Posts Tagged closet
It was obvious things were strained between Smiles and I. For quite some time, our relationship was on the decline. He was distant, closed off, and not very engaged, and I wasn’t happy.
I tried to stick it out with him. I tried being patient and understanding. He was a good guy, and I could see there was a great guy under all this. But, I had reached my limit. I knew I deserved better. It was time to move on.
Wednesday passed without communication from Smiles, so I sent him a text in the middle of the afternoon. “It’s apparent you’re trying to put distance between us. Can you possibly find time to discuss things with me in person? Thanks,” I typed.
He responded ten minutes later with: “I can this weekend. I’m up at 5:30 and in bed at 12:30 and not a lot of time in between. This weekend will be a littler better but not much. I will make something work though.”
Wow! It was all I could do to restrain myself from responding, “Thanks for squeezing me in!” How could he!? After three months of dating, he couldn’t sacrifice a gym session to take the time to talk to me like a man. What a coward! It was completely disrespectful and painted a clear picture of Smiles’ true feeling for me. I doubt he ever truly cared for me. He simply enjoyed not being lonely.
I’m no one’s lap dog. I was back in the game. In my mind, we were all but broken up. It was inevitable. There was no coming back from this, especially since the relationship wasn’t the strongest to begin with. I’d been through yet another failed relationship with a man who simply wasn’t that into me. My confidence was pretty much shot. What was it about me they couldn’t seem to embrace? I’m not pathetic enough to say what was I doing wrong, but I also knew I may be something to turn these men off.
Regardless, I was back in the game. I needed to put myself back out there. Some people would argue I needed some time to be single and to figure myself out, but I know myself well enough. I didn’t need time to heal from this one. I did need to have some fun. It’d been a long time since I had passionate active sex, and I was hungry for it.
After my last breakup, I went wild over the summer. I hooked up with a lot of guys and expanded my sexual horizons. It was both a good thing and a bad thing. I didn’t want to go back to my old ways. I already learned how unfulfilling it was. There was no need to repeat old mistakes. But I wasn’t going to completely limit myself. I was “single” for all intents and purposes.
I had been talking to a Latino on Grindr for a bit of time. He seemed like a really nice guy, and we had a lot in common. Latinos aren’t really my type, but I’m an equal opportunity dater. N was of Latino background, and we got along well enough in the beginning.
We set a date for Thursday night to grab a drink at a local Hoboken bar, Trinity. He lived in neighboring Jersey City, and I convinced him to drive over since I didn’t have a car — It was a bit cold for the motorcycle.
He arrived before me, and found a spot in the corner of the bar. It was a good spot since we could talk without a large crowd of spectators. I shook his hand and introduced myself. He did the same, and I immediately recognized an accent of some sort. I asked him where he is from.
He told me of his roots in Venezuela and asked about my upbringing. I told him about my time growing up on the farm and how I came to live in the shadow of New York City.
We’d learned about our shared interest in volleyball and talked about that for some time. He was much more of an amateur than myself, but it was nice to find someone who had an interest in it.
We somehow got on the subject of coming out and families. He told me he’d been out of the closet since he was eighteen. He asked when I came out, and I proudly told him I was fresh and new. I told him I’d only come out about a year and a half ago. The expression of shock and disappointment on his face said it all. I knew the date was a failure. We chatted a bit about it, and I could tell he was not thrilled with the idea of my being a “new gay.” I tried to explain to him I wasn’t new. On the timeline, it may seem short, but I did a lot in that short period of time. I grew in leaps and bounds and had relationships of all sorts with varied men. For the first time in my life, I was trying to vaguely paint myself as a recovering whore.
When I think back about this, it was a dumb idea. If it was something that bothered him, I should have accepted that and moved on. I didn’t need to end the date then and there, but I shouldn’t have tried so hard so early to be what he wanted. I should have just been myself. This may be why I get involved with men that aren’t truly interested in me.
Somehow our discussion morphed into the topic of sex with women. He’d never been with a woman, but I have. I was just adding water to the fire with every sentence. We talked about the local gay dating ring, Grindr and the like. It was an interesting conversation, as we the entire date, but I doubted there would be a second.
When we finished that drink, I paid the bill and offered to walk him to his car. When we got there, I went in for a kiss. It was pretty bad. We pretty much crashed into each other with a forceful peck. I’m not sure why I kissed him if I wasn’t all that interested in him. I think it’s because I’ve been out of the game for some time, and I just felt like it was what I was supposed to do.
