Posts Tagged drunk
Winding Down
Posted by One Gay at a Time in Gay Dating on April 17, 2012
Although things didn’t exactly end the way I would have hoped, I had a really great time with my new uptown Grindr friend. He was a very down-to-earth, sexy man whose body I found irresistible.
I made my way home on my motorcycle only to find my apartment full of my friends and my roommates’ friends. They apparently noticed my Irish exit, but I was shocked to find none of them texted me to find out where I’d gone. They didn’t seem to care much. They were all drunk and about to smoke.
I put my helmet in my room and joined in the fun. D pulled me aside and asked if I’d gone to hook up, and I didn’t lie. I nodded my head in agreement, and he said, “I knew it!” with a smile.
My roommate immediately mentioned breaking my glass planter that sits in the window, but failed to apologize for the act. She simply pushed it into a pile, plants and all, and left it there on the floor. After sitting in the room a solid ten minutes, my friend K announces, “Where’s [One Gay At A Time]?” I responded, “Really K! How many have you had!?” We all laughed.
The previous night, I talked to a guy on OKCupid who was quite an athlete. He seemed like a really fun guy, and I was anxious to meet him. We’d emailed a few times back and forth, and I learned he would be coming to Hoboken for the festivities in the evening. Ironically enough, he would be in the apartment across the street. The same apartment my roommate and I scoped out on numerous occasions, noticing a gay couple lives there. I texted him to see if he was there, but he told me he decided to stay home after not feeling well.
This, of course turned my attention to the apartment across the way. My roommate and I had scoped out this apartment many times starting on New Year’s Eve when we presumed two mo’s lived there. This night, they were having a party. We noticed many men, and we tried to make a sign with a sharpie and the inside of a paper bag. It was no use. Anyone’s attention that was looking out the window was drawn to our neighbors upstairs. They too were having a raucous party.
I decided to use technology to find a way to make friends with the mo’s across the street. I pulled up Grindr and tried to find anyone very close. When I finally got in touch with someone nearby and asked him if they were at that address, I came to learn that person had left the party already. I made many more futile attempts to reach out to the party. A few of us watched with curiosity when people moved into the bedroom, but nothing exciting happened. Our front window became a version of “Rear Window.”
When I grew tired of my new entertainment, I made my way to bed. It was a long day, but a fun day. I was beat.
The next day, I returned the favor of a friend for helping me move. I rode my motorcycle over to his new apartment and dug in moving bags and boxes. When we drove to his old place, I realized we were in the same neighborhood as Indiana Jones lived. I pulled out my phone and texted him to see if he was around. It’d been months since I last saw him, and I was anxious to see him again. We were due for a catch-up. I didn’t hear back from him that day, but I wouldn’t give up at that.
Follow @onegayatatimeWhere’d He Go?
Posted by One Gay at a Time in Gay Dating on April 16, 2012
FraI already started my morning off with a little frisky visit and some well appreciated service. It was time to join the real festivities.
I walked out into my kitchen to find my roommate with all her college friends and my other roommate with his girlfriend. I thought I pulled a fast one on all of them sneaking my visitor in the back door, but I was wrong. My male roommate saw him come in. He and his girlfriend questioned me on it, and I was completely honest with what happened. They were fascinated by how transactional it was. They couldn’t believe it, and his girl gave me a high-five.
I celebrated myself with a nice cold beer from the fridge. It was already 1:00 and I was well behind the rest of Hoboken. Before I finished my shower, I had four down. That would be enough to scratch the surface.
I got dressed and convinced my roommate and his girlfriend to come with me to a friend’s apartment. She was having her annual St. Patty’s Day bash. I was meeting D and K there as well. I was happy D was going to be in town. Since his car got a flat, he wouldn’t be visiting his girlfriend in Philly.
When I got there, the party was already well underway. I sat on the arm of the couch and conversed with my friends. I just took in the scene. For some reason, I wasn’t really feeling St. Patty’s Day this year like years passed. I didn’t feel the need to get sloppy drunk.
Of course, since my bladder has shrunk since college, I had to go to the bathroom. Since I was somewhat bored at the party, I was chatting with a sexy man I’d been chatting with for some time on Grindr. We’d talked about getting together so many times, but never did. Things were getting very flirtatious and leading toward an afternoon hookup. When I went to the bathroom, he suggested I come over. I took the opportunity to sneak out the door when I finished in the restroom instead of returning to the party. I’m sure it was just a matter of time before my friends realized I’d gone, but it wouldn’t be immediate.
I wasn’t even slightly drunk. I’d been anxious to see this guy for some time. I wasn’t about to let the opportunity pass. I quickly walked home, grabbed my helmet, hopped on my motorcycle and sped off uptown. Before I left the party, my Grindr friend asked me how I felt about glory holes. I told him I’d never used one before. When he sent me a picture of a sheet with a hole cut in it and a caption reading, “How would you feel about this?” I became excited. He told me he’d leave the door unlocked. I was to walk in, come to the sheet, unzip and let him take care of the rest.
Warning: The following may be too graphic for some. As I entered, I noticed how nice his place was. I was a little shocked. I walked straight to the sheet hanging in the bathroom door. I hadn’t even fully unzipped before he reached his hand around the sheet and began. It felt amazing! He continued for some time before I reached my hand around the sheet and began to stroke the back of his head. I could feel him, but I couldn’t see him. Finally, my curiosity got the best of me, and I just pushed the sheet to the side. I wanted to see him. He was very attractive in his pictures and even more so in person. On top of that, the only thing he was wearing was work boots.
After a little more time, he turned around and I began grinding myself against his backside. He was extremely hot and he knew how to use his body. I reached around and used my hand to pleasure him as well. He was VERY gifted. I hadn’t felt one like that since my friend in San Francisco.
