the.applied.process.

21.08.2011

Money changes everything.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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20.08.2011

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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20.08.2011

Oh What a Night!

As expected, DJ biked over to my work about 15 minutes before I closed shop to drop off the shorts I’d lent him on Thursday. I was quite sure that he was coming towards closing time so we could hang out after although he hadn’t mentioned that. Naturally, my intuition was right again. He asked me if I’d eaten and, although I sort of had a late lunch, I said I’d go with him to get food. We walked to La Esquina for some chicken soup, tacos, rice pudding, and jamaica water. Sometime towards the end of our meal New York decided to throw us a thunderstorm. It was kind of cute to be stuck inside the restaurant with him waiting for the rain to dissipate, or at least slow down. After about 20 minutes it was somewhat manageable so we kissed briefly (what is up with me and PDA’s!?), he biked back to his place, and I took the train home. I was going to see him later that night while he DJ’d at Metro.

I got home and felt sick from overeating. I hung out with my pup for a bit, went on Facebook, wasted time, and watched Mad Men (I just realized it’s now on netflix instant watch!). I texted a few friends to come to the bar with me but they either didn’t reply or had prior engagements. One of the frenchies said he’d meet me at some point. I walked over to Metro at around 11:30 pm.

As I’ve mentioned, I’ve been on a Beyonce binge for the past week. I’d asked him to play some bey bey for my insatiable ears. Coincidentally, as soon as I walked in Beysus was blasting on the speakers. I went to the DJ booth and gave him a peck. He gave me a drink token. Some of his coworkers from his Wednesday gig were there, the very handsome bar back, and the somewhat bitchy (or so was my first impression, which later changed) good friend. I chatted with both for a bit and then shimmied myself through the crowd for a drink. I spotted ‘Fixie’. He was there with his new/old beau. I gave him a hug and said hi to both of them. It stung a bit, but no biggie, I had my own dick waiting for me behind the turntables. I told him about the recent events regarding DJ to which he replied: “you’re dating, I don’t care what you call it, you’re dating”. I giggled and proceeded to order my whiskey ginger.

For some bizarre reason, Metro was more than usually chock full of familiar faces. I don’t even know where to begin but, grindr gays, friendly gays, traveling gays, neighborhood gays, work gays, you name it, they were all there.

I walked back to the “VIP” area, and hung out with the Wednesday boys. They were hating on my neighbors, but to be honest, I get it. I joined in. We were trying to figure out why I didn’t get the memo that Friday was “wear your polka dot shirt to Metro” night. And just as we were commenting on the fashion choices of my fellow billyburgians a black dude wearing a camp shirt and a bow tie walks up to our spot. He looked vaguely familiar. I left with the Wednesday boys to go outside for a cigarette. More familiar faces.

As I was finishing my smoke, frenchie called me from outside the subway stop. I walked over to meet him and buy more cigarettes. I also bought peach o’s for DJ (it’s his guilty pleasure). I texted DJ from outside the bar asking if black dude with bow tie was same black dude that was at Gansevoort a couple of weeks ago when he was djing there. He replied: “ugh, yes!”.

We walked back to the bar and I gave DJ his petite cadeau. He looked at me with his ever so charming sad puppy eyes. I pecked him again. I entertained frenchie for a bit till he left after two drinks and four cigarettes. I was a bit conflicted about how I felt about frenchie, but he’s a really nice guy and I like him a lot as a friend.

The Wednesday boys had left, so it was just me and black dude. I alternated between hanging out with DJ, getting drinks, and smoking a cigarette. I kept a constant one drink/one ciggy pace for most of the night. I was outside to smoke trying to talk to some cute boy I’d seen on Grindr when some creeper tried to creep up on me. He kept complimenting me, and at some point asked me for my number so he could text me later that night to see what I was doing. Sorry boy, I don’t do shorties with shiny lips (I think he was wearing lip gloss) who look like they “party”.

I went back inside. Black dude was busy vogueing. Some dudes were dancing by the dj booth. One of them asked black dude to dance, to which he said: “I don’t dance”. I switched to bitch mode and said: “I’ll dance with you, and weren’t you (pointing at black dude) just dancing too?”. I wished ‘Jose Maria’ was there because he would’ve thoroughly enjoyed the spectacle. Black dude looked confused. It’s a bit ridiculous how clingy he is. Knowing DJ, he’d have better luck acting nonchalant and talking to other boys than just hovering him like a vulture hovers a brand new carcass. DJ played me some Taio Cruz.

Handsome Wednesday came back. I hung out with him for the rest of the night. He is really nice. I discovered that, just like me, he likes dirty looking boys. I was a bit drunk by this point and a bit confused. I wanted to hit on Handsome Wednesday, but I also felt the need to mark my territory. I am not sure why I felt this way, I certainly had no reason to worry. I was completely sure black dude was going home by himself. Me and Handsome Wednesday sent DJ a cute pic of us making a sad face because he wouldn’t play some Britney. One thing led to another and I stayed longer than I’d expected. The last song was playing, which wasn’t Britney!, so Handsome Wednesday went home. Black dude realized his defeat and said goodbye to DJ. I stayed with him for a bit till we both walked out ensemble.

