Posts Tagged Break-up

Sick to My Stomach

Monday morning, I woke to the sound of my alarm clock. The night before, N entertained the idea of taking the day off or working from home, however, this morning, his tone changed. He rushed to get ready for work since he was late, as usual. While he got dressed, everything from the night before slowly bubbled up in my brain. My disposition changed as I realized the hell my relationship was in. He gave me a kiss goodbye, and I gave him a forced smile as he walked out the door. I could tell by the expression on his face he knew how I was feeling.

Besides feeling like someone ripped my heart from my chest, I was feeling even sicker than the day before. My stomach was turning. I had so much work to do that day, but I couldn’t fathom going into the office. All morning, I was back n forth to the bathroom. I also realized sitting at home all day by myself with just my thoughts for company would be THE WORST thing possible for me at the time. The distraction of work would be a good for me, but I just couldn’t do it. I didn’t know if I could make the walk to the PATH, let alone make it through the whole day, so I called in sick.

All morning, I curled up in a ball on the couch watching TV. I tried to eat a bowl of cereal, but after four bites, I felt nauseous. I really did a number on myself that weekend. I drank very heavily both Friday and Saturday well into the morning, as well as a few cocktails on Sunday, which was because I thought a little hair of the dog might help. NOPE!

After a while, I tried to fall asleep, but sadly all I could do was think about N. I started to tear up again, but refused to let myself cry. Finally, out of exhaustion, I fell asleep.

After some time, my roommate’s girlfriend came by. She was packing their things for their move to a new apartment. I needed someone to talk to, so I told her what happened. She gave me her take on the situation and offered advice. I didn’t fully agree with her on some things, but I knew she was right about most of it. It just wasn’t what I wanted to hear. I knew in my brain I needed to break up with him — the guy in which I had zero trust to be faithful to me. But, my heart was not in sync. It still wanted him — this great guy I met and integrated into my life so easily. I was torn. I knew if I just had hard proof, it would be the closure I needed to get over it and end things with him.

Nevertheless, I didn’t think our conversation was over. I didn’t have all the answers I needed, and if I was going to be treated like a second string booty call, this relationship was over. I asked him if he would be around that night since he couldn’t spend the day at home with me. He responded by telling me he completely forgot, until his roommate reminded him, he was going to her brother’s graduation party and would be spending the night. I would not see him for at least another 36 hours.

A big red flag went up in my head. Since I had no trust in him whatsoever, I began stalking him on Grindr. Was he meeting up with a man? Grindr would tell me how far away he was. I knew his job was 6 miles from my apartment. At one point that evening, he was 10 miles away, and then it jumped to 33 miles away. Of course, my brain racked over what the pit stop was. Did he stop at a Grindr friend’s apartment on the way to the party for a quickie? Who knew? This is was I was reduced to.

I was driving myself insane, so I took my frustrations out on someone who was bothering me for some time, Gatsbie69. The week before I met N on Grindr, I met what seemed to be the perfect guy for me also on Grindr. He was 28, and his name was Tim, or so he said. We talked for hours between Grindr and AIM. He emailed me numerous pictures of him and his hot body, but something never quite added up. Long story short, we discussed our lives and interests and matched up quite well. I was excited to meet him, except he always had an excuse why he couldn’t. Over two months, I did some research and came to find how much of a fake he was. I couldn’t figure out what he was getting out of this arrangement, and in my agitated state, I ripped into him that night on AIM. He denied the accusations, but with little fervor. When I finished telling him what an awful person he is, I made sure to make a full report to Grindr for impersonating someone else.

I needed to get out of my apartment. I was driving myself crazy. I texted my friends to see what everyone were up to. I didn’t care what it was. I just needed a distraction. K finally answered. I told her how much of a wreck I was. I explained my lack of appetite during the day (K knows how much I love to eat, so she knew how out of sorts I was), so she invited me over for dinner. I jumped at the invitation. I was at her apartment in five minutes. She made lobster ravioli, and I was able to stomach four of them. So if you’re keeping track, I had four spoonfuls of cereal and four raviolis. But, I couldn’t help it. The thought of food made me nauseous. At this point, I knew it was more than just a hangover. I was causing myself so much emotional distress; it was beginning to affect my digestive system.

I was stronger than this. I didn’t do this. This is not who I am. Why was I letting one boy’s folly tear me down? It was ridiculous! But, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t shake it.

After dinner, I laid on her couch watching TV with her. We didn’t talk, but it was just nice to be with someone and watching mindless TV. She doesn’t realize it, but she really helped me that day. I haven’t felt that depressed in a long time, and I really needed a friend to be there. Thanks K!

When N posted pictures of the party to Facebook, I knew he actually went to the party. When it started to get late, I walked home. I didn’t want to keep K up, and I knew it would probably do me good to get more sleep.

When I got back to my room, I hopped into bed. My California King never felt so empty as it did that night. I know I didn’t want N in my bed that night, but I also know I didn’t want to be alone either. The nightmarish thoughts that were my love life ran though my head until I was finally able to doze off to sleep.

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Pride Parade

The next morning, N woke up to me staring him in the face. I don’t know what I was looking at, but I was definitely looking for answers. When he opened his eyes, his expression said it all. It was as if he woke up from a bad dream, only to find it was reality. He kept blinking and closing his eyes and then looking back into mine. I’m sure he saw the pain that was there. I could tell he wanted to be anywhere else but there at that moment.

