband. The place was incredible, a three story penthouse in NoHo with magnificent views of downtown. We polished a bottle of champagne and I left.

The show was great. I’d seen Oh Land before but never a full set. After it was done I texted a friend from San Diego, ‘Baby’s Arm’, who was in town to come meet me for drinks at Swift on Bowery and 4th where I was going to meet ‘Nickle’. I can’t stop thinking about this man. I want to see him all the time. ‘Jose Maria’ joined as well. We had our first drink, and having to show my friend around we left and walked to The Boiler Room. Again, one drink and out the door we went. The next bar was The Cock, which ‘Baby’s Arm’ favored over the other two. It was getting kind of late and we were all ready for bed so, after another drink and some shots, my friend went back to his hotel and me and ‘Jose Maria’ went to Brooklyn. We stopped by The Abbey for a nightcap and then headed home. I had a massive anxiety attack over ‘Nickle’ and where things were going. As I’ve mentioned, I don’t enjoy losing control, or opening up.

As a somewhat predictable twist of fate, ‘Nickle’ rang my door bell. I slept next to him and somewhat calmed down.

“‘Cause you give me something that makes me scared, alright. This could be nothing but I’m willing to give it a try. Please give me something ’cause someday I might know my heart.”

Leave a comment

23.09.2011

Not Drunk Enough

“So I’m gonna get myself another drink whenever I start to think about you ’cause I do what I really don’t want to.”

Tuesday morning I didn’t really give much thought to my post ‘SF boy’ feelings that I might have lingering in my head, I was too excited about ‘Dandayamana Janushirasana’ coming to the city for the night to care about anything else. I did, however, text him about potentially going to Le Bain that night because I thought he would enjoy it. Guess what?! He never got back to me. I carried on with my day doing a bunch of nothing for the most part, I was feeling restless, anxious, and annoyed. I somewhat needed to go to work earlyish but I didn’t end up leaving my place till the evening for some event we had scheduled.

As soon as I arrived to work, I partook in the free vodka drinks that were being offered by the event organizer. I didn’t really do much other than waste time online and make plans for dinner with ‘Jose Maria’ for a besties dinner since we haven’t spent much time together. I’d also been talking to ‘Dandayamana Janushirasana’ who was going to her own work dinner, and then meeting up for drinks. I texted ‘Nickle’ about his plans for the night because I wanted him to meet her, and he agreed to meet us after he got off work. Apparently, he had a big project to turn in the next morning and he’d have to be there for a while. I finally coerced ‘Jose Maria’ to trying a Japanese restaurant we’d never been to, Robataya, in the East Village and I left work to walk over.

Dinner was delicious. So delicious that we managed to rack up a very hefty check, drink 4 bottles of sake, and eat enough fish, sea food, veggies, and meat to almost have the staff cut us off (or at least give us a strange look). We finished before I had heard from ‘Nickle’ or ‘Dandayamana Janushirasana”, so we stood outside the place smoking cigarettes and waiting. After 5 minutes she called me half drunk to see where she should meet us. I told her to stay in place and we’d come to her. Girl isn’t the best when she’s intoxicated. ‘Nickle’ mentioned he was about to get out and was about to walk over to wherever we were going. I told him to meet us a Bowery Hotel for a drink and we’d go from there.

We picked up ‘Dandayamana Janushirana’ and walked over to Bowery and 3rd. We ordered a drink, kissed, hugged, gossiped, and waited for my suitor to arrive. As soon as he did, I introduced them, got him a drink, and then my two friends went outside to smoke “a cigarette”, which I took as code for “let’s talk about this man without them around”. I’m sure it wasn’t in a bad way, I’m still interested in knowing what they said, and I’m glad they did so to each other because I like things to be as unbiased as possible. They came back and we left to go to 10 Degrees. We had a few more rounds, ‘Dandayamana Janushirasana’ should’ve probably stopped, ‘Nickle’ should’ve probably drank more to catch up. Me and ‘Jose Maria’ were fine.

The bar hopping continued across the street at a place that’s name I always forget. We had some pickleback shots, and a couple more drinks, and we proceeded to “church” where me and ‘Dandayamana Janushirasana’ gave a stellar drunken pole dancing performance to an almost empty bar before she almost passed out on the bench which was our cue to leave. We put her in a cab, one of the pious patrons invited ‘Jose Maria’ to karaoke which he accepted, and me and ‘Nickle’ headed to bed. Apparently, I was significantly more inebriated that I am willing to admit because I passed out on the cab, and then passed out again somewhere in my living room, so ‘Nickle’ carried me to bed. What a gent.

