One Gay at a Time

I always get particularly excited when a new guy pops up on Grindr who happens to live in Hoboken. I have pretty much blocked all the gay men in Hoboken, so when a new one pops up, I notice.

One in particular messaged me and was pretty cute. In his pictures, he looked like he had a good body and seemed very nice and genuine. After we chatted a few times, we exchanged numbers and switched things over to texting.

He told me he was a trainer at NYSC, but he was on hiatus while he got a certification. In the meantime, he was working as a bartender on Fire Island. He was gone almost every Thursday through Monday. This made it very hard to find a time to meet up, but eventually we figured it out.

We decided to meet on a Tuesday evening at a Mexican restaurant in Hoboken, Charritos. I had only ever heard good things but had never been. He made a good choice. He spent the day out in the burbs of New Jersey at his friend’s pool, and he was late getting back because of rain and flooding. When he finally showed up in his ripped jeans, finely quaffed hair, tight T-shirt and leather bracelets, I knew this date was doomed from the start.

The night before I was warned about this guy. While talking to N, I learned they knew each other in passing. N had seen him working at the gym and told me he was quite effeminate. I became skeptical but open-minded at that point, but when I met this guy in person, the second he opened his mouth I was turned off. On top of that, I noticed how filled out he was. He was supposed to be a trainer. I would never go to a trainer who was that pudgy and couldn’t follow their own advice.

We sat and had a very nice dinner. We talked about coming out and our families’ reactions to the news. We chatted about work and what we do for fun. The conversation was nice, but there was no spark. He just kept looking at me with this big smile like he wanted to gobble me up. I got the feeling he was a bit lost in the world. He was openly gay, but I’m not sure if he knew how to navigate life with men. I shouldn’t talk, because I have no idea what I’m doing, but he seemed like his GPS was slightly off.

After dinner, he asked if I wanted to grab another drink somewhere. I obliged, but I should have ended the date then and there. I knew better. I clearly wasn’t interested in this guy and had an out to go home, but I felt bad for him. I felt like he needed a friend, so I stuck around. We went around the corner to Sushi Lounge and sat at the bar. We each ordered a round and continued our conversation.

Somehow the topic of the rainbow came up as a symbol for gay culture came up in conversation. I explained just how much I despised the rainbow. He was flabbergasted. He didn’t know how to react. I explained it was not something I embraced. I could understand why some people need a symbol to hold on to, but I was making every attempt to not let my homosexuality separate me from the rest of the world. I am a normal ordinary man who happens to like the company of other men. I don’t need a rainbow to broadcast who I am. On top of that, I find the rainbow aesthetically unpleasing. I could tell I really turned him off by all this, but he wasn’t going to argue.

Then the conversation turned to previous relationships. I told him about the two I had been in and the duration of each. He told me I had a longer relationship than any he’s ever had. When I asked him why, he asked the bartender for another drink. He was a broken gay man. I felt bad for him, but certainly no attraction towards him. I thought maybe I could be his friend.

After we split our tab, I walked him home. Much to my surprise, he invited me up. I have NO idea why I agreed, but I did. We sat on the couch with some wine while we watched one of the music channels. We got into a conversation about Lady Gaga. I told him I found her very inspirational and really got behind her message and what she stood for. He told me he was over her. We obviously were going to but heads, so I was about ready to leave.

At that moment, he took my wine glass, took off my shirt, and started kissing me. He was an awful kisser. All over the place. I did not want to be there making out with him. I did however feel he needed to be kissed. So, I suppose you could call it a pity kiss. After a short while, I told him I needed to go home. I had work the next day, and it was getting late. I said goodnight, and with that I was gone.

I made it as far as the bottom step of his apartment stoop when I realized I left my umbrella in his apartment. There was no way in hell I was coming back to this place to get it, nor did I really want to see him again after that night. So, I rang his apartment. He buzzed me in, and I went back up to get my umbrella. When I walked in the door, he pushed me back into a chair and mounted me. Apparently he wasn’t done. I immediately told him I needed to go. I only came back for the umbrella, not an encore. That’s when I really realized he only wanted me for my body. We didn’t have that great of conversation all night and disagreed a lot. We were obviously not compatible for a relationship, but maybe he was just horny. I was slightly offended and made my way home.

He immediately texted me: “Had a great night with you.” I didn’t respond immediately, but in the morning I texted: “I had a good time too.” After that, I was done with him. I was pleasant, but I didn’t give him hopes of a second date. He would not be a repeat offender. The next day he texted, “How was your day at work?” But, he would not get anything back from me. Once again, it was back to the dating pool…