Neither of us said anything for a few moments until I broke the silence. “Can we talk about what happened last night?” He nodded in agreement and sat up in the bed. I kind of ambushed him before he even had a chance to wake up, but what could I do? It was all I could think about, and I wanted answers.

We talked about why he was so secretive about dinner with his friends. He denied being secretive and said he was completely upfront with me. When I pointed out a few discrepancies in the story, he brushed them off as details lost in confusion of planning for ten people. Then I addressed him kissing the guy. He flat out denied it still. He told me he didn’t know the guy and it was a peck on the cheek in passing. The body language between the two from what I saw would say otherwise, but I gave him the benefit of the doubt. I said, even if it was just a peck in passing, why were you talking to him in the first place? Why did you both have your phones out? Was this a guy you met before I arrived at the bar. (The man he kissed was Asian, and sure enough, that Monday, an Asian man friended him and wrote on his Facebook wall. Coincidence? Maybe. Maybe not.)

Here, he pled complete ignorance. He told me he had no idea who the guy was and couldn’t remember talking to him. He said he had a dream about talking to a bouncer about music and couldn’t remember what was reality and what was a dream since he was so drunk the night before. I knew this was bullsh*t. In my mind, I took a big step back. This was the ultimate betrayal of trust. We weren’t exclusive, but at this point, if he couldn’t be straight up with me, what did we have? Now, even more so, I felt like I was just a convenient booty call who lived across the street.

I explained how everything looks from my perspective. He stayed home the day before to primp his hair and his body, and donned sexy underwear to a gay club. What was he expecting to happen? He didn’t know I was going to meet up with him until he was already at dinner, so it wasn’t for me, and I pointed he never did that for me in the past. Was he opening the possibility of going home with another guy that night? He told me he shaved his body because he doesn’t like to take his shirt off with a hairy body and said the underwear was just a coincidence. He is a bad liar, so he stumbled over the underwear part. I had him figured out, and he didn’t know how to handle it.

Even now, after time has passed, I get emotional writing this and thinking about his mindset. I was obviously more invested in the relationship, but I had no idea the extent. The first morning he woke up in my bed, we talked about how much fun we had the night before and how compatible we were. However, he jokingly added, “Just don’t fall in love with me.” I should have heeded those words, and it’s my fault for falling for someone who was not as emotionally available.

The NYC Pride Parade was back, and this year I was much more comfortable with my sexuality. Last year, I got trapped in the middle of the parade with my parents — my worst nightmare. I couldn’t wait to get out of there. This year, I made an effort to attend.

We all woke up late that morning and I felt sick, which threw a wrench in our plans to catch the tail end of the parade before Boston hopped back on a bus to Boston. We grabbed breakfast in Hoboken, and I became very ill, spending a fair amount of time in the restroom. I was only able to eat half my sandwich. I had a lot to drink the night before, so I chalked it up to a hangover.

Afterwards, we journeyed into the city. We walked around a bit, and then said goodbye to Boston.

N asked what I wanted to do and told me he wanted to grab drinks. He contacted some of his friends he knew were in the city. Finally, two coworkers responded, so we decided to grab drinks and lunch with them.

As we all entered the bar, older creepy men were checking N out. One of N’s coworkers pointed out we were both given the up downs. I was a little creeped out by it, but N thrived on the attention. That really turned me off. I was starting to see a side of N I had never seen before, and I didn’t like what I was seeing. At one point, I went to the bathroom. I knew I would be the topic of conversation while I was gone. When we were walking to dinner later, N pulled me aside and told me they asked if we were dating. I wanted to ask him what his response was, but I wasn’t feeling myself. No words came out. He then gave me a peck on the cheek. We were in Chelsea for Pride Weekend. This is the time he could be very affectionate and open, and the only sign of affection I received all day was a tiny peck on the cheek. The guy from the night before got more action than me.

As the day progressed, I became less and less attracted to N. The way he reacted to some of the more disturbing stories recounted at dinner really threw me for a loop. We ordered dinner, and of course, I couldn’t eat it. Between the alcohol and the emotional turmoil, I felt awful. At one point, one of N’s coworkers mouthed across the table, “Are you okay?” I told him I was just really tired from the night before.

When dinner ended, N wanted to continue drinking. It was Sunday night, and I was beat, as were his coworkers. Begrudgingly, he agreed to come back to Hoboken and back to my apartment. When we were one block from my apartment, N reached down and held my hand. It was a very romantic gesture, but too little too late. As we came in sight of his apartment, he released my hand. This romantic gesture lasted all of thirty seconds.

When we got back to my apartment, I decided it was time to tell him about my blog. It was his right to know, and I needed to know if it upset him before I continued. He was shocked to hear about it, but told me he didn’t care and wasn’t going to read it. So, to all my faithful readers, the show goes on. I also came clean about the extent of my relationship with the 40 year-old. I did this because I lied to him about the interaction, but was truthful in my blog. I wanted him to hear the truth from my mouth, not a computer screen. This upset him immensely, which I couldn’t understand. It all happened before I met him. However, he apparently had some background information about this man and was holding it against me. I tried to defend myself, but he didn’t want to hear it. It bothered me that he was so upset, but I couldn’t undo the past.