He then requested we move things to the couch. I sat down, and he straddled my lap. It didn’t take long before he finished all over my chest and without warning. I had no idea it was coming. I tried to finish as well, but it was no use. Between my morning visit and the few beers I had, I sat there for quite some time without climaxing. He was so hot and he tried everything to help me finish, but it was no use. I gave up and apologized. I could tell he was very disappointed. He blamed the drinking, and I concurred that was to fault.
As he stood in front of me, I took all of him in. He had a spectacular body, and I let him know it. I asked him about his workout routine, and he told me he didn’t since his heart attack. He elaborated and told me it was no big deal, but I was a little worried. I could only think of him keeling over in front of me.
We chatted a little bit more while I got dressed and looked around a bit. He told me he had a roommate, but he wasn’t home. Something didn’t quite line up, but for some reason, I was buying the story. While we chatted, he stood in front of me in just his boots with his large gifts swinging back and forth. He was very proud of them as well. He put sweatpants on so he could walk the dog, and I could see his large bulge. I commented on it, and he commented how he loved how people would check it out, especially the guys with their girlfriends. I was so turned on. I also learned he managed a bar in the city, and he told me I should hit it up sometime.
We talked about meeting up again sometime soon. We both thought the other was thoroughly sexy and wanted a repeat. He was particularly looking for a sequel since he didn’t get a happy ending from our first encounter.
I said goodbye and made my way back downtown to my apartment…
Follow @onegayatatimeHard Candle Shell
Posted by One Gay at a Time in Gay Dating on March 28, 2012
After realizing PR wasn’t the one for me, I was ready to move on. I liked him a lot, but I felt we’d be sacrificing ourselves to stay together, and that’s not fair to either of us.
I had been talking to a cutie with glasses on OKCupid for a little while before finally asking him for his number and ultimately to go out for a drink.
Wednesday night after work, we made plans to meet down near his neighborhood for some cocktails. I let him pick the place, and he told me where to meet him. When I arrived to the corner where he was, he immediately came off as shy. We shook hands and introduced ourselves, which always feels forced and awkward for me. I sometimes wonder if a hug may be more appropriate considering we’re about to embark on a date, but I never have the guts to go in for it from the start.
We walked towards the bar he had in mind while we struggled to make small talk. I asked him about his day and how work was. In turn he asked the same questions, and I detailed my boring day at the office.
Finally, we arrived at the establishment, The Dove Parlour and took our seats on two bar stools on the corner of the bar. We ordered our drinks and returned to our awkwardly forced conversation. Again, we returned to the topic of work. Every question I asked him was returned with a quick short response. It was like pulling teeth to keep the conversation going. There were long periods of silence I wasn’t sure how to deal with.
When we finished our second drink, the bartender approached and asked if we’d like another. This is where I failed miserably. This is why I’m too nice. I defaulted to him, expecting him to have felt as awkward as I did, but instead, he asked for another round. I was shocked. Did he think this date was going well? How could he?
I sat there and struggled to find a subject to continue to talk about over the next round of drinks. I was ready to leave, but I felt I’d be rude. I was in for another night of wasting my own time due to my lack of confidence to say, “I’m sorry, but I think I’m going to go.”
I ended up staying for two more rounds — Four in total. Things were slowly improving. As the drinks passed his lips more words finally came out the opposite direction. He was finally starting to hold a real conversation. The topics were nothing exciting, but at least it was bearable.
By the end of our fourth round, he wanted a kiss. He moved in to make a move, and I allowed it. It’d been a while since a man kissed me, but I wasn’t entirely weak in the knees from it. He really did have soft lips and was a good kisser, but that didn’t negate the fact that our date was not going well.
He beckoned me to change stools so we weren’t straddling the corner. He wanted me to be closer. At this point, he wanted a makeout session. I wasn’t having any of that. I don’t make out in bars (not unless I’m hammered and don’t know any better, and the last time I did that was with a woman).
I told him I thought it was bad manners to make out at the bar. I pointed out how it always turns into a spectacle, especially when it’s two men kissing each other. He pointed out the lack of people in the bar and asked if I wasn’t comfortable with my sexuality in public. I pointed out if he was a woman, I’d feel the same way. There’s never a need to make out at the bar. Take it outside. This was going to be a point we differed on, because he did not stop attempting to convince me to lock lips. This is when I basically told him to back off. It wasn’t going to happen.
When we were ready to leave, he decided to walk me to the PATH — The complete opposite direction of his apartment. He was going to take a cab home and mentioned something about his supervisor paying for it.
When we got to the PATH station, he took the opportunity to pin me against the fence so he could have his makeout session. Again, I’m too nice and too accommodating, but at least he was a good kisser. It was an amazing change of pace from the night before, in which my “date” tried to eat my face.
Finally, I pulled back and said goodbye. He mentioned his desire to meet again in the near future, and I left that door open for possibility (seeing the too nice trend beginning here). When I got to the other side of the Hudson, I had a text waiting for me: “In spite of being terrified, I had a really good time! Hope to see you soon!” I simply responded, “Terrified?” “Oh, I have panic attacks before dates,” he added.
I didn’t respond, but in the morning, I had another text waiting for me: “Those French Lavenders (the drinks he was having) pack a punch. Sorry :/” I simply put his mind at ease and said, “No worries.” That would be the last I would hear from him. I was happy to skip all the awkward texts and requests. He simply took the hint I wasn’t interested and moved on…
Follow @onegayatatimeMy Week with PR
Posted by One Gay at a Time in Gay Dating on March 23, 2012
Things between PR and I seemed to be something of a fairy tale. We’d met months earlier on Grindr after he had a very rough breakup, and I was just getting my relationship off the ground with Smiles. He temporarily moved a few blocks from me, and after a night out as friends, we’ve been spending a lot of time together as love interests.
