Posts Tagged couch
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 @onegayatatimeChicken Soup for the Surgical Soul
Posted by One Gay at a Time in Gay Dating on January 5, 2012
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.
I sent him a text letting him know I was on my way, and he responded, “OK. See you in a bit. [My friend] is stopping by to bring me soup :).”
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 @onegayatatimeMom & Dad to the Rescue
Posted by One Gay at a Time in Gay Dating on January 3, 2012
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 @onegayatatimePrince Charming Pt 2
Posted by One Gay at a Time in Gay Dating on October 3, 2011
Ever since my first date with Prince Charming, I have been trying to see him again. With the exception of being unavailable often because of his job as a flight attendant (soon to be pilot), he was everything I was looking for in a man. I thought about him often, but tried to curb my excitement for fear I would find myself disappointed.
We spoke on the phone for an extended period of time while I was in Martha’s Vineyard to try to plan a time we could get together. It was nice to get to hear the sound of his voice again. He told me his upcoming schedule and planned to get together the Wednesday after my return from vacation. He would be coming off a long working weekend in Scottland Tuesday evening.
When Tuesday rolled around, I started to become worried about the potential for Wednesday. I was back to work and knew the full scope of work laid out for the week. We had a pitch that Friday that would lead to me traveling to Memphis Thursday afternoon. I knew my Wednesday night was going to be stolen by work. Tuesday when he landed, he sent me a text message. I near lept for joy. I was thrilled he reached out to me. I was on his mind. I texted him back on my walk home from work. It was pouring outside, but I still had a smile on my face.
I took the opportunity to warn him I possibly would be unable to meet Wednesday. I asked him what the chances were I could see him that night instead. I knew he was tired from the long trans-Atlantic flight, so I proposed ordering take-out and a movie on the couch, even though I owed him a home-cooked meal from scratch. It was already 7:00, and I had no time to plan out and cook a meal to the extent I would need to impress him after his spectacular creation for me.
Surprisingly, he bit. Once I explained both my roommates would be out of the apartment, he agreed to come over. I was shocked at how little convincing he needed after telling me how exhausting that flight is. He said he would have to shower and get ready to come by. He was moving at a snail’s pace after waking up from a nap and apologized for such. He asked for my understanding. I told him to take whatever time he needed, as long as it meant he was coming over. I was literally blissfully walking through puddles as I texted back to him. I didn’t care what was going on around me. I had a smile from ear to ear, and two very wet shoes.
When I got home, I cleaned my room and showered. He asked me to find a good Italian restaurant to order from. I called my Italian ex-roommate to ask which one he preferred since I respected his taste in Italian cuisine. I set the menu on the counter and waited for him to call. I instructed him to pull up in front of my apartment, and I would hop in the car to help him find a parking space. He already resented Hoboken and its lack of parking. Anything I could do to offset that would work in my favor.
He drove around for quite a while before finally calling me. It was a downpour outside, so parking was even more at a premium. He pulled up and I hopped in the car. I leaned across the car and gave him a kiss. We drove around for twenty minutes without finding a single space that wasn’t flooded out. He said the only other option was to go to his place, but he would have to drive me home late at night because his roommate (the one that isn’t his ex) was coming home at 5:00am. I didn’t question it at the time, but a huge red flag went off in my head. Why did it matter if his roommate came home? It had to have something to do with living with his ex. When he brought me over to his apartment the fist time, no one else was home. He was hiding something, even if he told me in full disclosure he lived with his exboyfriend who he was separated from. At that point, I suggested he drive home and take a cab to my apartment, but he was ready to give up.
He asked me to give him credit for the effort, but I wasn’t satiated. I wanted to spend time with him. He made me happy. The parking situation was ruining my night. It had nothing to do with not getting sex. I just wanted to spend time getting to know him.
He drove back to my apartment and dropped me off. I gave him a few kisses and went on my way. I walked back into the apartment like a defeated soldier. We agreed to try for the following evening, but I had very low expectations for that. It was late, and I was starving. I found some frozen food in the freezer that was easy to heat up, and I sat on the couch for the remainder of the evening alone with the TV remote.
The following evening, I found out I would not be at work that late. I texted him immediately, only to find he was unable to come over. He had an early training flight the next morning. We agreed to shoot for the following Tuesday to meet up again. From that moment on, I resolved myself to not get my hopes up. The new discovery about the sneaking around his roommates did not bode well for progress between us.