At that point, we started to watch porn. The computer was out, and I suppose we needed to break the tension. I never did this with Broadway, but I was open to the idea with N. However, he got overly excited by this. He started about how he’d love to be a porn star. Once again, I was losing the attraction to the man in front of me. This was not the guy I fell for. I still had no idea what happened to cause the switch, but something was very different with him.

All of a sudden, we were interrupted by the sound of fireworks. We completely forgot about them. We ran to the balcony to watch. In the middle of all the explosions, I burst out with, “So are we exclusive?”

The next few moments were a blur, but I do know the gist of answer was no. I could understand if we weren’t exclusive up to that point, but I couldn’t fathom not being exclusive going forward.

When he explained his lack of interest in a monogamous relationship, I asked him if he has been sleeping with any other men since he met me. He told me of one guy he hooked up with after our third or fourth date. They exchanged blowjobs, but when this other man told him he was kind of in a relationship, N decided it better to be just friends. (This is also one of the guys he and I were possibly going to meet up with earlier that day.)

I couldn’t understand his rational. If he didn’t want to be “the other man,” why was he willing to seek out another man himself. What we had was pretty great, but he was leaving the door open for himself. If something better came along, he would upgrade. When I expressed this to him, he asked, “Upgrade to what?” I immediately responded, “A better situation.” It was so simple to me, how could he not understand that? I felt so used! He explained he wasn’t seeking out other men, but that didn’t make it any better. I already couldn’t trust him, and I had a pretty strong feeling he was lying.

I felt awful. Like someone stabbed me with a knife. Before the conversation, I knew what his answer was going to be, but hearing him say no broke my heart all over again. I was a shell of a human being.

After we finished talking, we went inside and had sex, and I finally got to have my way with him — All the way this time, not just the tip. It was pretty good too, but ended quickly due to N’s lack of experience.

In my mind, things were beginning to end between us. It’s almost as if that night was our breakup sex. I was pleased to know I got it in at least once before we broke up. I don’t know why, but it felt fulfilling. That’s how I knew it was over. I lost the emotional connection to the man who days earlier I was falling in love with.

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Your Cheating Heart

Saturday, I woke up fairly later in the morning. N was still sleeping in my bed, and Boston was still sleeping on the couch when I started to make breakfast. I fried up some frozen homemade sausage patties and eggs. In the meantime, my two favorite men woke up and joined me in the kitchen. I brewed a pot of coffee, and we sat and ate. Boston and I planned to go into the city for the day. He hadn’t been to the city in ten years. He is in music school and asked to check out the original Steinway store to play on some of their finest pianos. We invited N to join, but his plans included shaving his back and getting a haircut.

When breakfast ended, N and I went into my room and fooled around. I was horny since we didn’t do anything the night before and hungry for real sex. But, N wasn’t 100% cooperative. “I feel bad that Boston is out there alone right now. Ya know, we could let him watch,” he said with a wink and a smile. I just laughed it off and continued with my heavy petting. (I did feel bad for Boston because he got out of the shower and all his clean clothes were in my bedroom.) When I finally realized it wasn’t going to happen, we stopped. N went home to get ready for his day of primping, and I showered to get ready for the city. (I would later come to find N accusing me of hooking up with Boston at this point)

When Boston and I arrived in the city, we came upon a street fair. We walked around and got lunch. Following, I showed him some of the major attractions. It was really nice just relaxing with Boston and walking around the city. He started to feel like a little brother. Finally we arrived at the Steinway and Son’s a half hour before they were about to close for a recital. Boston sat at a few of the pianos and blew me away with his talent. I told him if he ever wanted to impress a guy, he should take him to a piano store and it would be in the bag.

We also stopped into to Saks to visit one of Boston’s old friends. We said hi, and he invited us to a house party and a drag show at a bar on the lower east side, Drom.

On the walk back to Port Authority, we passed a few of the pianos sprinkled around the city. I made Boston sit and play after The Naked Cowboy finished tinkering in Times Square. He ended up being filmed by the man in charge of documenting the project. Overall, I’d say it was a good day for Boston.

When we got back to Hoboken, we got dressed to go out and went to my friend K’s for a bbq. We were skipping the house party, but were going to meet them at Drom.

Likewise, N had plans for the night. Originally, he told me he was going out to dinner with friends and they didn’t know if they were staying in the city or coming back to Hoboken. To me, this meant straight friends. I figured i received no details because he wasn’t out to his- fellow diners. I was wrong. As the day went on, I received more details. He was going to dinner with eight gay men, and then it evolved into them going to Industry, a gay bar.

I asked him if it was an issue if we met up at Industry until Boston’s friends went to the lower east side. He told me to come. When Industry had a long line, they decided to go to Ritz, not my favorite bar. Boston and I finished at the bbq and headed to Ritz. On the walk there from Port Authority, I expressed my concerns about N and the night. I told him how shady it felt since he was being somewhat secretive. When we arrived, N’s phone was dying. I tried calling and texting to no avail. We went into the first floor and couldn’t find him anywhere. We tried upstairs to no avail as well. Finally, he texted me back. He was outside to smoking and trying to find us.