After our night out to the movies and dinner, PR spent the night once again. Why should he sleep on a pull-out when he could be sharing a California King with me. I got ready for work, and he made his way home to figure out his day. He was on-call that day, but ended up not having to go into work. Instead, he went shopping with his mother.
When he returned to Hoboken Wednesday night, he came over to hang out. We watched TV in each other’s arms on the couch and he spent the night once again. Things were getting hot and heavy with us, and fast. We still hadn’t had “sex’ in the traditional penetration sense of the word, but we were fully enjoying each other’s company.
Thursday night I have volleyball. This was good because it offered a natural break for us. I couldn’t believe he wasn’t tired of me yet. We’d been spending A LOT of time together, and I’m not always the easiest to be around. I was happy to have the time apart – Not because I didn’t want to see him, but more so because it made me look forward to seeing him again that much more.
When I got home from volleyball, he started texting me. We texted about the shows we were watching until he added, “So, I miss you.” I quickly replied, “Stop being so adorable. You know I can’t resist it!” And then he called it spot on. I love how real and upfront he is about things. “Is today resist each other day? If you need a break, I understand. I find you intoxicating in the best sense — Like happy,” he texted. I told him I did not need a break, and I in fact did miss him. But I also told him I wanted to make sure we didn’t tire of each other. He told me he was having a rough day. He heard back about a job he applied for and was told he didn’t get the position. I felt really bad that was the night we decided to spend apart. I’m sure he just needed a hug. He was depressed. I told him. “I can try to hug it away.” He asked if we could hang out the following night. I told him I had no plans and would love to.
When he stopped responding to my texts, I joked, “Replaced me with pizza?” He apologized since his pizza was delivered, and he added, “Food won’t comfort me as much as you.” And with a smile on my face, I dozed off for the night.
The next night, he came over. I made dinner for us both, and we watched movies. It was nice to have someone to spend my evenings with. This is what I really wanted in a relationship. This is what I was looking for. I was happy!
When we woke the next day, I made us breakfast. He spent the afternoon with me, and we finally motivated ourselves to hit the gym. He went home and changed while I showered. We met at the corner and walked to the gym together. He was very quiet and solemn that morning. We didn’t work out together, but that’s because I like to do my own thing at the gym. We finished at the same time and walked home together.
That’s when he dropped a small bomb on me. He told me he was moving back home. I didn’t quite know how to take the news. I wasn’t thrilled with it. It meant he would be much further away, and we wouldn’t be spending evenings together so readily. I knew why he did it, and I realized he needed to get his life back on track. But, I selfishly didn’t like the idea.
That evening I had a bunch of friends come over to pregame before hitting up my friend’s birthday gathering at a bar a block away. He met many of my friends and seemed to fit in, but I still had the idea of him moving home in the back of my mind. When the time came, we all made our way to the bar. It was a fun night, but PR was being standoffish. He wasn’t mingling with my friends and was only talking to me a majority of the night. I was a little disappointed. On top of this, he was getting pretty inebriated and flirtatious. I’m comfortable with my sexuality, but I don’t like PDA in a “straight” bar. I feel all eyes on me, and it hinders me from enjoying myself. Nothing he was doing crossed the line, but it also was edging further and further.
By the time we moved to a friend’s bar (after hours) he was being overt. Granted it was a much more exclusive group and mainly my friends, but he was drunk and making me uncomfortable. I tried to just look past it.
Once again, we went to Cluck U to get a late-night snack. He was so drunk he couldn’t stay awake long enough to eat his. I carried him to my bed and tucked him in. He wasn’t happy because he wanted his chicken, but soon enough he dozed off. I put it in the fridge until the following day. I wasn’t resentful at all of this. I actually enjoyed taking care of him. I knew if our relationship continued, he’d be doing the same for me down the road. I sat in the living room and ate my chicken with the company of my thoughts. I had a lot on my mind since he told me he’d be moving back home. The news he didn’t get the position he applied for was a little unsettling as well. On top of this, there was the incompatibility we shared in the bedroom that hadn’t been resolved. This wasn’t the stability I was searching for, but I was still enjoying his company.
When I had my fill, I tucked myself in bed in quickly dozed off.
The next day, we woke, and he continued to give me $hit for not allowing him to eat his chicken the night before. He ate it for lunch instead.
We got dressed and ready for the day finally. I needed to go grocery shopping, so we walked to Garden of Eden together. His mother was coming in an hour to take him home. It was a bittersweet day. We’d spent more than a week straight together with the exception of one day. Things progressed quickly, but then again, they were about to change drastically.
I said goodbye to him as we made plans for the coming days. We were a few days away from Valentine’s Day, and he really wanted to celebrate it together. I obliged.
I thought about him the rest of the night and what this new arrangement would mean for us. I was quickly coming back down from the clouds…
Follow @onegayatatimeTesting Boundaries
Posted by One Gay at a Time in Gay Dating on March 15, 2012
Once again, today is another double post to make up for lost time. If you are just visiting for the first time today, scroll down to the previous story to keep up with the timeline. Enjoy!
It had been a long work trip. I didn’t have any spare time for anything fun other than work. The one hour I had free, I spent on the treadmill trying to get back in shape for the rapidly approaching warm weather.
After my meeting, I sped to the airport. I wanted to get home so I could start my weekend off right. I began texting everyone back home to see what they were up to so I could be efficient with my time when I landed. I sent out a flurry of texts and received a few responses before taking off. I knew at least a few people were up for drinks at the bar. I also decided to take care of my pre-game at 30,000 feet. I ordered two scotch on the rocks to help get me started.
When I landed, I got more responses to my texts. Some people were too lazy to go out. They received harassing phone calls from me urging them to sack up and join the able-bodied and willing. It was no use. I also texted my Grindr friend who recently moved to Hoboken from the city — Much closer to me. I asked him if he wanted to check out the Hoboken scene. I warned him it would be all straight bars, but he was down.
