Posts Tagged bus
Cleaning Up
Posted by One Gay at a Time in Gay Dating on January 13, 2012
My night had gone pretty smoothly. I had a great time, there was minimal drama and I ended the night with a great guy, Smiles.
I did my best to put all the food away before heading to bed the night before. It was a fairly easy cleanup. However, that left all the dishes to be done and a lot of cleaning around the apartment.
I woke at a decent hour and didn’t even have a hint of hangover, which is surprising considering I drank sangria most of the night. My teammate from Maryland woke shortly after me. She needed to go into the city to catch a bus home, but was going to stick around for breakfast before she left. She asked if she could have some of the leftovers, and I prepared a few things for her.
In the meantime, Smiles emerged from my bed, and we made coffee for ourselves with my Keurig Elite Brewer coffee machine. It’s perfect because we can each pick our flavor of tasty Green Mountain Coffee, and we don’t have to wait for a whole pot to brew. It’s absolutely great! (Yes, I’m plugging them because I absolutely love that thing, and I’m hoping they read this and feel gracious enough to reach out to me… Wishful thinking…)

After she ate, my teammate asked for directions to the bus back into the city to Port Authority and was on her way. Smiles had made his way back to my bedroom and got dressed to head home. I was hoping he’d stick around for a little bit (I wasn’t expecting him to help clean), but I was mistaken. I would have liked to spend a lil more time with him, but he had plans.
I said goodbye to him with a kiss and a hug as I thanked him for everything from the night before.
My other roommate who was stuck in Canada arrived home in the meantime. He asked about the party. He was very disappointed he missed it. He’d been to three of the previous four even though we’d only been roommates six months.
Then, I was left with my mess. I did all the dishes and ran the dishwasher. I put all the wine in the wine fridge. I poured all the leftover sangria down the drain trying not to gag. I put all the liquor no one drank away. And then I swept the floors. They hadn’t been swept since we moved in.
I did all this while my roommates sat on the couch watching TV. My happy mood had soured. I didn’t expect them to help. I made it clear to them it was my party. Therefore it was my mess to clean up. However, after asking for permission, the roommate that was away had no problem scarfing down a plate of the food and leaving it in the sink for me to clean up. And, the other roommate, who attended the party and did nothing to help me prepare didn’t lift a finger. I didn’t resent that they weren’t helping me clean up. I more resented that I worked my ass off to get the apartment in shape, and they didn’t offer one iota of gratitude. Sure, it was out of selfish desires that I worked so hard and fast. But, they both greatly benefited from my efforts.
The cleaning was over surprisingly fast. When I finished, I planted myself on the couch for the remainder of the evening.
Later than evening, I witnessed my roommate come out of her room and heat up a plateful of the leftovers from the night before. I really resented this, purely because she didn’t take the two seconds to ask me if she could have it. I can be generous at times, but she didn’t pay one cent for it and did nothing to prepare it. The least she could do is ask.
So, I did what any mature roommate would do. When she went into her room, I left a passive aggressive post-it on the fridge saying, “If you didn’t lift a finger to purchase this food or make it, then don’t lift a finger to eat it.” I’m not sure why I was in such a p*ssy mood, but it really got under my skin. I think I was just feeling very under-appreciated overall, and I was taking it out on her.
Later she emerged once again from her room. As she passed the fridge, she read the note, made a noise of discontent and returned to her room.
I had the immediate satisfaction of getting under her skin as much as she did mine, but I would certainly have to deal with the ramifications of that later. I returned to watching TV and being in a cranky mood for the rest of the night. I wished I’d spent the day with Smiles. I was in such a good mood from spending time with him the night before. Hopefully tomorrow would bring happier times…
Follow @onegayatatimeSexy Eyes
Posted by One Gay at a Time in Gay Dating on October 13, 2011
After seeing Sexy Eyes on the street with my roommate, I decided to make him a priority. He not only impressed me, but also my roommate. She wanted to date him . He was charming and funny and had a smile and sexy green eyes that gave me butterflies.
On my way home that night, I began texting immediately. He was all but begging me to stay in the city that night with him, but I insisted I would not let my roommate walk home alone at that hour of the night. He heavily respected my decision, but also attempted to persuade me to come back on another bus after I walked her home.
Instead, I promised we would go out the following Friday. That still didn’t satiate him. He wanted to know why we couldn’t meet Thursday. I explained I had my volleyball league Thursday nights, so I would be unable to meet up. I figured he would understand being quite the volleyball player himself.
That of course was a lie. I scheduled a meeting with a guy from OKCupid. It was an interesting scenario. The guy reached out to me originally, but after chatting a bit, I came to learn he was seeing someone. He was just looking for friends. I didn’t buy it of course, but if that’s what he really wanted, I was game. I need gay friends. We scheduled happy hour drinks for Thursday evening after work.