When he finally came back in, he was a drunk sweaty mess. I was way too sober to be there. I get very uncomfortable in gay bars for some reason. So, I ordered four straight vodka shots, two of which were for myself. He began to grind his ass in my crotch, and I liked it! This was the first time we could dance together and not create a total scene. A good portion of the night from then on is a blur for me. I got very drunk so I could tolerate the heat and the club and have blacked out a few bits.

When Boston got a text from his friends, we decided to leave. N told me he was coming with us. I was very pleasantly surprised. Boston and I went outside while N said goodbye to his fiends. When ten minutes passed, and he didn’t come out, I went back into the bar. As I was walking up the stairs, I noticed him talking to someone. Men were passing between us going up and down the stairs, but just then I saw him lean in and kiss this man. My heart shattered into a million pieces. In that millisecond, I felt my world crumbling around me. I know it was just one little kiss, but the fact that he was talking to another man, exchanging numbers and kissing broke my heart. I was crushed.

I didn’t know what to do other than run. I turned and sped down the stairs. He must have seen me at that instant because he chased after me. He tried to spin me around by grabbing my shoulder, but I flung my arms into the air and shouted, “Don’t touch me!” All that went through my head at that point was how many other guys were you grinding on and kissing before I arrived at the bar? We never had the exclusive conversation, but at that point, he was sleeping in my bed almost every night. We were in a relationship, even if it wasn’t defined.

He tried to calm me down on the street, but I was making a scene. I didn’t know what to do. When I get heated I get loud. He asked me to have a conversation and stop shouting, but I couldn’t be calm. I couldn’t be rational. I was enraged. Somehow, he managed to calm me down and convince me it was just a peck on the cheek in passing. Out of my inebriation, I let it go, and we went to the next bar. I felt awful. Boston was standing across the street witnessing this whole scene uncomfortably waiting for us to meet up with his friends at Drom.

In the cab ride, I decided I would pretend it didn’t happen for the night. Boston was only in town until the morning. I would deal with the situation later. I needed to entertain my good friend.

Boston lost his ID the night before, so when we attempted to enter the bar, the bouncer was not cooperative. Finally, when I shoved $40 into his hand, he let us in. After we each paid the $12 cover (on to of the $40), we came to realize Boston’s friends already left. The scene was dead. When I realized there was no chance in hell I was going to have fun the rest of the night, we grabbed a few drinks, and I volunteered to go on the hunt to find Boston a man to have fun with. We asked him what his type was. He explained. Then, N asked him if he was a top or a bottom. (This really had no relevance to the situation, and I think N took advantage to satiate his own curiosity.) When Boston was reluctant to elaborate, N said, “I’m a total top, but I love it when he puts his dick in my ass.” This was news to me. Especially since it never really fully made it there. It was just confirmation he was pumping Boston for information because he had a crush on him.

At one point, N and Boston walked to the bar to get drinks while I went to the restroom. Days later, Boston recounted for me the following exchange: N firmly gripped Boston’s ass and said, “How do you get an ass like that? So tight and firm. I’d really like to put my dick in there.” Had I known this happened that night, I would have left the bar with Boston and that would have been the end of it.

When we were all thoroughly exhausted and bored, we hopped in a cab back to Hoboken. No sooner we were in the door, and N was passed out face down on my bed in his underwear. This raised a whole new red flag in my brain. He was donning the sexiest underwear I’d ever seen him wear. His back was freshly shaved, his chest was cleanly shaved and he had a new haircut. All those are fine, but who was he expecting to see his underwear at a gay club. He spent the entire day getting ready for this night out. He never spent that much time primping to see me. Everything was starting to add up. From the business trip I took on, N was quickly distancing himself and seeking relationship freedom.

I went back out to the kitchen to chat with Boston. He immediately said, “OK! What happened!? What did you see!?” I explained to him the kiss, and in typical fashion, he dealt me the truth. He explained how N manipulated me that night as he watched from across the street. He told me to trust what I saw and trust my own instincts. We talked for at least another hour after that.

N’s phone was sitting there the whole time as well. I picked it up and was about to look through his Grindr messages because I wanted to find the closure I needed to tell him it was over. I couldn’t trust him anymore, but if I had proof, I would be able to get over it myself. Boston convinced me how bad that idea was. I put the phone down without pushing a button. To this day, I still regret not looking. It’s completely out of character for me to not trust someone and read their phone, but it would have delivered me the closure I needed.

At that point, I was exhausted. Physically and emotionally. That night I was delivered a heavy blow to the gut and needed to sleep to forget about it even for one instant. Boston went to the couch, and I begrudgingly went to share my bed with the man I had seen kissing another man. I laid down with my back to him and tears streaming down my face. I was crushed by what happened. I had no idea what to do. I still had very strong feelings for him, but couldn’t turn a blind eye. It isn’t who i am. I’m no one’s fallback or second best. However, I did know it was certainly not going to be a fun morning for him either…

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My Cheating Heart

When I returned from my business trip to Denver, things weren’t as they were before I left. N was slightly distant. His behavior was different. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but something was definitely off.

Over the course of our time together, I noticed certain behaviors of his that raised red flags. For instance, he spent a lot of time at the gym. Now, I’ve known gym rats in my time, but I’ve never known anyone who spent quite as much time there as him. Or, at least that’s where he told me he was. Night after night, he’d spend 3+ hours lifting and doing cardio. Normally, I would appreciate such dedication, but after some of the stories he told me about what went down at the downtown Hoboken New York Sports Club, I started to get worried he might be participating (including stories of guys blowing each other in the steam room). I had no evidence or proof he was doing anything wrong, but deep down I had a suspicious feeling everything wasn’t on the level.