I picked up some food at the airport I could eat in the car on the way home. When I arrived, I quickly showered and got dressed. My friend took a little longer to get ready, so I had to wait for him a bit. I was getting messages from my sister and friend who were at the bar waiting for my arrival. I told them to keep their pants on… I was en route.
I met my friend on the corner and walked with him to my local watering hole, McSwiggans. I told him about the bar as we walked. He asked how my trip was, and we continued the small talk.
I hadn’t told anyone I was bringing a guy with me. They were a bit surprised. But, I wasn’t bringing him as a love interest. I was bringing him as a new neighbor and friend. He didn’t know Hoboken, so I thought I could show him around a bit. I also knew he was normal enough he would fit in. I introduced him to everyone, and we got beers. I spent a lot of the night chatting with him, but mixed in with my friends/sister as well. As the night progressed, my sister grew more and more intoxicated. She started rubbing her a$s on me like she does with people when she’s drunk. It took a lot to get her to stop.
After some time, I got a text from one of my teammates from college. He was in town at another bar, so I gathered everyone up, and we made our way to Black Bear. He was there with his new girlfriend and her friends. When we arrived, I needed to relieve myself immediately. He came down the stairs and joined me standing in line to hit up the bathroom. After we all finished using the facilities, we made our way upstairs. My group grabbed a table, and my friend dragged me over to meet his group. He introduced me while my Grindr friend followed me. His girlfriend was already three sheets to the wind and shouted into my ear, “Is this your boyfriend?” I explained he was just a friend, and we all continued chatting. When I realized I was neglecting my other friends, we made our way back to the other table.
By then my sister was wasted, and she needed to go home. Luckily, one of the guys in the group who is utterly chivalrous, volunteered to escort her home since they both lived uptown. I said goodbye to both and was left with P and my Grindr friend. When my Grindr friend went to the bathroom, I explained my predicament to her. Until this point, we were just friends, but I wasn’t sure if maybe we could be more. I asked her if I should make a move.
“Why not!? What do you have to lose?” she asked. I told her I liked having him as a friend, and if I crossed that line, I wouldn’t have a friend anymore. I wasn’t sure which I would rather have. A new friend or a new guy to date. She still suggested I go for it. I decided I would make a game time decision later.
I felt like it was mine for the taking. He always seemed interested but who could really tell? I was purposely putting out the friend vibe, but I think if I escalated things, he would be interested.
The night was dragging on, and I was tired. We closed our tab and made our way for the door. P lived in the opposite direction of my new neighbor and I. Furthermore, we decided to stop at Cluck U and get a late night snack before heading home. When he asked if we were eating there or somewhere else, I volunteered to go back to my place.
When we walked into my apartment, we sat at the counter eating and talking. When we finished, he needed to use the bathroom. I moved over to the couch in hopes he would as well when he came back into the room. He didn’t get the hint. He sat back down at the counter until I suggested he join me in the living room. When he did, he sat in the chair next to the couch. This was going to take some work.
We talked some more before I finally moved to the chair and said, “I hope this isn’t out of line, but…” and I laid a big kiss on him. He totally kissed me back. It was great. Taking the risk paid off. When I pulled back, I asked him, “Did I surprise you?” “Well… YEAH! Of course I was surprised. I just thought we were going to be friends,” he replied. “I know. I was putting out that vibe on purpose. I wasn’t sure what would come between us,” I told him. He just smiled, and we kissed again…
Follow @onegayatatimeFinding the Piece of My Heart I Left in San Francisco
Posted by One Gay at a Time in Gay Dating on March 1, 2012
Wednesday night arrived. It was “date night” for San Francisco and I. We were meeting in the Castro to grab a drink and maybe some dinner together. It had been a while since I’d seen him last, and we were due for a catch up.
Since work was paying, and I was too lazy to learn the public transit system in San Francisco, I decided to take a cab. We arrive in The Castro neighborhood, and I witnessed the largest rainbow flag I’d ever seen in my life. The only thing I could compare it to (for the Americans in the room) is the giant American flags that adorn the poles in the parking lots of Perkins across the country. If you read my blog, you know how much I’m not a fan of the rainbow. However, I’m embarrassed to admit, the sheer size and presence of this thing actually made me a little proud.
I got out of the cab and met him on the street as we exchanged a hug and a kiss. We made our way to Badlands just up the street just in time for some happy hour specials. We caught up on the other’s dating life over the past few months. I learned San Francisco is currently casually dating someone. In the back of my mind, I’m very happy to hear this news. I didn’t want things to escalate beyond drinks for us, and this news was reassuring.
I told him the abbreviated story of Smiles and what I did on New Year’s Eve. He was a little surprised, but certainly didn’t judge.
As the alcohol flowed, his emotions escalated. He became much more affectionate, and even started to get a bit hot n’ heavy. I just went along with it. I had no emotions attached to these actions. I was fully over San Francisco. I tried changing the subject so he wouldn’t keep putting the moves on me.
He talked about the possibility of moving back to New York, but said it would be very different this time around. He’s a completely different person. Everything he was saying were basically the reasons why I ended things with him. It was as if he’d read the blog. (To my knowledge, he still does not know about the blog).
We started talking about his dream of opening a bar in Hawaii. We talked a great deal about even the smallest details in his dream. I suggested a name for his bar, and he immediately fell in love with it. He even went as far as to register the domain immediately from his BlackBerry. I told him how to do all this with my advertising background and knowledge and my recent experience of purchasing my own domain for this blog.
He then brought up the possibility of checking out a drag show that evening, but then he remembered it wasn’t my thing. Instead, he suggested we grab dinner at one of his favorite restaurants.