As I walked home, I checked my phone to find out one of the guys I’d met from Grindr months ago was moving to Hoboken. We’d been in touch sporadically since we originally met. He was just coming off a really rough breakup, and I was just starting things off with Smiles. I met him in hopes of making a new gay friend. I needed those as much as I needed lovers. He’d invited me to go out a few times, but I was never able to due to other plans. Now we’d be neighbors, and hanging out would be much easier. I was just what I needed to come back into my life at that moment.Follow @onegayatatime
Since my parents were staying with me to help me settle in after a move, I was relegated to the couch. Luckily, my roommate was out of town for work at the same time. Before he left, I asked if he minded if I use his bed.
It was working out quite well for me. Smiles offered me his bed Thursday night, and my roommate was nice enough to allow me to use his the other two nights my parents were staying with me.
We woke early that Saturday morning. We had a lot to do, so we got started with breakfast and began our day.
My mother finished unpacking the kitchen and washing dishes while my father and I got a jump on my closet. Since I had it designed and all the boards were cut to size, it should be a relatively simple project.
We were making good progress when I realized I needed to take a break so I could deliver the chicken soup I made for Smiles the night before. I texted him, “Morning babe. How you feeling? Gonna be home in a little bit? Gonna swing by and drop something off for you. :).” He was awake and responded relatively quickly: “Going to crawl over to see the doctor, then straight home. Should be back about 12:00.”
I asked him how he was feeling since he was in surgery only a few hours earlier. “OK. Sore, but can move,” he responded. “Will you bring over Tylenol? I can’t go out again to get some, and I need it for swelling,” he asked. I was more than happy to be able to help him. I felt guilty I wasn’t there when he woke up from surgery. I originally planned to, but with the move, it became difficult. Luckily, one of his other friends was able to be there.
SH*T! I didn’t want her to beat me there with soup. Chances are she made chicken soup too, because who makes anything else when someone is sick or recovering. The race was on. I needed to get there first. I didn’t want to be the superfluous soup. I wanted to be the primary.
I quickly packed up the soup and added some of the brownies my dad made. I ran down the stairs and hopped on the bike. I was off into the tunnel. It would take me only fifteen minutes to get to his apartment. Hopefully I would beat her there!
When I buzzed at his door, his friend answered. DAMNIT! She beat me. I was so disappointed. She came down to let me in since the buzzer wasn’t working. We chatted while we descended the stairs about how we hadn’t seen each other since the Hamptons for the film festival.
When I walked in the door, Smiles was sitting on the couch eating a bowl of soup. I noticed the take-out containers on the counter and realized she didn’t make soup. She’d only brought him soup for lunch.
I showed Smiles the large Rubbermaid of soup and placed it in his fridge. I also told him about the brownies, and he asked me to bring them to him now.
I came into the living room and gave Smiles a kiss. I sat while Smiles and his friend continued their conversation about work. I noticed a very large bouquet of flowers by his bedside and eucalyptus next to the couch in a vase. The arrangement was gorgeous, and I immediately felt guilty and outdone. I know it wasn’t a competition over who cared more about him, but in my warped mind, it was. (I later learned he bought the flowers himself before the surgery since he’d be so homebound).
While sitting and talking, another friend arrived. I was also taking every opportunity to wait on Smiles. I gave him the Tylenol, got him water and cleared his dishes. I learned he was the one who brought Smiles home from the hospital. We’d met before, so I said hi. The four of us sat and chatted a bit about a funny scenario involving Smiles, his straight friend and a girl from the night before.
After a bit, he had to be on his way. The conversation changed from Smiles’ movie project to a new work project he was getting into. I moved across the room to help massage a knot out of Smiles’ back. I was crouching next to the couch in an uncomfortable position, so when I couldn’t take it anymore, I made a move back across the room. Smiles then moved over on the couch and asked me to continue. I was happy to be doting on my man.
The time came where I ha to get back to my parents and moving in. I already stayed past the time I told my parents I’d be back. I’d been waiting for the opportune time to head out. I was under the impression his friend/coworker was going to leave shortly, and I wanted a little alone time with Smiles. When that didn’t happen, I had to bounce.
I kissed him goodbye and told him I’d talk to him later as I made my way out.
When I got home, later in the day, I received a text from him. “Thank you for coming over and making soup. Yay.” I told him I was glad to see he was okay and to think nothing of the soup. “Ya know, those brownies aren’t going to make it to tomorrow. Haha,” he added. We joked about what it might do to his system.
I was happy to see him in good sorts and glad he was surrounded by friends. I was also happy I got to show him how much I cared about him, even though I was insanely busy getting settled in my new apartment. He’s a good man, and he deserves special treatment every once in a while.Follow @onegayatatime
If anything, it was intensified by the idea of abstaining from sex for quite some time since Smiles would be recovering from his appendectomy.