I really came to resent that gym. We both belonged to NYSC. I would work out in the uptown Hoboken NYSC which is newer and above ground, and I would ask him to join me. He always declined, telling me he was going downtown. I came to realize why we went downtown so much. He was getting his ego stroked, which was really getting to me. In the beginning I thought it was cute. I would call him things like princess and make noises as if I were blowing up a balloon when his head got too big. But, things started getting out of hand. He would come home from the gym bragging about the guys that checked him out. He would tell me about men slipping notes into his locker. Why he felt the need to share this information is beyond me. I belonged to the same family of gyms, and this NEVER happened to me. We are both attractive men. The difference was he was inviting it. I wasn’t jealous either. I had him. I didn’t need anyone else. I knew something had to be invited in some way from him for this to happen. Finally, I made blatant comments to him about why he went down there. It never fazed him. But if I said he goes there because he liked his ego stroked publicly, he got annoyed with me.

As I was beginning to wake up from the dream I thought was a relationship, I also noticed N spent a lot of time on Grindr. I know that’s how we met, and I have respect for the application, but it’s a death trap. It gets addicting and puts you in the constant mindset of being able to look constantly for something else, even if you’re already happy with what you have. It distances you from the process. If you were seeing a guy for a month and a half, and were walking down the street with him, you wouldn’t give another man the up-down in person. However, if you’re sitting next to the man you’ve been seeing, it’s possible to be looking at other men right in front of you without feeling guilty, which is what he was doing. He answered messages with me standing two feet away. This was a bold and brazen move I did not appreciate at all, even if he was just making friends.I was legitimately worried N was constantly seeking an upgrade model. I too was guilty. I was still talking to guys on Grindr and saying inappropriate things, but I never asked for a number or tried to meet up with any guys. It was more of an entertainment to pass the time.

These, among many other behaviors, created vast doubt in my mind of N’s faithfulness. He was new to the gay world. He didn’t know what he wanted. He just ended a long term relationship shortly before he met me. I was willing to be understanding of a lot of things since he was so new, and I was in his position one year prior. But, at this point, we’d been seeing each other for over a month and a half. For the sake of my emotional well-being, as well as my physical well-being, I couldn’t tolerate infidelity.

I started to get angry and resentful. When a guy from Hoboken started pursuing me on Grindr, I got sucked in. I immediately told him I was involved in a relationship and was purely looking for friends to hang out with. I had no one in my arsenal of gay friends other than Boston and NC. The conversation started off innocent, but then quickly escalated to a sexual nature. I was doing exactly what I accused N of in my mind. But, at this point, I was in revenge mode. I didn’t have proof he was cheating on me, but I knew it in my gut he was. Some of his stories didn’t hold up, and I caught him in lies. When there are inconsistencies, the mind will fill in the blanks and it has a tendency to run wild with possibilities. I also my actions because we never agreed we were exclusive. If he could philander, so could I. So when this guy asked if we could meet at my apartment for a quicky after work, I obliged.

I raced home that day and showered. Shortly after, he knocked on my door and came in. We went into my bedroom and chatted before making out. Then things got hot and heavy. It was quick but satisfying. This guy knew I was in a relationship with a guy across the street, and I told him to be discreet. So basically, I was using him for his body, and that’s it. This was a one-time gig to level the emotional playing field with N in my mind.

This isn’t who I am. I dated Broadway for ten months without cheating on him once. The thought never crossed my mind. And, he was my first gay relationship, just as I was N’s. I hated N for making me feel this way. It’s what drove me to “cheat” in the first place. But he didn’t make me do it. I did it of my own accord. Now, I know technically I didn’t do anything wrong, as we were never exclusive, but I broke my own moral code. I let myself down. I have to take responsibility for that. I did that and no one else. I didn’t like who I was becoming. And, I’m sorry and I was wrong!

That night, N was busy and didn’t spend the night. A big part of me wondered whose bed he slept in that night, but who am I to talk? I was happy, because while I wanted to seek revenge for N’s suspected cheating, I couldn’t fathom him sleeping on the same sheets I had sex with another man on. However, that night I slept on clean sheets in my bed sharing only with my guilt and my regret.

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Breaking San Francisco’s Heart

After San Francisco’s visit, I realized we were not compatible. He had quite a few skeletons in his closet. And, it wasn’t the skeletons that bothered me most. What bothered me most was the feeling he was hiding all these secrets. So many past relationships with such a diverse crowd of men much older than I, drug use, some cross-dressing, etc. We come from different worlds, on top of the fact that he lived on the other side of the country.

After playing it cool for a week, I decided to end it, or at least find a way to morph it into a friendship. I spent the week being slightly less available to his phone calls, instant messages, etc. I was doing all the cowardly things I preach against. If I were a real man, I would have told him while he was still in New York, before he went home. Apparently, I need to grow a pair before I tell everyone else to.