The meal was spectacular, and it wasn’t that expensive. I was also introduced to one of his friends who is a server there. As the night went on, San Francisco grew more and more inebriated. He wasn’t’ too much to handle yet, but he was drawing closer. He started growing louder and more indignant.
When the bill arrived, I think he thought I was going to take care of it. I think he thinks I have an unlimited expense account (which isn’t the case at all), when in reality I paid for his meal the last time I was out there because I wanted to thank him for hanging out with me that night. We split the check and made our way for the door.
The whole time, I was trying to send a pretty clear signal I wasn’t interested in hooking up that night. I was failing. He asked if we should go back to my hotel or hit up his apartment. Then he answered his own question when he realized how close to his place we were. Again, I just went with it. I’m not entirely sure why I didn’t just go home. I think I thought I could get him home and then say goodnight.
While we rode in a cab to his apartment, he asked me about the stuffed animals and orchids he sent me for my birthday. I explained that was over nine months ago. I was lucky I kept the orchids alive for six months. As far as the stuffed animals, I told him I gave the mistaken monkey away, but I still had the bear (of much more significance) at my parents’ house.
When we got to his place, I met his roommate for the first time. One had only seen me on Skype and heard lots about me, and the other had never met me. Ironically, the other share the same unique name as me and joined on as a roommate shortly following our breakup. I’m not going to lie; I thought it was a bit weird.
When we finished tormenting the roommates with S.F.’s drunken antics, we went into his room. It appeared I was spending the night. However, it was just going to be that. I was not having sex with him.
Of course the makeout session ensued. I thought to myself, “At least he’s a good kisser.” Then the makeout session morphed into more passionate actions, and I found myself with no clothes on. S.F. put me in a position to begin to penetrate me, but I wasn’t going to make it that easy for him. I kept casually squirming so it wouldn’t be possible. He kept gently trying, but I wasn’t going to give in. There was no way in hell I was going to have sex with him, but I also knew I was dealing with a drunk man. I gently whispered into his ear, “Let’s just spend the night together.”
With that, he rolled over into little spoon position. I curled up with him and went to bed. In the morning, when my alarm went off for me to head back to my hotel to go to work, I found myself with his mouth on my “morning excitement.” I had forgotten how good he is at that. It didn’t quite matter. I wasn’t in the mindset to finish with him, and we know how difficult that can be even when I am in the mindset.
I got dressed, and he remained in bed. I could tell he was disappointed, but I didn’t care. I was not going to revisit old territory.
I didn’t hear from him until much later the next day. He told me how hungover he was in the morning, proving to me how drunk he was. He asked what my plans were for the remainder of my trip, but we didn’t discuss meeting up again while I was there. I was happy to dodge that bullet.
I let things go further than I wanted, but at least I didn’t hurt his feelings too harshly in the meantime. In my mind things wouldn’t quite be the same for us going forward. No longer did I feel the urge to call him just to chat, which is sad. It appears I have collected what pieces of my heart I left in San Francisco…
Follow @onegayatatimeBreakfast 2.0
Posted by One Gay at a Time in Gay Dating on February 9, 2012
I continued my walk of shame north on Seventh Avenue. I was still dressed for a night out from New Year’s Eve the night before. I didn’t care if anyone judged me. I was in my own world. No one else existed that morning. I was utterly alone in a city of millions.
I continued to try to reach Boston through text and by phone, but no dice. Since I was going to be near his apartment, I thought I would reach out to Broadway. At the very least, I could kill time with a visit until Boston finally decided to get back to me. I called him, and he picked up after a few rings. I asked him what he was up to and told him I wanted to swing by for a visit. He was still in bed and said he needed a few minutes, but he told me to come by. I told him I was walking from the 20s, so there was no rush for him to get out of bed.
When I arrived, I walked right up to his apartment. It was like old times — A blast from the past. It’d been months since I’d been there, but it felt like yesterday. I knocked on the door, and he greeted me. I came in and sat while he finished getting ready for the day. We sat on the couch, and he asked how my New Years was. “Tell me stories. You always have good stories to tell me,” he added. I told him what I did the night before. I gave him the cliff notes because I didn’t want to belabor the point. The wound was still fresh and bleeding. He shrugged it off and suggested we go to the diner for breakfast. I kinda loved that about him. He knew how I felt about it, so he did his best to brush it under the rug.
I agreed to go to breakfast, but I told him I’d already eaten. I would keep him company, and we could catch up. It’d been since the summer since I’d seen him.
Breakfast was nice. He told me about the party he went to the night before and all the guys he was pursuing. As usual, he was very passive about it. “I dunno if I really want to see him again…” he’d say. He’d find something completely superficial to judge the guy about so he wouldn’t have to put in the effort.
Since Smiles’ birthday gathering, we gained a mutual friend. We learned this from Facebook. The guy who I palled around for the night had been at the party Broadway went to the night before. They interacted, but it wasn’t a positive interaction. Broadway was remotely interested in this guy, but apparently he gave him the cold shoulder. This really turned him off, but I assured him my birthday buddy was a really great guy. If I’d been single that night, I probably would have asked him for his number. Broadway wasn’t sold.
Ironically enough, Smiles and I were almost at this party. It wasn’t until Smiles learned of the over-priced charge to enter that he decided we were just going to the house party. It was crazy to realize Broadway, Smiles and I were all swimming in the same circles in New York City. Apparently the gay community was pretty tight, even in a big city. It put it all into perspective. It also made me realize the picture of myself I painted when I let a stranger suck on my neck and face in front of the guy I was dating.
I wasn’t feeling very talkative, so I did a lot of question asking and listening. When Broadway finished his breakfast, he asked for the check. He wasn’t feeling well, so he wanted to go back to bed. I checked my phone, and Boston still hadn’t gotten back to me. I guess I wouldn’t see him before he left the city.