The following Monday, I sent him a text asking if I would get to see him. After getting no response, on Tuesday I followed up with a phone call but still didn’t receive a response. When Friday came along, and he signed on Grindr, I messaged him to ask if he was avoiding me. I also sent a text, should he not get my Grindr message. I wasn’t going to stalk him, but I was shocked he would treat me like this after telling me how much he enjoyed my company. He finally responded, “I am going through some things with my ex, and I don’t want to drag anyone into the middle of it.” I immediately replied, “I have to respect that, but I have to tell you, I’m very disappointed.” He texted back, “I understand and apologize.” That wasn’t an acceptable apology for ignoring me. I thought he was different and would treat me with respect. If he told me that instead of avoiding me, I would have had to accept it and move on. It’s just the games I don’t appreciate.
Who knows if it really was his ex or if he just lost interest in me. I will never know. I followed up with a text saying, “That doesn’t mean we can’t grab a friendly drink sometime at the bar. Don’t be a stranger.” I still needed friends as much as I needed a lover. I was willing to accept that level with him since I thought he was such a good guy. However, he must feel differently. I haven’t heard from him since…
Follow @onegayatatimeVisit From the Closet
Posted by One Gay at a Time in Gay Dating on September 19, 2011
As I watched my roster shink over the summer, I began to revisit old friends. Adam4adam.com came back into my daily routine. I noticed I received a message from a 28 year-old guy who was still in the closet. His profile read: “Just lookin around, new to hookin up with guys and not out at all, so not really sure where I’m at right now. I do know I’m definitely extremely discreet and expect the same. Other than that, just playin it by ear.”
I knew this guy was going to be a delicate dance. His picture looked pretty good, and I was interested, so I reached back out to him. We exchanged a few emails about our current situations and talked about how fresh we both were in the gay world. I think that’s what he was looking for. Throughout every conversation we had, he stressed his need for discretion. I explained, “I spent 26 years in the closet. If anyone knows discretion, it’s me.”
We never made any plans during any of our initial conversations, but on a random Friday night, I found myself not interested in going to the bar. I had the apartment to myself, and I was bored so I hopped on a4a to check my messages. He happened to be online at the time, and I happened to be very horny, so I told him to come by. He had to shower and drive to Hoboken, but he was game.
This wasn’t my first rodeo. I was finally comfortable with these situations (not that that’s a good thing), and I realized I didn’t need to put in so much effort. When he arrived, I was sitting on the couch in gym shorts and a tank watching Jurassic Park. I poured us both a drink, and he joined me on the couch. We had casual conversation for a bit. Surprisingly, he made the first move. He put his hand on my leg when we were talking and left it there. As the conversation progressed, we stopped paying attention to the movie and began making out on the couch. Shortly thereafter, I pulled him over so he was straddling my lap, and we began an intense and fun make-out session.
When things got heated, and we were down to our boxers, I took his hand and led him to my bedroom. The boxers came off and the real fun began. We both had fun exploring the other’s body. He certainly was no Adonis, but he had a tight body nonetheless. I was enjoying myself, and he seemed to be as well.
At one point, he asked if I wanted to attempt penetration, but added a big disclaimer about his complete lack of experience in that realm. He was skeptical it was actually going to happen, and because of his comment, I knew it wasn’t. If that was going to be his first time, it certainly would take more prep. Five seconds after my initial approach, our suspicions were correct. He apologized, as he did a lot in bed. He was embarrassed by his lack of experience, but I actually found the role of teacher satisfying. I wasn’t the first guy he slept with, but I also wasn’t at the end of a long list, that’s for sure.
I often think back to everything I learned from Broadway and how absolutely patient he was with me from the start. I always try to embody that when dealing with someone new to the gay world, both in the bedroom and out.
When we realized penetration wasn’t going to work, we moved back to foreplay. After we both finished, we cleaned up and laid next to each other talking. I wasn’t thrilled with this. I wanted to have sex, not a long dialogue about being a closeted gay. However, I’d never be so rude as to say that or scoot him out the door. He was fresh, and I needed to be gentle with the delicate situation. I was also trying to find someone I could call on regularly for sex instead of random new guys all the time, so I didn’t want to do anything to mess this up. We talked for a half hour before he realized how long we’d been chatting. We got dressed and went back out to the couch to watch TV.
He sat down and I laid my head in his lap. It felt very comfortable, and I certainly didn’t mind that. He pet my head while we talked and watched TV. Eventually I fell asleep in his lap until he woke me to tell me he was heading home. I apologized for dozing off on him, but he was actually quite delighted it happened. I walked him to the door and kissed him goodbye.