Furthermore, I decided to clue him in on my feelings with a text message. I’m such a coward. I wasn’t about to “break up” with him over text, but I couldn’t bring myself to pick up the phone and say it all out loud. Pretending like everything was okay was really getting to me. I don’t do the charades very well. Especially after spending 26 years in the closet. Life’s too short to pretend anymore. So, I sent the following textwhile walking through the mall with my friend:

Hey. I think we need to talk about things. I had a really great time with you out there and when you came to visit, but I just don’t think I’m cut out for the distance thing. I ended my last relationship because I never got to see him, and it appears I’ve gotten myself into the same situation… It’s really been wearing on me over the past few weeks. You are the biggest sweetheat I’ve ever met! You deserve someone you can be with… I have no regrets and hope that you will still want to be a part of my life as a very special friend I cherish forever… I hope you understand!

I didn’t tell him it was because of all of the hidden facets of his life I discovered when he came to visit. I didn’t think it was necessary. The distance thing had already gotten to me before he even stepped foot on a plane. That was the root of the issue. The others were just what made me step into action on ending whatever it is we had.

He responded, I felt like something was up. Can you talk now?

I replied back, I figured you would… I can’t now… Out with friends, but we can talk later…

He took the opportunity to respond with his feelings and sentiments:

I understand. I always say people come into our lives for a reason… You have taught me how good it feels to love regardless of age, distance, and future. Love knows nothing, except how happy one can be. I took a chance to open my heart and have no regrets. Boo, I know distance did not change how happy you made me every time I was with you, texting, skyping or just thinking of you. We both deserve someone to be with, and I hope you find somoene who will always cherish every minute with you as much as I did. A hui ho, 😉  (Hawaiin for until we meet again).

I told him he is the sweetest man I have ever met in my life and apologized if I hurt him. To which he responded, You have a piece of my heart, and I have a piece of yours, so we will always be connected. And will cherish your friendship. Let’s talk later.

We did speak later on the phone. He understood where I was coming from, and he agreed on many points.

We still talk to each other periodically. For a while, it was still uncomfortable because he sent me messages telling me he missed me. Now, he’ll message me to ask what I have planned for the weekend or to ask how my day’s going. We’ve talked about dates we’ve gone on with other people as well. Recently, he had to find a new roommate. Turns out the new roommate’s name is the same as mine, which is not very common. I guess it’s safe to say I’ve officially been replaced.

We will forever be friends, and I do cherish his friendship. And, maybe, one day our paths will cross again…

 

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Lunch on Broadway

Broadway and I have been civil since our breakup. Periodically, he messages me, mainly after he reads a misconstrued or particularly positive Facebook status update. He always messages me to make sure everything is okay or to congratulate me. It’s very nice to know he still cares enough about me to reach out with concern/praise.

When he asked me to find time for the two of us to meet up, I graciously agreed. Over two months had passed. And, it had been a while since we fully caught up with each other’s lives, and I hadn’t seen him since we broke up (with the exception of his profile on adam4adam.com and Grindr). A little part of me missed him too.

I really enjoyed the lunch I had from Cosi when I met “The Wild Card” in Bryant park, so I suggested we do that. We met in front of Cosi. He warned me on the phone beforehand he injured his ankle and was wearing a boot. When he hobbled up to me, I couldn’t help but smile. It truly was good to see him. The feelings of a relationship did not come rushing back. I didn’t miss him like an ex. I missed him like a friend who moved away and I hadn’t seen in a while. We kissed each other on the lips and gave each other a hug.

I have seen so many gay men kiss their friends on the lips, especially when San Francisco came to visit, and I have always felt slightly uneasy about it. I could not put myself in that position. I have just a few gay friends, and we do not greet each other in this way. I also don’t kiss my female friends in this way when we greet each other. I don’t know if all the men I’ve seen were in previous relationships with each other, or that’s just a gay culture norm. But, it felt right to kiss Broadway on the lips. We’d done it so many times before, not doing it would feel strange.

After our hug and peck, we went in to Cosi. Broadway and I have a bit of history with Cosi. We’d eaten there many times, and he even used to work at one when he first moved to NYC from California. It felt a bit like old times, but once again, not like we were simply picking back up where we left off. We got our food, and we made our way into the park to find a table to sit and chat. I helped him get settled in since he was slightly immobilized.

He immediately started with, “So, what’s new?”

I began to tell him about work, and how things were goingin my life. I avoided discussing the dates I had gone on, as well as the fact that I was on a4a.

I asked about what was new in his life. He told me about his new roommate situation and how the dynamic between his friends deteriorated. He told me about how he was possibly pitching a pilot to the L.O.G.O. Network from one of his college courses. He told me how he injured his foot, and what that meant as far as his show was concerned. He always joked about wanting to get injured in the summer so he could live on Fire Island during his recovery. I said, “Well, you got what you always wanted!” All in all, he seemed very happy with life.

As the conversation progressed, I could tell he was pressing to see if I was dating anyone. I decided to tell him about San Francisco, especially since I was beginning to have serious doubts about any possibility of us continuing our relationship anyway. After I told him about all those doubts, I could see it in his face. He looked at me with this “get out now” look. And, it wasn’t a jealous look. It was a “just lookin’ out for ya” kind of exchange.

We both finished our sandwich/salad, and it was time for me to head back to work. My hour was up. As we began to leave the park, I realized how easygoing our lunch date was. I was slightly worried early on it might be awkward but not the case. The conversation flowed smoothly, and I don’t think anyone got their feelings hurt. It was good progress.