I walked Broadway back to his apartment and said goodbye. Something I learned from him was it is okay to kiss an ex on the lips when you see them. When I first came out, I was fascinated by how often gay men kissed each other. This was completely foreign to me and not something I was comfortable with. Even if I travel in a big gay pack, I don’t think I would be kissing my gay male friends. But, I felt comfortable kissing a man who I had kissed over a hundred times. So we exchanged a kiss and a hearty hug before I made my way to Port Authority to snag a bus back to Hoboken.
While I walked to the bus, I texted Smiles: “Since I have the day off tomorrow, can we do something fun?” I was hoping I could do some damage control and get us back on a happy track.
It wasn’t long before I received a simple text in response: “I have to work tomorrow.” I was already picturing a Monday afternoon with me sinking deep into the couch by myself in front of the TV. I was very disappointed, but it’s not like I had anything to say. I was the one who royally messed up here. I was going to have to deal with the consequences.
Later that evening, I talked to Boston on Facebook. I told him what I did and how things played out. We didn’t talk long, but promised to come back to the topic when he had more time.
I had time all day to assess the situation. Why wasn’t Smiles mad? I realized I wasn’t happy about this. It hurt even more. It showed me quite clearly how little I meant to him. I didn’t see any way to recover from this. I was pretty sure our relationship was over. And, since I’m pretty much a high schooler in the gay dating world, I hopped back on adam4adam.com and Grindr that night to see what was out there. I wasn’t throwing my line into the sea, but I could at least swim around and see what kind of fish were out there…
Follow @onegayatatimeThe Fog Lifts
Posted by One Gay at a Time in Gay Dating on February 8, 2012
New Year’s Day, Smiles woke me in the morning. I was in a complete fog. I immediately began wracking my brain to remember how the night ended. I knew we had sex, and once again, I could only remember a tiny flash of the intimate moment we shared the night before but no more than a flash. I could remember being p*ssed at Smiles on the walk home for walking five paces in front of me. And, I could remember smoking on the balcony.
I had now realized I completely wiped my phone, so anyone who texted the night before would certainly not be receiving a response from me.
Smiles was up and about walking around the apartment. I searched the room for my briefs, but couldn’t locate them. He came in the room and retrieved them for me from deep within the sheets. I had a massive headache, so he gave me some pain killers and water. It was sweet of him to take care of me in my still inebriated/hungover state. I asked Smiles about leaving the party, and he recounted the details for me. It was clear he wasn’t thrilled about it, but he also wasn’t holding it against me. The he uttered, “And I haven’t even gotten to the fun part yet!” he added.
He was going to leave it at that. I told him he couldn’t do that to me. He had to tell me what else I did. He asked if I really wanted to know, and I insisted. This is the “fun” part:
Apparently, the advances made by the guy on the balcony didn’t end there. Clearly he was persistent, and clearly I was vulnerable and well intoxicated. Smiles recounted a scene for me that drained all the blood from my face. “[The guy who sang my praises to Smiles] came up to me and asked me if you were okay. When I told him you were fine, he replied, ‘Are you sure? Because he’s making out with someone else on the couch.” I nearly passed out. I couldn’t believe it. Was I really capable of that? Could I really do that to another person after witnessing N do that to me? Was I that heartless?
I racked my brain trying to remember any bit of a make-out session on the couch. A vague image came to mind of this man kissing all over my neck. I remember asking him to stop, but also couldn’t remember putting up a strong fight. I’m not sure if my mind was making this up or if it was reality. Either way, my actions were deplorable.
I froze. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t believe he was still speaking to me. I couldn’t believe he still had sex with me that night after that. I was mortified. What was going on? My head was spinning!
“What did you do? Did you come over and stop it?” I asked. He shook his head no.
“[Smiles], I don’t know how to apologize for that. I can’t believe I did that! I can’t believe your still speaking to me right now. I can’t believe you didn’t leave me there. I don’t have words for how sorry I am. I don’t remember any of that. At all!” I plead.
“It’s okay. You were drunk. It was New Year’s Eve. Don’t worry about it,” he said.
Don’t worry about it!? I made out with another guy in front of you, and you tell me don’t worry about it?! Should I be happy you’re not that upset about it, or should I be even more hurt that you’re not phased by it. “I still don’t know what to say. I can’t believe I did that,” I added. He just looked back at me with a face that said, “Yeah. You did that.” I wanted to slither away into darkness and forget the world.
We continued to get ready for brunch and walked out the door. As we walked, all I could think about was how disrespectful I was to the man I’d grown so fondly of. Sure we had our moments where I questioned our relationship, but what I did was unforgivable. I would not have been able to forgive myself for what I did. When N did it to me, it signaled the end of our relationship.
I did this in front of his friends — Many of which I told I was dating Smiles. I made myself look like a complete whore, and I made Smiles look like a fool. The man who was singing my praises was the man who witnessed my greatest downfall. This was one of the worst things I’ve ever done in my life, and there was no making up for it and no undoing it.
I continued to tell Smiles how bad I felt about the whole thing. He was trying to make conversation and ignore the subject, but it was all my mind could fixate on. “It’s fine. Stop worrying about it,” he kept saying. We ate breakfast and talked about a few things I can’t recall because my mind was completely elsewhere. I was crushed. I almost had to leave the restaurant, Extra Virgin — His favorite restaurant, so I could go outside and cry.
It was a gorgeous day, and Smiles told me he wanted to go for a bike ride. He asked what I had planned for the day. I couldn’t think. I had no plans. I was hoping to spend the day with Smiles, but clearly that wasn’t an option. I decided I was going to try to meet Boston before he left the city, even if it was at the bus stop. I had to tell him what I did. I knew he wouldn’t look favorably on me, but I also knew he wouldn’t judge me. I left Smiles with a kiss as he walked south, and I turned and walked north. I decided to walk off my disgrace.
