Posts Tagged Garage

Boyfriend Duties

Sunday morning I was awoken as Smiles got up to use the restroom. I’d spent the entire weekend with him so far, so I certainly woke up on the right side of the bed.

He volunteered to make us coffee and breakfast. Smiles has never been much of a cook, so I was enjoying sitting back and watching him do it. It’s not that he can’t cook. It’s simply that he doesn’t do it very often. I came in the kitchen to kiss on the back of his neck and wrapped my long arms all the way around his body holding him tight. There’s something about hugging someone in that way that really warms me at the core.

I borrowed his computer and checked my emails/Facebook while he finished making me an amazing omelet. He brought it to me with coffee made just the way I like it. I’m sure my pleasure was written across my face as I thanked him. This was another great morning waking up with Smiles.

When he finished making his breakfast, he came into the living room and joined me. I told him how impressed I was with his omelet. It really was great — Better than I make myself.

When we finished eating, he told me his plan for the day to move all the boxes out of his apartment into storage. He’d finally moved everything into one storage center, and he was finally able to box everything up in his apartment he no longer needed on a daily basis. Now he just needed to transport them over to his storage unit. I volunteered to help, so he gave me a t-shirt, and we were on our way.

He reserved a Zipcar to do the job, so I gave him a ride to the garage to pick it up. I sat on the motorcycle outside the garage waiting for him to pass by and honk to follow him back to his apartment. A long time passed, but I just assumed it was taking a while to get his car. Little did I know, he was already on his way back to his apartment. He called me asking where I was, and I couldn’t figure out how he managed to pass me by without noticing I was still there or me seeing him drive by.

I stepped on it and sped back to his apartment. We packed the car to the gills and took a lot of things over to the storage center. In the meantime, Smiles was experiencing the onset of one of his chronic migraines. I felt so bad for him, but there was nothing I could do for him. We returned the Zipcar back to the garage and walked back to his apartment trying to find as much shade as possible on such a gorgeous November Sunday.

I put him to bed and went on my way about the rest of my day. I went back through the Holland Tunnel to may apartment. I had the better portion of the day ahead of me, so I decided to be productive while doing something relaxing. I finished all my grocery shopping for the week and began to cook food for dinner and lunch through the coming week.

Later that evening, he went out to grab dinner. On his walk home, he called just to chat. I expressed my concern for him and his headache, and he told me it was feeling slightly better slowly but surely. He told me he slept most of the day to try to relieve the pain, but there were still some lasting visual effects. He also told me he called to see how the rest of my day was. It was a sweet gesture considering I left him only a few hours earlier. The gesture proved to me he cared about me enough to call with no purpose.

Looking back over the weekend, I began to think about how much our relationship grew. It was a pretty special weekend overall. We spent about 45 hours straight together, and he was still not sick of me — So much so that he called. I would never say it out loud to him, but I started to wonder if I had managed to land a boyfriend along the way there somewhere…

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Brooklyn

After an afternoon romp in the sheets, Smiles and I hopped on my motorcycle and rode out to Brooklyn for the day.

Smiles has a ’68 Ford Mustang parked in a garage out there, and it hadn’t been run in a few months. He wanted to make sure it would still start and take it around the block. I was thrilled because I was finally going to get to see the car! I had a crush on that car from the moment I learned of its existence, and Smiles knew this. I thought it made him sexier, and it turned me on.

Smiles rode on the back of my motorcycle clutching onto me as we rode over the Williamsburg Bridge and around Brooklyn. It was the first time had gone for a ride longer than a few blocks. I really enjoy riding with him on the bike.

We arrived at the garage and removed the cover from the car. I immediately took my phone out and began snapping pictures with my phone. I put my bike in his parking spot while he pulled the car out of the garage. I tossed my helmet in the back seat and hopped in. I immediately reached over and gave his thigh a squeeze to show him my appreciation and excitement.

As we drove down the street, every single person we passed by was enamored by the car. A kid stopped in the middle of the street with his mouth gaping as he watched the car come closer until he realized he was in the middle of the street. One man even took out his camera and snapped pictures while we sat at a stoplight. Apparently, I wasn’t the only one with a crush on this car.