Wednesday morning I made it a point to get to work early. I failed. I interviewed a very creepy intern mid day who seemed very smart but a little off. The cherry on top came when she left, walked up the stairs, and I noticed her legs were covered in scratches and bruises. I gossiped with ‘The Cock of the North’ about her for a second, and then ran some personal and work errands. I ended up making plans with ‘Nickle’ and our friend ‘Viquers’ to meet later that night for a drink at Metro.

I got home at around 7:30, quickly walked ‘Toto’, freshened up and headed to the bar. The whole day ‘Latin T’ was texting me to see if I wanted to hang out, I mentioned my plans and he said he’d come meet me. Boy was I not ready for what was about to happen. Apparently, ‘Fixie’ and him went on a very brief Grindr date a few months ago where ‘Latin T’ managed to get himself kicked out of the bar 20 minutes into it. When he arrived, he was a bit drunk (as usual), and I sensed something slightly off about the night. I introduced them all and ‘Latin T’ was a bit apprehensive. I tried to buffer the situation but wasn’t very successful. I hadn’t eaten so I made plans with my two friends to get some noodles, ‘Latin T’ didn’t want to join. Instead, he went home and said he’d meet later to come with me back to the city to meet ‘Jose Maria’ who was having drinks with ‘Tiny Narcissus’ who had just gotten back from Greece.

I apologized to my friends for ‘Latin T’s’ behavior, but I should’ve apologized even further. As soon as he met us again, he made some very rude comments to ‘Fixie’ saying every time he saw him he was making out with someone different. I was shocked by his boldness so I asked what his point was and mentioned I too have kissed half of Williamsburg. He acted defensive. ‘Fixie’ handled the situation magnificently, as he normally does. ‘Latin T’ was being pushy about leaving and continued being rude to my friends. I was about to leave him, when he hailed a cab and we left for the city.

We arrived at 10 Degrees where ‘Jose Maria’ and co. were and waited for ‘Latin T’s’ friend to come meet. Surprisingly enough, he wasn’t being an asshole to my other friends. I mentioned to ‘Tiny Narcissus’ that I might be going to Greece with ‘Fixie’ in February. ‘Latin T’ asked me if we were dating. I was getting more and more annoyed. I just said it was non of his business, but no, he’s just a really good friend. ‘Latin T’s’ friend showed up which diverted his attention from me and my friends. For some reason I don’t quite understand well, ‘Latin T’ started crying within 5 minutes of her being there. Apparently she was at a work party where a guy he randomly hooks up with was. I pried a bit more and found out that said guy cheats on his boyfriend with ‘Latin T’. The situation just kept getting messier and trickier by the minute. I was severely confused. I have no idea why he’d have such an issue with ‘Fixie’ and his making out habits or mine, when he’s obviously not the most saintly gay man in New York.

I decided to switch into damage control mode and suggested we go to “church” so I could take him away from my other friends and maybe leave him there. He agreed. As we were walking over I could tell he was more drunk than I’ve ever seen him before, which worried me because I didn’t really want to be associated with him at the bar for fear he’d start something and I’d become guilty by association. As soon as we got to “church” I casually left him to his friend and chatted with the regulars. Two drinks later they wanted food and left me.

I was ready to go home and maybe see ‘Nickle’. I texted ‘Jose Maria’ to come meet me and I started walking his way when I ran into ‘Latin T’ and his friend again. They asked me to have a drink with them at this restaurant they were eating. I obliged and texted ‘Jose Maria’ to meet me there so we could go. Ten minutes later he came and I took a cab as far away from him as I could. He drunkenly texted me asking, and I quote, “where the f r u”. I didn’t reply. I pride myself in being nice and giving people second, third, and fourth chances, but with this one I’m done. He has severe issues and I don’t even think Mother Theresa has the heart to deal with this level of charity of work.