As I pounded the pavement from 11th street to 43rd, I tried reaching Boston. He wasn’t answering the nearly twenty-five calls I made to him. I needed him. I needed someone to talk to. I decided to hit up my roommate and see what she was doing. Maybe we could curl up on the couch and watch a movie to help make the day pass by. I talked to her for a bit, but she had plans. I couldn’t bring myself to tell here what I did. I was too ashamed. I would tell her later.
I decided to call Smiles during my walk. I wanted to make sure he knew how broken up I was about it if we were to survive this. I reiterated how bad I felt and how wrong I was as I tried to choke back tears and a vocal quiver. “Listen. It’s okay. It’s in the past. It was New Year’s Eve. You were drunk. That was 2011. This is 2012. Don’t worry about it. It’s alright,” he assured me. I think he realized how upset this made me, and that was all I could do. My fate was in his hands…
Follow @onegayatatimeTo Kiss or Be Kissed
Posted by One Gay at a Time in Gay Dating on February 7, 2012
Goodbye 2011 and all the hardship that came with it. 2011 was a tough year, and I was ready to kiss it bon voyage.
New Year’s Eve had arrived, and so did Boston. He came to New York City to celebrate with some friends. They were staying at a hotel in Hell’s Kitchen and going to a bar to ring in the new year. We’d been in close contact about meeting up while he was visiting for some time.
We made plans to meet that night before I met Smiles for dinner, however these plans would be broken. As the night’s close grew nearer, Boston realized he wouldn’t have time, so we agreed to try to meet on New Year’s Day.
Instead, I killed time spying on my neighbors across the street with my roommate before venturing into the city for the night. It appeared we’d discovered two ‘mos living over there after some close examination. However, their blinds have been drawn now for quite some time, hindering further “study.”
Smiles and I had been texting about our plan for the evening. We were going to grab dinner somewhere along the way to the party on the Lower East Side, but when he tried to make a reservation for the restaurant downstairs, he realized the difficulty that may pose. Instead he proposed to make beef stroganoff for the two of us at his apartment. I wasn’t thrilled with the idea because I was looking forward to a romantic dinner for two, but it would have to suffice. (Now you can begin to see why I hate New Years).
After we finished eating, we took a cab to the apartment. Smiles spent a good portion of it on the phone with his mother. I’d already made all my new year’s calls on the walk to Smiles’ apartment from the PATH. I didn’t want to be on my phone the rest of the night trying to call people so I got it out of the way before starting our night together. I thought what he was doing was rude. When he hung up, you could cut the tension in the cab with a knife. Neither of us had anything to talk about. The night was not off to a good start.
We arrived at the party and were greeted by a very nice gentleman who was not the host. He was one of the guys Smiles had gone to Six Flags months earlier (whom he didn’t remember without a reminder). A trip I wasn’t invited on and still bitter about. When the host emerged from the shower, Smiles volunteered to run to the corner store to get necessary supplies. Apparently he wasn’t the best of hosts (or so said Smiles). He asked if I wanted to join him or stay and made sure I was okay with staying.
I took the opportunity to get to know the guy who greeted us while I waited for Smiles to return and more guests to arrive. More people joined us in waves, and it was a pleasure to meet them all. I sat on the couch talking to one in particular for some time. He seemed like a really great guy. Later in the night, I would learn from Smiles that this guy told him how great I was after learning we were together. “He had nothing but glowing praises for you,” Smiles divulged.
A majority of the night, Smiles wasn’t paying attention to me. He was far more concerned with standing in as host. He made sure everyone had a full drink at all times, including me. I had to tell him to cool it because I was getting too drunk too fast. I don’t think he realized I was also filling my own drinks besides what he brought me. I was making plenty of conversation with a lot of the other guys at the party in the meantime. Ironically enough, we were talking about dating. I was giving some of the younger guys my “fatherly advice” from my experiences, which is absurd considering I’m out less than two years. I did all this without mentioning my blog once, no matter how much I wanted to direct them to it. Smiles was still unaware I was writing OneGayAtATime.
When the ball was about to drop, the whole crowd gathered around the TV in the host’s bedroom. Smiles asked if I wanted to pile in, but I told him my lack of interest in watching the ball drop. We huddled by the door as Smiles snapped pictures of the group from the doorway. When 2012 arrived, he turned to me and laid a nice kiss on me. When he pulled back, he went in a second time. It was one of his better kisses and it was sweet, but I’m not sure it could make up for the lack of attention I received all night. It was like we were at the same party, but we certainly weren’t together.
As I talked to the other guys, I felt like I was revealing a big secret that Smiles and I were dating. No one knew, and it was as if I was letting the cat out of the bag. I felt uncomfortable about that.
The music came up and the furniture was pushed aside. The living room was now a dance floor. Smiles and I have never gone out dancing together, so I was relishing the opportunity to have a little fun with him. I started dancing with him, and he started laughing at me. It wasn’t completely insulting, but it was also a slightly belittling. I think I was making him uncomfortable (and I am not a bad dancer by any means!).
When I went to refill my drink, Smiles was in the middle of the group dancing up a storm just as I’d seen him bust a move in Central Park. I was hurt. He didn’t want to dance with me, but he did want to dance with everyone else. When I looked down, my cup had only ice in it. So I made the conscious decision to drink away my sorrows. Johnny Walker Black and I huddled in the kitchen and had a good time together.
When someone asked if I wanted to go smoke on the balcony, I jumped at the opportunity. When I got out there, there was a small group including the guy who told Smiles how great I was.
This is where the night gets foggy. There was a guy who was late to the party who was fawning all over me from that point on. He told me I was gorgeous and paid me more compliments than I can remember. I vaguely remember pointing out to him that I was dating Smiles, but that didn’t stop him. He kept laying it on thick.