We discussed spending the night together but we both had things to do early in the morning. He didn’t want to come over so he asked me if I wanted to go to his. I said I would but I needed to stop by my place for some clothes first. He apologized for black dude, saying he was sorry he wasn’t all over me but he didn’t want to be rude. I completely understood. It’s a funny thing how, in a way, I feel a certain level of security about what we have. I like it. We realized that sleeping together (and considering how tired and tipsy we were, we would’ve done just that: sleep) was a drunken and more complicated task than it needed to be so we kissed, he cabbed it home, and I walked to my apartment. He instantly texted me saying he had a good time. I replied the same. Five minutes later, I sent him a message on Grindr saying: “Come over!!!!!!”. I was joking.

I went to bed at around 5 which I regretted this morning. He had asked me if I wanted to hang out tonight but I told him I had a date. We’ll see what happens after.

The day has been slow. I talked to ‘Mexican T’ today. He’s still crazy. What is it about these boys? Wish I knew… Gay men are so fickle.

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19.08.2011

Family, Fuck Buddies, and Fuckin’ Beyonce!

Monday night my sister had a layover in Newark and missed her connecting flight to Spain. For some bizarre illogical reason my parents asked me to book her a room at a nearby hotel room rather than her taking a cab over to Brooklyn and sleeping at my place. She wasn’t leaving till the next day at 9 pm, but apparently, common sense doesn’t run in this family. I thought it did. I downed a few buck-a-piece PBRs and forgot about the situation.

The next morning, I get a call from her saying she’s coming to New York. I tell her to take a cab. Five minutes later she calls me back saying she’s taking the train because they told her a cab would be $120. Again, I know she’s never been to New York, but she’s well traveled, how the hell does that make sense?! A cab to and from Newark is never more than four Jacksons ($20 dollar bills for my international readers, although I’m quite certain that most Americans don’t know that either). Regardless, I headed to Penn Station to wait for her. I called her as soon as I arrived. She hadn’t even left Jersey! I wanted to shoot myself because, if you know me, you know how impatient I am especially when it’s about common sense situations. She finally arrived, and we started the day.

** side note: me and my sister don’t have a close relationship at all. On the contrary, we never talk, and it wasn’t really till she turned 18 and I was 23 that we begun to barely hang out. Before, we just didn’t. Furthermore, I would probably drown in roll over minutes if her number was the only one I could dial. I know I’m like that with my parents, but not as severe. It is not that I don’t love her, it is just how we grew up. Regardless, just like my friends, the moment I see her it’s like I saw her the day before. **

My 5-hour-first-time-visitor-quick-tour-of-New-York started with a walk through the sea of tourists that is Times Square. I’m not sure if she was afraid of what I would say or if she just didn’t care, but she did not ask to stop for a photo op (thank GOD!). We just swam through the crowd and boarded the 50th street 1 train uptown to Columbus Circle. I pointed out the city’s top restaurant (according to the S. Pellegrino’s World 50 Best Restaurants) Per Se, she’s a chef so she likes these things. We strolled through the park till we arrived at 5th ave. I showed her the now under remodel Apple store. She wanted to buy some shoes so, naturally, I took her to Bergdorf’s. No luck. Then we walked to Rockefeller Center, went to the top floor, and took pictures of the view which, to me, is the best as far as rooftops in New York go.

We carried on with our shoe hunt, which lead us to Saks. She found a pair of Choo Shoes she liked but they weren’t available in her size. We walked to the Choo shop, but it was closed. Finally, we headed towards the 6 train and stopped at Bloomingdale’s where she purchased some cute Prada flats. We got on the train and off at Grand Central Station. She took a few pictures and ended up at the Bar à Huîtres indulging in some oysters, mussels, clams, and crustaceans. We had a nice chat about my dad’s crazy and annoying family.

Her time was running out. I took her to my apartment really fast so she could see my dog and some of Brooklyn. We didn’t stay long. We headed back to the city and ate a lite early dinner at DBGB because, as I stated, she’s a fan of certain chefs, in this case Daniel Boulud. The food was nice. I called her a car and off she went on a $58 ride back to Newark. I haven’t talked to her since.

I went back to Brooklyn and ended up wasting time till I met ‘Fixie’ for some Criff Dogs and drinks. We biked to a couple of bars ending up at Metropolitan. A couple acquaintances of him were there. We chatted with a guy I find attractive but happens to be a male hustler (probably subconsciously why I like him). He was there with two of his friends from Wisconsin. To say they were all odd is an understatement. We decided to leave after 2.5 drinks and some awkward conversation. I was going to ask him to come over, but he had plans so we said goodbye. I went home alone and slightly sad I didn’t get to sleep next to him. I still like him a lot.

Wednesday I worked. It was a very very long day. I received a message in the morning from a friend of a friend back in LA who happens to live in New York. I had messaged her months ago before I moved here because my friend had said we’d get along. After almost a year she finally responded. She was having her birthday party at some karaoke bar in Korea Town. I told her I’d stop by for a bit, but I had to go to my “Wednesday Religious Service” at 11ish. After work, I went home, took a half hour nap and called ‘The Lady of Derbyshire’ to come with to watch drunk Asians sing White songs. The girl who invited me was really nice. Another girl I knew from back home was there. I don’t know why that surprised me. The Koreans, just like the gays, all seem to know each other.