My alarm went off at 9:00am, and I knew I’d have to head home in a timely fashion or deal with my parents nagging. We cuddled in bed for some time, and I made some effort to seduce Smiles, but his head was elsewhere. I’m sure he was still working himself up over his surgery in a few hours.
I realized it was time to make my way home, and he told me his plans for the morning before his surgery. He wanted to move some of the last few boxes over to storage before he went under the knife. He knew he would be apartment bound for at least a week, and he wouldn’t be able to lift the boxes with his stitches. I, however, knew there was no way in hell he was going to accomplish that in the time he had before heading to the hospital.
I arrived home and my parents and I made breakfast. We mapped out our plan for the day. We had a lot of places to go — Lowes, Ikea, West Elm, The Container Store… It was going to be a long productive day.
My father and I went over the plans for the closet one more time to make sure our math was correct before going to Lowes for custom cut boards to build shelves and clothes hanging bars.
We worked on a few things around the apartment to get unpacked and settled before we began the day’s errands. I also had to make a trek to CVS to get some supplies to take care of my ankle. Once we got my apartment in decent shape, we made our rounds. This took up a majority of the day.
Smiles was supposed to be done surgery around 4:00/4:30. It was 5:00 and I still hadn’t heard from him. I was starting to worry.
When we realized we weren’t going to be home in time for a decent dinner, we decided to have the turkey the following day for lunch instead of dinner that night. We settled on Swedish meatballs from Ikea instead (We grabbed them after many friends recommended them, but I recommend you stay away from them!).
That night, my father and I assembled what we could to prepare for the work we needed to do the following day. It was late, so we couldn’t begin on the closet just yet.
I took the opportunity to work on my other side project. I wanted to make Smiles chicken soup since I knew he wouldn’t be able to make it out to provide for himself and wasn’t going to be cooking. If you can’t tell, I love taking care of the people I care about. It makes me happy and makes me feel needed. I wonder if I give too much sometimes, but then I reassure myself that I’d rather that than being incredibly selfish. I also think it makes up for the times I am selfish, which can be quite often.
While making the soup, I finally told my parents of my plan to visit Smiles the following afternoon since I was unable to help bring him home from the hospital that day.
I put a lot of love into that soup. It was my way of showing him how much I cared about him, and I couldn’t wait to deliver that appreciation.Follow @onegayatatime
Moving to a new apartment is both exciting and strenuous. For me, anything new is stimulating, but the arduous task of physically moving is exhausting. I needed to call in reinforcements.
Before my big move, I enlisted the help of my parents. When I broached the subject with them, my mother pointed out their physical inability to help my move. She volunteered them to come help me pack or unpack, but they were not lifting any boxes. I would never even consider the idea since neither of them are spring chickens.
I preferred they help me unpack because I would be able to pack over a long period of time, but I would need to have my apartment set up quickly for my holiday party. I also had a few major alterations I wanted to implement in the new place. I design a closet I would need to build to fit all my clothes. (This is where my inner gay comes screaming out).
They were set to arrive Thursday night in time to come watch my sister and I play in our weekly volleyball league. They were going to stay through the weekend, so my mother made lasagna and was bringing a turkey. We planned to go to the gym for our match and then have a late night dinner after.
The night before, Smiles offered for me to stay with him Thursday night since he knew my parents were staying with me. I graciously accepted since it would save me from sleeping on the couch when I gave up my bed for my parents. I thought it was really sweet of Smiles to notice that and offer a solution. He was also going into surgery the next day. While I was comforting him and put on a brave face since he was so worked up about it, I am always slightly concerned any time someone goes under the knife, especially when they’re being put under. I care a great deal about him, so I was thrilled to sleep with him the night before surgery.
My parents have seen my sister play volleyball in college, but had never seen me play. I was excited for them to be there. However, I was still exhausted. I could barely keep my eyelids open, as they felt like sandpaper, and I could barely lift my arms. We were doing fairly well, when out of nowhere, I came down on the side of my ankle after a hit. I knew as I was coming down to the floor it was a bad sprain. I’d sprained both ankles many times before running cross-country and playing tennis in high school. I was done.
I moved over to the bleachers to elevate my ankle and ice while my team finished out the matches. My mother took the opportunity to point out that I should have taken the night off. A sprained ankle couldn’t have come at a worse time. I still had a lot I needed to do that weekend. The only thing that could have made it worse was if it came the night before the big move.