On top of that, I scheduled another date with a guy I met on Grindr a week prior. Between these two, there would be no time to meet Sexy Eyes.
When the OKCupid friend had to bail because of a follow-up job interview, I decided to see if Sexy Eyes was available for after work coffee. I figured we could sit and chat and get to know each other a little better.
He bit. He was extremely excited to see me. Immediately following work, I walked down to the Starbucks closest to his office. He works at a financial law firm and would not be finished for the evening. He was, however, able to step out for about an hour to chat.
The conversation was mainly dominated by him, but it was good nonetheless. We talked for about an hour before I told him I needed to head home for volleyball (my other date). Our date ended with a few smooches and a hug. I was really feeling this guy. We shared a lot in common, he was older and had a respectable job, he was very good looking, he was fun to be around… The list goes on. As I walked away, he texted me telling me he wanted to kiss me more, but didn’t want to make a scene near his office. He begged me to come back into the city after my “volleyball game.” I entertained the idea in my head, but I made no promises. Who knew how my next date would go?
I met the next guy at a bar near the Christopher Street PATH station, but that will have to be tomorrow’s blog entry, because as you may have suspected, I wasn’t quite done seeing Sexy Eyes that evening. After my second date, I went home, showered and changed, and hopped on a bus back to the city. Sexy Eyes was just finishing up his own volleyball workout as I was getting to Port Authority.
We agreed we’d go out somewhere, but made no plans. When I arrived at Port Authority, I called him to find out the plan. He told me he just got out of the shower and needed to finish getting ready. He gave me his address and told me to come to his apartment. We would make a decision where to go from there.
When I arrived, I told the doorman who I was there to see, and he let me up to the apartment. I was greeted at the door with a very nice kiss, and we chatted while he finished getting ready.
Somehow, we both ended up in his bedroom just as he finished getting ready. He sat on the bed in front of me, lifted my shirt and began kissing and licking my entire torso. It felt amazing.
Between kisses, he asked if I wanted to go out or just stay in. I didn’t need to verbally answer because I was already removing his shirt. I hadn’t had sex since Labor Day. I won’t say I was a big ball of horny, but he was a very attractive and seemed very interested in me and not just my body. I wanted him. Bad.
(Warning: The following may be graphic for some) Shortly after, he was undoing my belt and unzipping my pants. He was thrilled to learn I submitted to his request to wear briefs. I never wear them, but if a man requests it and thinks I look sexy in them, who am I to disagree? He then pulled down my briefs and opened his mouth and felt amazing. It had been a while since anyone did anything with my body besides my own two hands, so I was completely enjoying the moment.
Things got hotter, and we both ended up on the bed in numerous positions. Throughout the course of our time in bed, he started playfully biting me. I’m not gonna lie. It hurt! I went along with it because they were quick, and I have a high pain threshold. But, I wasn’t entirely into it. This was something that may have to be resolved down the road. At the peak of the passion, I was inside him, and we were both thoroughly enjoying ourselves. He finished during the act, and shortly after, I finished myself off. As per usual with the guys I’ve been with, he was impressed with my finale. Something I’ve learned to take pride in based on the reception it usually gets.
He beckoned me to come join him in the shower to clean up so we could snuggle in bed. After the shower, we laid in bed together and watched the late night news. It was getting very late, and I was constantly dozing off. After realizing this, he suggested we turn off the TV and go to bed. After all, we both had work in the morning, and he had to be up earlier than I did.
The next morning, we woke at the same time. He hopped in the shower while I read over emails from his bed. When he got out, I hopped in for my turn. He told me he would probably be gone by the time I got out. I was instructed to take my time and just pull the door shut behind me on my way out. I thanked him and kissed him goodbye.
That evening, it was affirmed for me the biting had gone too far. All day at work, my chest was sore where he bit me, and when I came home and got undressed, I looked like I was abused in certain spots.
That morning, I walked to work with a smile on my face. It was a good night, and I met a good man who seemed to be interested in me. Over the few months I’ve been out and single, I’ve learned my lesson not to count my chickens before they’ve hatched. Maybe I’ve become slightly jaded in the process, and this bothered me. But, this was something I needed to start doing so I wouldn’t get my hopes up and get hurt in the end.
Follow @onegayatatimeMiami Vice
Posted by One Gay at a Time in Gay Dating on October 7, 2011
Roughly one block away from my date with Dr. Nice, I began texting another guy I had on standby for a date that evening. I wanted to see if I could use my time wisely and see two guys on my free Friday evening. It would help cut down the roster if they weren’t quality guys. The story I told him was that I was out to dinner with clients, and I would get in touch with him as the dinner was ending.
