One Gay at a Time

My “Birthday Weekend” status in Grindr was producing an exorbitant amount of hits. Men were throwing themselves at me left and right for no other reason than the fact that I provided them material for an opening line. Almost every message was “want a birthday blowjob?” or “how bout some birthday sex?”

After my encounter with the 40 y.o., I couldn’t tell if I was excited or scared. It awakened something deep inside me. I craved the promiscuity of these random encounters. I wanted more. On the flip-side, they scared the hell out of me. I had no idea who I was meeting or what they could do to me.

The Saturday following my birthday, I went back to my favorite bar with my friends. I was on the hunt. It was my birthday, I was single, and I was horny. Grindr was my best friend all night. I didn’t stop checking it.

One guy in particular was very persistent with his messages. We exchanged a few messages back-n-forth throughout the night. He wanted to meet somewhere. When I told him I was going home for the night, he was insistent upon coming over. We could not meet at his place because his roommates didn’t know he was gay, and he was very worried whether or not my roommates were home. I assuaged his fears, explaining they were both already sleeping in bed.

Since it began to rain, he insisted I meet him half way and walk back to my apt together. This was beginning to become more work than it was worth. Finally, I convinced him to come to my door and text when he arrived. Yes, I gave him my phone number. I’m slowly learning I need to be much more contentious about giving that out.

I had seen his picture on Grindr, but when I walked down to the front door of my apartment building, I was shocked at what I saw. This is going to sound very shallow, but I’m just being honest. He was fat. And, I don’t mean husky or chubby. I can deal with that. He was F-A-T fat. I’m sorry if this offends people, but it’s just not my type. I take very good care of my body, and I am attracted to men who do the same. I was immediately turned off, but I’m not the kind of guy who just slams the door on someone who walked through the rain to come “pleasure” me.

When I opened the door, he quickly but quietly came rushing in. He looked panicked, like his parents just walked in on him having sex. When he explained why he was in a rush, I couldn’t help but notice how flamboyant he was. There was no way in hell his roommates didn’t know he was gay. It was written all over his body language. We walked up the stairs to my apartment, quietly opened the door and crept in silently. Silently until he allowed the metal door to slam behind him. Now, he looked like he was ready to sprint back down the stairs. After the 40 y.o., this felt like old hat. I wasn’t nervous at all.

We walked back to my bedroom and closed the door. I have never seen anyone strip down so fast in my life. I began to do the same, at which point he decided to help me along. He was sprinting, when sex is meant to be a long distance run at the least.

We started with the heavy petting. He felt like ziplocs full of pudding. On top of that, he was all over. He never stayed in one place for more than a second. I was so confused. I felt like I was going through a car wash. After some making out, heavy petting, oral pleasure and grinding, he turned onto his back and began masturbating. In my confusion and lack of a better idea, I did the same. He finished rather quickly, and I got him a towel. He started to rubbing me all over again. If anything it was a major distraction, not help. He asked if I was going to finish. At this point, I was so fed up with him I replied, “No. It’s going to take me longer.”

Much to my dismay, but also my pleasure, he responded, “Ok, well I’m gonna go. I have to get back before my roommates notice I am gone.”

As quickly as he removed the, he put his clothes back on, put on his shoes and quickly shuffled down the hall and out the door.

To date, this was the worst “hook up” I have ever participated in. To top it off, he continued to text me over the next few weeks. And if the whole situation wasn’t awkward enough, I found myself standing next to him and his friend on the PATH train one day. I kept my head buried in my newspaper and darted out the door the second they opened. To this day, I still get offended every time he texts, but I have yet to respond to a single one.