I expressed my pleasure with the lunch, and I suggested we do it again and more often. We obviously got along well and enjoyed each other’s company. There is no reason why we shouldn’t spend more time together. I expressed this sentiment, and he agreed happily. And, with that, we head our separate ways.

That reminds me. I think I owe him a phone call…

 

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Dumping HR

I had two good dates with HR. There were no fireworks, but after our make-out session at Industry, there could be a connection there.

After closer examination, I came to the realization we weren’t a good fit for each other. We had a lot of common interests, but there was nothing about him that made me yearn for more.

I had to bite the bullet and tell him. Because I was having a busy week, I kept putting off the call. It was awkward, and any excuse I could muster to not call was a good one.

Finally, I got to the point where I realized I was dragging this out far too long. I decided to just text him and explain the situation. I was worried he would be offended I was telling him this over text since he was a classy guy, but I thought it was better than putting it off any longer.

“Hey man. I know I owe you a text or a call. I’m not the type to just fall off the face of the earth… You’re a really nice guy, and I had fun, but I just don’t think you’re what I’m looking for right now. Sorry! I hope you understand…”

I was out with friends for trivia at a local bar in Hoboken when I sent the text. As soon as I sent it, I felt a burden lift and began to enjoy my night out.

While I ate my dinner, I got a reply from HR.

“No worries. Thanks for letting me know. I had fun too, but agree we’re not a match. Best of luck to you in everything.”

I turned to my friends with a smile on my face and said, “See! Why can’t they all be this easy!” showing them the text on my phone. They all laughed because they could sympathize with the uncomfortable situation. They’d all been there before at some point.

Every date I go on teaches me something new. I’m glad I went out with HR, but I’m also glad I could realize when a relationship wouldn’t have legs to stand on. I’m also proud of myself for having the confidence to realize there are other guys out there who may be a much better fit for me.

And with that, I was back out in the dating pool.

 

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San Francisco Comes to The Big Apple

In the week leading up to San Francisco’s arrival in New York, I began to have doubts. I was staying up until 3:00 am most nights to talk to him. Morning runs became a thing of the past, and my waistline showed it. I went on a few dates since I left San Francisco, but none compared to the immediate, strong connection I had with him. I had no replacement, but I doubted my ability to continue a long-distance relationship.

As I drove to the airport I had panicky thoughts. What was I doing!? A man was flying 2,563 miles cross country to see me after spending two shorts days together. Was I ready for this commitment? I wasn’t worried about getting hurt because I was strong and had an open mind about us, but what if I broke his heart?

When he arrived, we shared a long, passionate kiss. We talked on the ride home. When we arrived at my apartment and hopped into bed relatively quickly. This time, I insisted on a condom. I wasn’t making that mistake with him again! I learned my lesson. He too was on the same page about the issue.

After a romp in the sack and quick shower, we traveled into the city. He made plans to meet one of his old friends. Little did I know, but old friend really meant old. He was 50 years old. They were flight attendants together way back in the day. That night, the three of us went to see Sister Act on Broadway.

During intermission, I was chatting with the 50 year-old. He was complaining about the difficulty of deciding if men were gay or straight. He pointed to one particularly sexy man I was eyeing, “Like him. Gay or straight? Who can tell?” At that moment, I looked over the man’s shoulder and noticed he was chatting with someone on Grindr.

I replied, “Gay!” and explained. I was tempted to immediately hop on Grindr and seek him out, but there was no possible way to pull it off while on a cross-country date. However, I still regret not talking to the sexy man.

At dinner following the show, I met yet another old friend — a 40 year-old. I’m a good sport and can hang with ease, but dinner became truly awkward when the discussion turned to age. San Francisco is seven years older than me. His friends pointed out that he’s never been the older man, and then they insisted I call him “daddy” while they filmed it on one a BlackBerry. I adamantly declined.

We met yet another friend at Barbasque. Finally, he was someone in my age bracket and one of the sweetest guys I’ve ever met. He welcomed me right off the bat and chatted me up most of the night.

The next day, we met with yet another old roommate, this time on the Upper West Side. This time a married couple in their 50s whose guest room SF used to live in. The one husband who was home was not very welcoming to my presence. I felt incredibly awkward, and couldn’t wait to exit his apartment.

We wandered the city shopping, and that night, he made plans to meet three friends for dinner. Luckily, everyone at dinner was in their 30s, and the nice guy from the night before was there. So, I spent the night chatting with him while SF caught up with the others.

Throughout dinner, San Francisco had one hand on my leg, and the other on the leg of his best friend from New York. They were being a little more than just friendly. They had a long history, and I don’t get jealous. But, I started to feel a bit jaded.

After dinner, San Francisco, the best friend and I went to a bar. The two of them were tipsy, and the truth finally came out.

I learned he had been going to gay clubs in New York since the age of 19. Not only that, but he was the one known to be carrying K among his circle of friends. I am not anti-drug use, but the picture that was being painted was not something I wanted to hang on my wall.

The ride home that night on the PATH was a quiet one. I could tell it really bothered him that I wasn’t drinking with his friends, but I wasn’t feeling well after dinner. I asked him, “What’s wrong?” but he wouldn’t acknowledge his discontent. I explained my lack of participation was due to feeling ill after dinner, and he became slightly more relaxed.