The crowd was very young and kind of annoying in a “I’m no longer in my early twenties, but they are” kind of way. Birthday girl was complaining about turning 24. We left after two beers and four songs. I walked ‘The Lady of Derbyshire’ back towards her place and my train. I was asked for a cigarette by this crazy black woman (I am not trying to be offensive here, she really was black. That was a joke BTW). I gave her one, then she asked me for a lighter. I didn’t want to give her one because she looked crazy and a bit dirty so I said I didn’t have one. She got mad and ripped the cigarette to pieces in front of my eyes. I was shocked and I wanted to scream: “Bitch you know how much cigarettes cost in New York?!” but I didn’t because she was scary. I got on the train and headed to the East Village. I was on a mission.

The train was running express from Union Square to Brooklyn Bridge so I got off and walked to the bar. I didn’t have to work the next day. I was intending on spending some quality sexy time with DJ. The bar was nice. I got free drinks and socialized with the regulars. Sometimes you want to go where everybody knows your name. DJ was there with two Spanish friends who were a couple in an open relationship (shocker!) and spoke very minimal English. Per his request, I entertained them. I could tell one of them was into him. I kissed DJ and went outside with the Spaniards to smoke un cigarro. They decided to leave so they went inside to say their goodbyes. The younger of the two made out with DJ in front of me and his beau. Again, I did not care. I hung out with DJ some more and kissed him again. I like that he’s always telling everyone how cute I am. He said he liked that I had manners a.k.a. I was ok with him kissing others. I told him it was fine. I think I kissed someone too that night. We made out in the bathroom. His coworkers made fun of us. His friend was staying over so I suggested we go back to my place. He agreed. We left close to 4am and cabbed it to Brooklyn.

He’d never been to my place. We kissed and fooled around a bit but nobody came. My dog was acting very crazy and I was a bit paranoid that DJ was gonna be annoyed. As I told him, he is a JAP. He proudly admitted he was. We woke up around 8. His initial reaction: taking a couple of seconds to realize where you are, was hilarious and familiar. I’ve been there. We slept a bit more and woke up again at 11. I offered to get him a smoothie when I walked my dog. He suggested we get brunch (another first for us). I lent him some shorts to spare him from the walk of shame as he was wearing some tight zebra print biker shorts. We walked to DuMont for some eggs in his case, and gazpacho and a salad in mine. He was acting very cute. He said he never stays over at other people’s places nor does he seem them in the daylight. I am not sure what to make of that. I liked it, but at the same time it was a bit outside my comfort zone with him. I think he likes me likes me. We talked about boys in a very unconventional way. I think most guys would not be comfortable conversing about other sex partners and dates with the guy they just slept with. It doesn’t bother me.

He went home right after. He said he was djing near my apartment on Friday so I told him I’d stop by and pick up my shorts. He said he could maybe stop by my work on Friday and drop em off (another first!). We kissed goodbye. I’m starting to like this whole making out right outside the train station situation.

I went home and purchased Beyonce tickets. I wrote on the blog, cleaned up a bit, ran some errands and took a nap.

At around 7pm I headed to the Meatpacking to meet up with my friend friend who was to be my “date” for the show. We ate at The Dinner and cabbed it to Roseland Ballroom for, as I stated when I checked in, “the OTHER black party”. I don’t think anyone got my joke on Facebook. The show was amazing. I love Beyonce and, although I wished she’d performed more songs off “I Am Sasha Fierce”, I was quite pleased. “End of Time” and ” Countdown” sufficed.

Regretfully, she didn’t do an encore. We left the show and he cabbed it home. I cabbed it to the Lower East Side to meet up with the Frenchies and ‘John G’, who was pissed because they wouldn’t let him in to The Box. If you ask me, who cares! I hate that place. The Frenchies stayed at The Box and I walked with ‘John G’ to 2nd and 2nd. We had a couple of drinks at The Cock. The bartender, also a bartender at Eastern Bloc, gave me a free drink. We left promptly.

I drunkenly texted DJ to see if he was up. He didn’t replied so I took a taxi home.

I woke up this morning and got ready for work. It’s been a slow day. I’ve been on Facebook and writing on here for the past 5 hours. DJ hasn’t come. For some bizarre reason I’m really enjoying my life right now. The anxiety is still there, but I’ve had a different take on the situation. I think I have a lot to be grateful for. I think I’m gonna go to San Francisco for labor day. I think I’m gonna see DJ again tonight. I’ve also been giggling a lot. That’s that.

EDIT: DJ just texted he’s coming over in 20 minutes. HA!

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19.08.2011

Grind Date No. 12: Gilty

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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18.08.2011

Grind Date No. 11: Rick.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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16.08.2011

Untitled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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15.08.2011

Let the good times roll!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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10.08.2011

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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07.08.2011

A new exercise in quick entries: part deux.

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

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

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

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

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