We met a very drunken ‘Nickle’ at The Abbey. Again, not surprised. We didn’t stay long, after we left ‘Jose Maria’ was going to spend the night so we walked back to my place. I started getting an incredibly strong anxiety attack to the point where ‘Jose Maria’ couldn’t calm me down. I wanted to text ‘Nickle’ and tell him I couldn’t deal with him. ‘Jose Maria’ wouldn’t let me. Regardless, I did text him saying I needed to talk to him. Within ten minutes he came over. I calmed down a bit and, instead of talking, he ate my ass, I jacked off, and don’t remember passing out or cumming. Next thing I know he was on the floor sleeping with his head on my boot, and I was on the couch. I pulled out the futon and dragged him to it. He woke up somewhat early and went to work. I woke up a bit later and realized I had dry semen all over my chest and abdomen. Apparently, I did cum. ‘SF boy’ texted me to meet him for lunch before he headed back home but I couldn’t. I took a shower and hurried to work because I really needed to get there soon. I had to interview an intern at noon.

I was a minute late and the intern was waiting. I didn’t have time to catch my breath but the interview went well. She’s a lovely black girl from Brooklyn with no experience in the field, but who seemed sassy and smart enough for us to mold her into a great addition. We hired her on the spot. The day was slow.

I had texted ‘Nickle’ a few times during the day and we had made plans to meet for a long overdue sober dinner where neither of us would drink. He came by my place at 9 pm. Sadly, I tasted whiskey and beer upon our first kiss. He confessed he had a couple drinks prior to coming. I was a bit disappointed and it kind of raised a flag because I’m starting to think that, much like myself, the man might have a slight problem, and as hypocritical as that sounds, I might not want that right now. Still… it is not the right time nor is it my place to bring it up… yet. He took me to Tabare, a restaurant on Driggs and South 1st. He’d never been but I had. Our unsuccessful sober date continued with a bottle of malbec. I decided to give up and just give in to my soothing, anti-anxiety, self prescribed medicine. I mentioned to ‘Nickle’ that it is in fact, not him, but I who has the issues. I can’t control my anxiety too well and all I asked for was that if he wanted to continue getting to know me, we take it slow and be completely honest with each other, and not to freak out when I do. It sat well with him. The man is winning me over little by little.

Half way through dinner ‘Fixie’ texted me to come meet him and his friend at The Abbey for a drink. Again, sober date = total fail. We finished our food and headed over for “just one drink”. Unrealistically, it was not “just one drink” but we did manage to stop after 2 or 3. The Abbey was the usual good times. Lots of familiar faces and cheap booze. We left at around 1 in the morning and walked home to go to bed. This morning, he woke me up with his lips around my lower head, and we jacked off together. He left at around 8:20 and I went back to sleep for a couple of hours. I woke up and took a couple of the homeopathic anxiety pills he had given me the night before. I think they worked. But if they don’t, I always have my whiskey and wine.

“And when I get there, to a place where I see you in a kitchen, I stop wishing but that thing and I don’t need you. I don’t really wanna see you and I don’t want you to see me. You would think that I was crazy,
you might think that I wanna be close to you but I’d rather wanna drink some Whisky and maybe have a little sip ‘o wine ’cause right now it`s the only thing that makes me forget you are mine.”

Leave a comment

18.09.2011

Hang With Me

“And if you do me right, I’m gonna do right by you. And if you keep it tight, I’m gonna confide in you. I know what’s on your mind there will be time for that too if you hang with me hang with me.”

I woke up Monday morning next to a very naked ‘Nickle’. ‘Fixie’ was sleeping in the living room but he left around 11 am to go to work. We ventured from the bedroom to the living room in our birthday suits and hung out smoking cigarettes and figuring out the plans for the day. I needed to stay at home and clean/write/hang out with ‘Toto’ but I also wanted to go to the movies. ‘Nickle’ had plans of meeting his best friend for one last meal before he left, but wanted to hang out with me too so we decided to go see Contagion first, and then meet up with his friend for brunch. The movie was good but almost too real. It felt more like watching CNN than an actual feature film which I suppose is nice, but not for 2 hours.

We left the theatre and headed to the west village where we picked up his friend and a slice of greasy pizza. Then we walked to Washington Square where we sat on the lawn and enjoyed the spectacle that were the south east corner natives: plenty of bums, one who got arrested for barking at people, another one who decided to jump in the fountain in his boxers, and one who delighted the park with tunes coming out of a radio recorded tape and a boom box. I was mildly tired so I rested on ‘Nickle’s’ lap for most of the evening. I was texting a friend of mine, ‘Arrogant A’, who was in town with her new beau, and making plans to meet later for dinner and/or drinks. ‘Jose Maria’ stopped by after a few hours because he wanted to meet ‘Nickle’. He kept giving me his snarky grin the whole time. I casually smiled back.