As we waited for a cab, SF and two drunk “frat guys” exchanged shoulder checks and words. SF is roughly 5’ 5” — no match for these two — but his beer muscles were flexed. I attempted to avoid the situation by coaxing him into the cab. However, he escalated it by rolling down the window shouting back at them and antagonizing them.

He rationalized the situation as protecting me and didn’t stop ranting about how he could have taken them until he finally fell asleep. I was starting to have my feelings affirmed that a relationship between the two of us was not meant to be. I will always defend myself, but antagonizing drunk as$holes is infantile and useless.

The next day, we took my motorcycle out for a spin and spent the day on the pier with one of my friends. When SF left to get ice cream, she asked me how it was going. I explained to her the situation. It was written all over her face — this relationship had ended.

That night, my sister and a few of my friends came over for dinner. I graciously invited all of his friends to join, but all declined. I enjoyed seeing how much my friends accepted him, but at this point, I was completely turned off by his past. That night, we had sex again, but the passion was gone for me.

On his last day in NY, we met one final ex-roommate. While SF was a flight attendant, he lived with a hairdresser in a 1BR apt. Whenever SF was out of town, the hairdresser got the bed, but when SF returned, the hairdresser was relegated to the couch. Meanwhile, he was running a salon out of this 1BR apt. The whole idea was inconceivable to me.

At one point during lunch, between reminiscings of cross dressing and coke lines while watching The Golden Girls, the hairdresser waved his hands at us and bluntly said, “So, what is this?” I was insulted by the tone in which the question was posed, but i wrote him off when I remembered the main purpose of the cross-country excursion was to visit me, not him.

We went home and had one last romp. At this point, I was going through the motions. It wasn’t so much his past that turned me off, as it was that he was hiding it from me.

When I dropped him at the airport, we kissed and said goodbye. SF was the still the sweetest man I ever met, and I truly did enjoy his company. But, I wasn’t completely heartbroken to see him off.

As I walked home after parking the car, I felt alone. I wasn’t sure if it was because he was by my side for the past 72 hours, or it was because I already missed him. Only time would tell.

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Breaking Up Broadway

Just want to start today’s post by reminding everyone it is the International Day Against Homophobia, held on May 17 every year. Keep it in your thoughts today, and every day.

On with the show…

After Florida, it’s pretty clear I was no longer committed to a relationship. I needed to end it. It crushed me to think such thoughts, but my heart was no longer in it.

When I got back, I texted Broadway asking if we could talk. After a short exchange, I wasn’t sure if he could see what was coming. I agonized over how to break the news.

That night, I met him after his show; no overnight bag on my shoulder. We awkwardly hugged and exchanged a peck on the lips. He asked me if I was ok. I said, “Yes,” with a shrug. He asked me what I wanted to talk to him about. This was the moment of truth.

“I feel like we’ve been drifting apart over the past few weeks,” I said.

He responded, “That’s it?”

I said, “No. I just want to hear your thoughts.” After that, I elaborated. I explained my feelings about how he acted during his trip to Barcelona and the previous weeks in general. He silently walked beside me taking it all in. I was so proud of myself for saying how I truly felt. I didn’t sugar coat it.

When I finished, he took his turn. He told me all my points were fair and valid, but I could never be prepared for what came next. He said, “You’re just not a priority in my life right now. I have school and work…”

I felt like someone punched me in the gut. I turned to him and said, “I have to say, that was very hard to hear.” I began to get a little choked up. Until then, I was strong and resolved in breaking up, but that statement tainted out entire relationship together. I wasn’t prepared to hear anything so harsh.

He acknowledged his emotional issues and his inability to call me his boyfriend. He also took the opportunity to unload a lot of issues he’d been holding back for some time. He pointed out my issues with the gay scene. I have never felt comfortable in gay clubs, and he knew this. He went on to tell me how uncomfortable and threatened he felt going to my favorite straight bar in Hobobken.

This was news to me. I defended myself. While not comfortable with the flamboyant gay scene, he never asked me to go. With the right crowd and understanding, I’m sure I could find comfort. I was uncomfortable because it was not familiar to me. He never gave me a chance.

This went back-n-forth. It never turned into a fight. We never fought through the 10 months we were in a relationship. We weren’t about to start now. It was a discussion about our differences. We came to an agreement. Although we were very compatible, we were not meant to be dating.

The conversation turned casual. He showed me pictures on his phone from Barcelona and asked about Florida. The he asked me how drinks with Boston went. After blatantly lying about its innocence, he said, “Well I had to ask. You know how it could look from my perspective.”

I immediately rebuked with, “Well, you have to know how it looks when you buy 2 bottles of lube the day you go away.”

He explained. He bought it for us to use. It was just cheaper than usual. And then added, “But, touché. I could see ho that looks shady.”

After walking around the city talking for an hour, I dropped him at his apt. We kissed and embraced. Finally, I pulled back and said, “Just because we’re not dating doesn’t mean we can’t hang out.”

As I walked to Port Authority, I felt power. Before this night, I don’t know if I would have had the confidence to be a person who set in motion the actions that would end a relationship. I was a new man who was about to fully exercise his new found freedom.

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