We found each other a few days earlier, and we agreed to meet in Hell’s Kitchen, but never picked a specific location. As I walked south on 9th Avenue after my first date, I found out he wasn’t far. I told him to head north on 9th Avenue, and we would meet in the middle. We could pick somewhere in the neighborhood to grab a drink.
As I was walking, I realized how bad that idea was. We never met before, and there was a good chance we would walk right past each other. I picked a bar, Nizza, and told him to meet me in front of it.
He walked up with a smile from ear to ear. He was somewhat attractive, and when he opened his mouth, his Latino background was screaming at me. I have nothing against it, but I also don’t have much in common with the typical culture.
We grabbed a seat at the bar and ordered a few cocktails. I ordered a Dark and Stormy Float. It was a very interesting drink with the twist of Rum Raisin ice cream. I love Dark and Stormys, but I wasn’t thrilled with this concoction. My date insisted I order something else, but I insisted I would finish it. He enjoyed his drink while we talked about what brought him from Miami to New York. He was working as a producer on a Hispanic television news show, and was looking for a change. He wanted to move to New York and was afforded a job transfer.
It was interesting to learn he was in the city only four months, so he hadn’t yet experienced the changing of the seasons. He wasn’t quite used to the phrase “the end of summer.” As we talked, the conversation began to take shape as me giving him advice on how to adapt to New York City and less about us and any future we may have.
He told me all about being brought up in Miami and how he is going to miss being so close to his family. However, he was thinking about his career and needed to move up in this world. Surprisingly, he was living in New Jersey as well. I knew this bit of information earlier and asked him to meet on the other side of the river, but he explained where he lived and how it would be difficult to meet over there since he had no car.
The date was very pleasant, just as my date earlier that evening, but I wasn’t feeling a spark. When this date ended, I would not have a burning desire to see him again.
We closed our tab, and I agreed to walk him to Port Authority. I was heading there myself to go back to Hoboken for the night. Before he hopped on one of the shuttles, we exchanged hugs. He suggested we find the time to meet up again. I told him we would be in touch and manage to figure something out in the near future.
Of course, he was yet another man who would fall by the wayside due to lack of interest on my part. He was a nice enough guy, but there was nothing there to really draw me in.
It seemed I was back to my old ways of serial unsuccessful dating. I needed my luck to change, or my self-esteem was really going to land in the crapper…
Follow @onegayatatimeA Southern Gentleman
Posted by One Gay at a Time in Gay Dating on August 30, 2011
Before I went to OCMD, I was talking to a southern gentleman who found me on Grindr. We hit it off immediately. He seemed like a level-headed guy, and he was 35. After my last failed relationship with a 25 year-old, I decided older was better. San Francisco opened me up to the idea of dating a man of that age, and I had a good feeling about it.
The Southern Gent and I messaged each other a lot on Grindr. We also exchanged pictures. He found me exceptionally sexy, and I found him to be quite attractive. He was no super model, but he certainly took care of himself. We exchanged Facebook information. I looked through all his pictures. They were of him being crazy at a wedding, boating on a lake, safari hunting in Africa, etc. The guy had a picture of a Zebra he took down. I was impressed and swooning a bit.
We tried to figure out a good time to meet, but it always conflicted with his schedule or mine. After a while, he went completely dark. We made plans to meet one Sunday night, but when that weekend came, I got no response to the many text messages and phone calls I made. “I can only assume you lost interest already… Not sure if I did something, but I’ve sent you msgs with no response. Was excited to meet you… If I’m wrong, you know how to reach me.”
An entire week went by, and I heard no word from him. I removed him from my favorites on Grindr so I wouldn’t have to look at him every time I pulled it up. Of course, that’s when he started to message me again. He apologize emphatically for not getting back to me and blamed most of it on getting a new job. I’m definitely one for giving second chances, and I though he would be a great match for me, so I agreed to meet him when I got back from my vacation.
While in Maryland, we texted periodically. We set up a date for the Sunday evening upon my return home. He picked Pier I Cafe on the Upper West Side. I took the bus into the city and hopped in a cab the rest of the way. I made my way down to the Hudson waterfront and saw him immediately. He had a very New England country club look about him. I liked it. He didn’t look like a snob, but he looked like he appreciated the finer things in life.
We both grabbed beers and tried to find somewhere to plop down. There were no tables available, so we found a cement wall to sit on. We got to know each other slowly. We talked about our jobs, our living situations, working out, college, etc. The conversation was flowing quite easily. He is an architect, which is something that has always interested me. I found it sexy. The one hangup I had with him was he turned into a total queen every time he laughed. He was a bit flamboyant. He could have sucked all the air out of the room after every laugh had we been indoors. It was extremely off-putting. I’m sure you’re all judging me as picky at this point, but it was hard to look past. I was starting to get annoyed with these guys who claimed to be masculine. It’s my one real hangup in the gay dating world, and guys self-judge this aspect of their lives VERY poorly. Basically, I’m attracted to dudes who just so happen to be attracted to other dudes as well, not some big ‘mo.