He was a really down-to-earth guy and a big sweetheart. I liked him, but not enough to want to date him. And, the whole still in the closet thing was not something I wanted in a relationship.
Going forward, I was still searching for my unicorn, but in the meantime, he would become my go to on those lonely horny nights…
Follow @onegayatatimeUnexpected Lovin’
Posted by One Gay at a Time in Gay Dating on September 14, 2011
All week long, I was still reeling from my date with Prince Charming. He was really everything I was looking for in a man. Mature, driven, sexy, interesting, masculine… the list goes on. However, I couldn’t limit myself to just him. I needed a distraction or I would end up driving him away. Pillow seemed to have fallen by the wayside. Not sure what went wrong there, but I wasn’t going to put any more effort into chasing him down. After coffee with the midtown trainer, I realized the potential we had for compatibility. He seemed like a really great guy. On top of that, he was texting me asking when we were going to finally go out again, which is always a good sign. Apparently I made a good first impression.
We agreed to go out for dinner that Wednesday. He chose an Italian restaurant, Il Melagrano in the neighborhood between his gym and apartment. When I arrived, he was already sitting at a cozy table at the back of the establishment. I apologized for being slightly tardy, and we got to it.
We chatted a bit about what we were going to order, and then turned the conversation to our days so far. He had a very busy morning, while I had a day mainly filled with surfing the internet. When that conversation got stale, I brought the conversation back to something we spoke about on our first “date” — His skydiving trip. He was very excited, and we joked about all the possibilities of things going wrong and what he could do about it. When age came up, I could see he was uncomfortable with how much younger I was — Seven years. I told him not to think about it and to judge me on my actions and words and not my years on the planet. We changed topics of conversation periodically from working out, to work attire, to the Tough Mudder, to Fire Island, his dog and so on…
When our meal arrived, we continued the conversation. I feel as if I was doing a lot of the talking because he finished his food much sooner than I. When I realized this, I started asking more questions and did less of the talking myself. The conversation flowed well over our single glasses of wine, but it wasn’t 100% fluid. At one point during the conversation he mentioned his studio apartment: “Well, you’ll see it some day when it’s not a complete mess.” It was nice to hear, because it showed promise of another date and signaled to me he was a gentleman.
After coffee and desert, I walked him home. The conversation on the walk was much more jovial and relaxed. I felt very at ease with him. When we got to his apartment, I was ready to say goodbye on the street, but he invited me in to his lobby. We started making out and things began to get heavy. He backed himself up against the wall and pulled me in closer. His hands were all over my body, including down my pants, and I was seconds away from him having my shirt completely off. At that point, he paused long enough to hit the elevator button, signaling an invitation upstairs.
From the look of him, he was tipsy off the one drink we had at dinner. I wasn’t expecting to move this fast, so I was a little caught off-guard. I liked this guy and debated if I should be doing this with him already, but I just went with the flow like I usually do. When we entered the apartment, I got to meet his dog. She was very cute and friendly. He put her in the bathroom so she wouldn’t bother us while we got busy.
Seconds after I sat on the couch, he ripped my shirt off. At least I knew he was attracted to my body. Him being a personal trainer, I was self-conscious about my body. His was nothing short of spectacular, so I was hoping I’d live up to his standards.
We moved things to the bed, and both of us had our pants around our ankles. We were doing some heavy petting and grinding. It was a good time, but once again, I was having second thoughts about this. After some more fooling around, he finished. I wasn’t able to join in the fun as my head was a bit distracted. And then, on top of that, I was worried he’d wonder if there was something wrong with me or if I wasn’t attracted to him. Neither was the case. It’s just something that has always been adversely affected by mental distraction.
While he went to clean up, I began to put my pants back on. He already established he was getting up around 5:00am to go for a run and had a 6:00am client. I knew he wouldn’t want me to linger for small-talk. He came back and sat next to me with the dog at our feet. She already took a shining to me after I gave her an extensive belly rub, but when he went to give me a kiss, she started making noise. At this point, he made a game of it and started testing her, scolding her between every kiss until she didn’t make a sound.
At that, I gathered my things and said goodbye with a kiss. I walked down to Port Authority to take the bus home. Normally, my MO. was to text immediately and tell him how much I enjoyed the date, but this time I waited to see if he texted me the next day to see if he was interested, especially since the night didn’t end exactly smoothly. Only time would tell…
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