From that night, the next thing I remember was walking home behind him p*ssed because I was chasing after him. We weren’t walking together. I was walking about ten paces behind him.
Smiles woke me in the morning. I was naked, so I knew we had sex, and I had an uncomfortable moist feeling between my cheeks, so I knew I was the bottom. I thought back and could remember flashes of sex from the night before, but I couldn’t remember anything about leaving the party.
After I searched for my underwear and my dignity, neither of which I could find without assistance, I picked up my phone to check messages. Apparently in my drunken stupor, I wiped out my phone trying to get into it too many times with a failed password. It was back to factory settings.
I told Smiles, and he recounted the walk home. It involved me arguing profusely that we were headed in the wrong direction (Isn’t that ironic). It involved me tapping a French woman on the shoulder and welcoming her to the country. And it involved Smiles being annoyed by my antics.
“And I haven’t even gotten to the fun part yet!” he added.
Follow @onegayatatimeDinner Reunion
Posted by One Gay at a Time in Gay Dating on February 3, 2012
Smiles and I made plans over the Christmas break to share a home-cooked meal my first full night back in town. I was greatly looking forward to it after not seeing him for a week. We’d spent a week apart before, but not over Christmas. Something about it made it tougher for me to get through.
That morning, Smiles sent me a text. He was wishing me luck on my first day back in the office after being away for some time. It was a truly sweet gesture considering how out of character this was for him. Since I left him, he was showering me with attention I didn’t normally receive. I attribute this to our conversation the night before I dropped him at the airport. That was just my assumption, but the only other factor that changed was spending time apart.
Out of the blue, in the middle of the afternoon, he picked up the phone and called me. I’d told him I had to go to the office that week, but there was little chance I would actually be working, so I guess he felt I’d have the free time to chat. It was a very welcomed distraction from my Facebook status perusal and email correspondences.
He called out of boredom. He couldn’t seem to motivate himself to work. He was still in vacation mode from being away. “My head is still at the beach,” he added. I told him there was no need to dive back into everything unless it was urgent. We all have lazy days. Why not ease back into the workload?
Before Christmas, I bought two cashmere hats from Bonobos. Smiles had mentioned interest in similar hats. I bought them just in case we made a last-minute decision to exchange presents. I could ship them back free of charge and Smiles would be none the wiser, but that seemed like a waste. I got a great deal on them considering how much he paid for the last one he purchased, so I decided I was going to ask if he wanted them. It wouldn’t be a gift — I would just be facilitating the deal.
“Are you still interested in cashmere hats, and what is your price point?” I asked. He told me anything under $80 each, which was $20 more than what I paid for them. I decided I was going to show him the hats and come clean about how I came to purchase them. I was worried I would look anxious in his eyes, but since we had our talk about where we were, I decided I needed to start being more of myself. It’s very much like me to do something slightly awkward and come clean about it. I’m very honest when it comes to things like that, shame or no shame. If he didn’t like it, then he didn’t like me.
That night after work, he came over. He texted me as he was getting on the PATH. When I didn’t hear from him for over a half hour, I tried calling and texting. I was getting no response. I wasn’t sure what happened, but I was hoping the meal wouldn’t be overdone waiting for him. Finally, he told me he’d arrived in Hoboken. When he got to my apartment, he told me he’d gotten on the wrong PATH train and ended up in Jersey City. He had to switch over and come back towards Hoboken.
I filled plates for the two of us, and we sat on the couch to eat dinner while we watched TV. Smiles loved the meal. He said it was cooked perfectly and everything was delicious. I was very proud and thrilled with how much he enjoyed it. One thing I love to do is cook for a man, especially when I get such rave reviews.
While we watched TV, my attention was constantly stolen by the reflection of headlights on the windows across the street. He kept asking what I was looking at, and when I told him, he poked fun at my inability to keep my attention fixed. We had a good laugh about it.
Smiles asked if I had any ice cream to finish our meal (you know him and his sweet tooth). I didn’t have any. We had two options. We could venture back out into the cold to pick up a pint, or we could settle for a variety of candy I had stashed in my room. He settled on the candy.
After dinner, we moved things into the bedroom. I was anxious to hop into bed with Smiles, just to feel his body against mine. I didn’t even care if it involved sex. I just wanted to be close to him. But, before we hopped into bed, I decided to bite the bullet on the hats. I explained, and he decided he wanted to keep the gray hat and have me return the black since he already had one. He gave me cash, and the transaction was complete. I was glad I didn’t just send the hats back without consulting him as many of my friends suggested (I have a habit of doing what I want even against my friends’ better judgment).
We laid in bed and exchanged random stories. We discussed how he was healing after his appendectomy. Like I said before, I was going to start being myself, so I told him the ridiculous story about my belly button. For some unknown reason, when I was in college and I got drunk, I would encourage my friends to feel my belly button. I was a swimmer so I had a flat stomach, and when I got drunk, I like the way it felt (maybe the beer pushed it out a bit). I insisted it was incredibly sexy and even took some of my friends’ finger and guided it to my belly button. I also proceeded to tell him about the time my belly button was handpicked as the body shot glass for a bachelorette party when I was in Key West. “ ‘Wow! You have the Grand Canyon of belly buttons!’ one girl shouted,” I told him. He laughed and looked at me like I was from another planet as he examined my belly button.
The rest of the night was more of the same — Lots of cuddling and chatter, but no sex. I was fine with this, as I was just happy to have him in my bed. We both brushed our teeth and climbed under the covers. I was going to bed a happy man that night, and I was looking forward to waking in the morning to a sexy man in bed next to me.
Follow @onegayatatimeAt the ripe age of 26, I came to a life changing conclusion. I'm GAY!
It took me 26 years to realize this and come to terms with it, but coming out's been the best decision of my life.
This blog is about my dating life in NYC and what happens next...
One Gay at a Time 