At around 6 pm we decided to go grab some dinner. I wasn’t meeting ‘Arrogant A’ till 9 pm so we stayed in the West/East Village and asked for a table at Ippudo. We left to a bar around the corner to meet some of ‘Nickle’s’ friends as we waited for our table to be ready. A beer later we rushed back to devour some of the most amazing noodles I’ve ever had. Sadly, ‘Nickle’ and ‘Jose Maria’s’ taste buds were not working that night because they didn’t seem to agree with me.

We hurried back to my place to wait for my visiting friends. They were a bit late but not too bad. ‘Arrogant A’s’ new man was stunning, and a really nice guy at first impression. As expected, she kept making infantile comments about how this guy is hotter than her ex, and other similar statements so she could feel validated. We enjoyed a couple glasses of wine at my places before heading out to The Abbey where we dropped off ‘Nickle’ but not before having a drink with him and his friends. Then I took my guests to Hotel Delmano for another round, and last but not least we went to Union Pool. She kept having verbal diarrhea and I was getting tired of finding subtle ways to disagree without making her feel stupid because to be honest, it doesn’t matter. She wouldn’t be able to understand that she sounds so immature bad mouthing others. I suggested to ‘Jose Maria’ we fake tiredness (although it wasn’t that hard as I was actually really tired) and pretend to leave so they would go home and I could go with him to Metro for some alone friends time which hadn’t happened for a while as of that moment. Luckily, they asked to leave because they too were a bit tired. I was glad to oblige. My tour of Billyburg was done for them.

Me and ‘Jose Maria’ did as planed. A drink at Metropolitan followed by another drink at The Abbey and then we went home.

Tuesday I went to a much needed session of Bikram. I got back home, took a nap, and ran some of the many errands I had to run. I am still not caught up after my California trip. I’d made plans with some friends to go to trivia night in the Upper East Side. I invited quite a few people, but in the end it was me, ‘Jose Maria’, ‘Arrogant A’ and her man, and three other friends of friends. The night was going great until we came in fourth place. Being the competitive beasts we all are, we were not satisfied… but like the host of the night said: “it’s only trivia people”. We left the restaurant defeated but with plans for a rematch the following week.

I took ‘Jose Maria’, ‘Arrogant A’, and her boyfriend to the ACE for some pre-Le Bain cocktails. Again, she continued being herself which I don’t understand. I feel like when I met her, 8 years ago, I could somewhat relate as I had just moved out, had just come to terms with my sexuality, and was way more green. Unlike her, I’ve grown a lot as a person and I really don’t think I would be friends with her if I was to meet her today. It seems like she’s stuck in the past and it’s sad because although she’s nothing but nice to me, she isn’t to others, and that’s not something that I look for or appreciate in friends. Regardless, I decided to give her a treat and take her to The Standard where, being who she is, she would feel exalted at the fact that she was going to what she’d consider a very hip, exclusive club, and she would get to bypass the line (via me of course). As soon as we crossed the door she made her customary comment: “Did you see that fat guy begging to get in? how pathetic.”

Needless to say, she loved it. We hung out on the rooftop for an hour enjoying some cocktails in the pleasant windy fall breeze that’s been grazing New York lately. After two drinks and with a bladder full of alcohol, we all went to the bathroom and I left them to go to the Boom Boom Room for a brief minute. Like I’ve said before, I’m getting too old for the crowd at Le Bain, and I certainly don’t mind paying the extra two dollars per drink for some nicer, quieter, more civilized company.

After finishing my drink I left the Boom Boom Room to go meet the others. Not to sound like an asshole, but I will get ‘Arrogant A’ into Le Bain but not into Boom Boom. She should stay with her kind. Briefly after I returned she mentioned she was ready to leave, and so was I, I had plans to meet ‘Nickle’ for a night cap. ‘Jose Maria’ stayed behind to play his games.