My team fared well without me, and they all came over to console me after they finished. The sprain was bad, but I was able to walk on it. This wasn’t my first rodeo. I knew exactly what I was in for.
When I got home, my mother, who teaches athletic training to high school students, wrapped my ankle. I hadn’t told my parents yet, but I was still planning to ride into the city and spend the night in Smiles’ bed.
As we were waiting for the lasagna to heat up in the oven, I proposed my sleeping situation to them. They didn’t seem phased by it, but pointed out that I needed to be home in the morning at a reasonable hour. I told them about his surgery and how I would have to leave earlier regardless, but I wasn’t waking up until 9:00 anyway.
I was leery about the ride into the city. When I sprained my ankle, all I could think about was if it would limit my ability to shift gears on my motorcycle to ride into the city to Smiles’ bed. Luckily, I was still able to do so after wrapping it.
Smiles called to see when I would be coming into the city, and I told him I would arrive around midnight after we finished eating.
I got my parents settled, threw on sweats to head into the city and was on my way.
When I arrived, Smiles told me how long he had to go without eating or drinking anything, even water. He was a little worked up, so I did my best to calm his nerves. I told him to concentrate on his hot doctor instead. I was really hoping for one last throw down in the sheets since I knew he’d be out of commission for quite some time, but since it was so late, that wasn’t in the cards. Instead, after chatting a little bit about my ankle and his surgery, we dozed off in each other’s arms.Follow @onegayatatime
On Labor Day, we began our journey home early in the morning. It was a fun week in Martha’s Vineyard. It wasn’t quite the same as other years. Outside my dalliances, the week seemed very tame. I wondered if it was because some of the group are now paired up, or if it was because we are getting older. Either way it was a great way to end the summer, even if I’m not exactly proud of how I behaved this summer.
I spent the five and a half hour ride in the back of the car. While I was on the island I found a guy on Grindr who lives on the mainland. I tried my hardest to get him to come visit for dinner/drinks/more, but no bites. I talked to him the entire ride home, but that’s another post for another day.
I knew I’d arrive home mid-afternoon. I didn’t want to waste the day unpacking and lounging in front of the TV, so I tried to lay some groundwork for an evening date with some of the candidates still on the roster. When none of them replied, I was quite disappointed — And, horny. After chatting and exchanging pictures with my Massachusetts mainlander and other random Grindr men I encountered on the road home, I was in the mood for some action. I didn’t want to pull in another random from Grindr or adam4adam.com. I was trying to curb sex with strangers. I did however have two friends with benefits still in my back pocket. They were itching to hop in the sack with me as much, if not more than I was with them. They both messaged me numerous times while I was in Martha’s Vineyard to inquire about my return home.
I called up Closet Guy and told him to come over. He jumped at the opportunity, but needed to run home and shower before he could come over. And, just my luck, one of the guys on my roster took that moment to respond about meeting up that evening. He had been on the roster for MONTHS. He was one of the first guys I talked to, and we had been trying to meet up ever since. I wasn’t going to turn down the opportunity to finally meet up, but I also had to deal with Closet. So I did what any horny, selfish guy would do — I scheduled both back-to-back. I told Closet to hurry because I needed to go into the city to meet up with a coworker to discuss everything I missed over the week before heading back the next morning. It was perfect. He would come over, have sex and leave without any of the post sex chatter.
(Warning: The following may be too graphic for some) When he arrived, I brought him straight to my bedroom. He stripped, and I threw him down on the bed. We made out like we hadn’t seen each other in months. Hands all over each other. It wasn’t long before he was begging for me to be inside him. He hopped on top of me and went to town. It was just what I needed after a long car ride. Shortly after, I rolled him over and we tried a few other positions, ending with him on his back. That’s when things got slightly messy. It’s always unfortunate when that happens, but it happens. It’s the nature of the beast. It’s quite a mood killer, but I always try to be dignified about it. I’m sure it was a learning experience for him, as I was the only one to penetrate him. I asked him if he wanted to move things to the shower and conveniently laid the hand towel I had at my bedside over the spot on my comforter as to not draw attention and embarrass him further.
Once in the shower, we lathered up and continued the fun until we were both fully satisfied. It actually worked out quite well because I love shower sex, and I needed to shower before heading into the city to meet the long-haired hunk I texted earlier. It was both fun and a time saver.
We toweled off and got dressed. I kissed him goodbye at the door and continued to get ready for my date. I thought things would change when I arrived home from vacation. I thought I would get back to my old self where I could only have sex with someone I truly had feelings for, but I was wrong…Follow @onegayatatime