I also started to gauge the level of chemistry between us. It wasn’t exactly at its peak either. We shared a lot in common, but I could tell the attraction wasn’t there on both sides. We both passionately talked about cooking and our specialties. It was an interesting conversation. After a while, I noticed one of my friends. He also noticed me, so on one of his trips to the bar, he swung by to say hi. I introduced him to the Southern Gent and talked to him about how things were going since his marriage in Key West.
Four rounds and one basket of calamari later, it was time to go home. I gave him a small kiss on the lips and said, “We should do this again sometime.” I didn’t have such a good feeling about our chemistry as I did before the date. I was a little disappointed, but I thought maybe I needed to give him a second chance. I would leave that up to him. If he was interested, he would followup the date with a phone call. When the call never came, I knew my suspicions were accurate. I unfriended him on Facebook so I could write about my dates without feeling guilty.
I was disappointed it didn’t work out, but that was based on an assumption I made before I even met him. I would need to not get my hopes up so high before the first date. It would be the downfall of my morale if I let the bad dates and disappointment get to me…
Follow @onegayatatimeWaste-a-Date
Posted by One Gay at a Time in Gay Dating on August 24, 2011
The time came for me to start going through the roster at a better pace. I was going to meet these guys for dates and slowly widdle the list down to a quality few. I started with the guys I’d been talking to the longest and worked my way up from there. I knew their patience was probably waning, so I figured it best to start there.
One specific torso had been talking to me for weeks. He was very busy when we first started chatting with a move to a new apartment. We chatted sporadically but never seemed to nail down plans.
I messaged him on Grindr and asked if he was available to go out that week. Surprisingly, he was available that Wednesday. We made plans to grab a drink after work and take it from there. He seemed like a really nice guy and was eager to meet me. His torso shot on Grindr also proved he had a great body!
I started off that Wednesday on the wrong foot. I left the house in the morning and got half way to the PATH before I realized I forgot a belt. It was going to be a long day of me constantly pulling up my pants. Not a good day.
When work ended, I decided to walk up to the neighborhood in which we were going to meet. It was about 20 blocks and 3 avenues — nothing I wouldn’t normally walk. However, it was much more uncomfortable without a belt to keep my pants up.
We met in front of his apartment. He came down and was dressed in what I describe as spunky gay — tight striped tank top and tight straight-leg shorts. I already knew he was not going to be my type. On top of the fact that he was about 5′ 6″ to my 6′ 2″. I wasn’t going to completely write him off, but it wasn’t looking promising.
We chatted while we walked to Therapy, a bar around the corner where we could grab a drink. He had a thick hispanic accent, and at times, it was difficult to understand him. This was going to be a long date. On second thought, this was going to be the shortest date ever!
We sat upstairs at a table and ordered a round of drinks. We had NOTHING in common. We went to completely different bars, we were into very different things, and he said he doesn’t really go out much. We couldn’t have been more polar opposites. The date was very awkward and uncomfortable, and I couldn’t wait to get out of there. He asked what I had planned for later. I told him my roommates and I make dinner for each other every Wednesday, and they would be very upset with me if I skipped. This was a complete lie, but it was my out to leave after we finished the first round of drinks.
I excused myself to go to the restroom. I felt like I wasted my evening on this wet noodle of a man, so I wanted to see if I could salvage the night. I texted the next guy in my Grindr roster to see what he was up to. I couldn’t wait for a response, so I told him I’d be up for hanging out if he was around. I walked back up to the table and asked my “date” if he was ready to go. I paid the tab, and we walked down the stairs. I complained about all the old men ogling me as I descended the staircase, but he told me he was turned on by it and got off on it, reestablishing our differences.
I walked him home, and we talked about future plans. He was aware I was going to Ocean City, Maryland with my family the following week. It was an excellent out to not have to call him again. He mentioned the possibility of grabbing a movie when I returned. I told him it was a possibility, but I knew it wasn’t. I would never call or text him again. I gave him a hug and said goodbye.
As I walked to Port Authority, I pulled out my phone to see if the second Grindr guy responded. He told me he was having dinner with a friend. I offered to hang around a little while longer if he would be available later, but he suggested we do something some other night. With that, I chalked the night up to an utter failure and hopped on the bus back to Hoboken.
When I got home, I pulled up Grindr. I messaged and was messaged by some quality guys to beef up the roster. I was back to my old self. But this list was filled with guys I wanted to date, not just have sex with. I was turning over a new leaf, or so I hoped…
Follow @onegayatatimePride Parade
Posted by One Gay at a Time in Gay Dating on July 25, 2011
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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