We shared a cab back to Brooklyn. I got off somewhat close to my place, handed them 6 dollars and left them on their way. I arrived at The Abbey to a charmingly drunk (as usual) ‘Nickle’. I was feeling a bit honest that night so I decided to come clean about DJ. He took it surprisingly well. I mentioned I wasn’t fucking around but I also wasn’t looking to rush into a relationship which he found commendable of me. He offered to take this whole thing as slowly as I needed it to go which I found commendable of him. All my raw honesty inspired him to come clean as well. His secret? Something I can’t divulge but let’s just say that, although I’m not surprised because I kind of knew, it complicates things. It is a health issue and I am a hypochondriac. No, it’s not HIV.

That night we decided to sleep in our respective beds. According to both of us, it wasn’t because of the truths we had just revealed, but because of logistics. He worked early and I needed to catch up on some sleep. I think a very small part of us was somewhat influenced by the revelations… Not necessarily because they were life changing, but because they sobered us up a bit.

Wednesday: work. The new intern was in for his second day. We spent most of the time setting up for an event we had on Thursday but also trekking around the city doing pick ups and deliveries. I got off earlier at around 6 pm and took one of the most retarded cab rides from the Upper East Side to Chelsea to meet ‘The Lady of Derbishire’ for yet another art opening at Gagosian. This time: Richard Serra.

‘Nickle’ had been wanting to see me which kind of went against the whole idea of taking things slowly. I told him I had plans because, although I do enjoy his company, I wanted to have my usual Wednesday and end up at “church” for one last one on one “confession” with DJ before he left for Greece for two weeks.

Coincidentally, after the opening I went to Momofuku for my friend’s birthday and ‘Nickle’ was at a bar around the corner. I was tempted to invite him but opted not to because that went against my original plan and I like sticking to my guns.

After a disappointing dinner, not because of the company but because of the food, me, ‘Jose Maria’, and birthday girl ‘Sassy G’ went for birthday drinks at 10 Degrees where she’d told the rest of her friends to meet for the celebrations. I wasn’t in the best of moods as I’ve been lately due to all these boys I’m juggling. I tried and mingled but eventually just retracted to a lonely stool by the counter away from the party where I reverted to a comfortable spot: talking to strangers.

I counted the minutes till a time I deemed appropriate to excuse myself and go to “church” and after finishing my last drink there I did as planned. I’d paid my dues.

There was something in the air that night because “church” didn’t feel as holy… maybe I was too drunk. Part of the birthday crew joined shortly. I can’t remember specifics but I’m quite sure the night was similar to every other Wednesday night.

I left with DJ at close time a few minutes after ‘Jose Maria’ had left alone (surprisingly). DJ was in the mood for some sexy time but I was too drunk to perform and managed to pass out before I embarrassed myself.

The next morning I rushed home because I’d promised ‘Nickle’ I’d bike to work so we could bike back together. I texted DJ apologising for my antics to which he replied it was fine and he wouldn’t have had it any other way. Sometimes the man is a sweetheart.

Work was long and stressful. As I mentioned, we had an event that night. Out of all my guests only ‘John G’ and ‘Nickle’ showed up. I left with ‘Nickle’ at around 8:30 pm to go meet a friend and see Peter, Bjorn & John perform at the Music Hall in Williamsburg. Despite the weather we biked back over the devilish bridge and into my neighbourhood. The show was better than I expected but a bit too long. I wanted it to end so I could go celebrate my heritage with a burrito and a margarita and cheer to my country’s independence. Before midnight I got one of the two.

A few minutes after midnight the encore was done and I had ‘Nickle’ following my stubborn ass all over billyburg looking for a damn burrito. After a few unsuccessful attempts we ended up at LA Burrito for a subpar experience but enough to temporarily tame my pregnant cravings. We biked back to my place and ‘Nickle’ spent the night (again!).

I was ready (again!) for a weekend without boys.

“Just don’t fall recklessly, headlessly in love with me ’cause it’s gonna be all heartbreak, wistfully painful and insanity. If we agree, oh, you can hang with me.”

Leave a comment

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.”

Leave a comment

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”.

Leave a comment

21.08.2011

Money changes everything.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Leave a comment

20.08.2011

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Leave a comment

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!

Leave a comment

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.

Leave a comment

the.applied.process.

Category: Sex

08.10.2011

Home

03.10.2011

You Give Me Something

23.09.2011

Not Drunk Enough

18.09.2011

Hang With Me

10.09.2011

Right as Rain

30.08.2011

Seventeen

21.08.2011

Money changes everything.

20.08.2011

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

19.08.2011

Family, Fuck Buddies, and Fuckin’ Beyonce!

10.08.2011

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