He proposed we grab lunch somewhere fun, so we scoped out the neighborhood as we drove. We found a parking space and decided to walk around a bit until we found a pub to grab food in, Spike Hill. We settled in, and as per usual, Smiles started chatting up the waitress. After we ordered, unbeknownst to me, he asked her, “Do you know anywhere in the neighborhood where he could get his haircut fixed.” I wasn’t thrilled with paying to have my hair fixed. I was complacent to just let it grow out, but Smiles was pretty persistent.

She gave us directions to a barber up the street, Brooklyn General Barber Emporium, and I begrudgingly agreed to partake in the hair repair excursion.

We got to the barber shop, and from the looks of it, I was a little worried. They weren’t exactly welcoming either. There was a long wait, so we decided to go for a walk around the neighborhood to kill time.

Smiles was interested in opening a bar in the area, so we scoped out some possible locations and realtors. We also popped into some cool hipster shops.

While in one of them, there were two gay men working together making a hysterical fuss. “You got to open one, so I want to open one too. It’s only fair.” “Is this the hunter green one?” “No, stupid! That one is just green.” “Well what about this one?” “That one is celery.” I couldn’t stop laughing at their commentary. I also noticed a poster on the wall I found very humorous. I was very close to buying it, if only I had someone I could give it to who would actually display it.

The time came to go back to the barber. It was getting dark, so I told Smiles we didn’t have to do it that evening. But once again, he was pretty insistent.

Finally it was my turn in the chair. I ended up with the female stylist who asked what I wanted done. She was extremely nice and full of energy. However, I use the term she loosely. I couldn’t be sure 100%, but I had my suspicions she wasn’t always a she. Regardless, she was a doll. Smiles stood in the wings while I explained what happened and what I wanted done. “Oh honey! What happened to you!? I could have done a better job drunk! You want me to butch you up?” she said. “YES!” Smiles said from behind me.

Once she started, Smiles returned to his seat intently watching her cut my hair. I found it extremely cute and adorable how he took an interest in my appearance. She asked me, “Is that your boyfriend?” I simply replied, “Yes.” Then she excused herself for the question on the off-chance I wasn’t actually gay. I told her, “No harm, no foul.”

In the end, Smiles and I were both very happy with my new haircut. I thought I was going to be very uncomfortable with it since it was so much shorter than I usually cut my hair, but I was thrilled and shocked. She really did a great job fixing my cut.

We also took the walk back to the car as an opportunity to discuss the status of my barber. He agreed that miss used to be a mister.

On the way to the garage, Smiles proposed going to see the new Twilight movie. I was surprised, because usually at this point, I get the boot. I thought I was going home after I dropped him off because he’d have plans with a friend, but that wasn’t the case. I explained to him I’d never seen any of the Twilight movies, so I was worried I’d be a little lost, but I told him I was willing if he got me caught up. He took the time to explain what I’d missed. We rode back to the garage, swapped the car for the bike and made our way back to Manhattan…

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Dr. Talks A Lot

Since I was back to the single life, I was back to adam4adam. This certainly didn’t thrill me. But, once again, I have almost no gay friends, and I’m really not big on the gay scene. Other than online, I had no way to meet other gay men. One year out of the closet, and only one friend tried to connect me with another man.

In my a4a travels, I came across The Hot Dermatologist. When I first set eyes on his picture, I was a bit gaga. His body looked amazing. I messaged him and told him so, but I also told him I’d like to get to know him better. He responded well because I wasn’t just looking for a hookup. After chatting back n forth a few times, we agreed to meet for dinner.

We set a date, and made plans. He lives on the Upper East Side of NYC, and he asked if I would be willing to trek up there. I had no reason why I couldn’t, so I agreed. The day of the date, we picked a time, however, I finished work earlier than expected. I texted him, and we changed our plans. He meant to walk the dog before we met, but since I was done early, he invited me to join him for the walk.

When I arrived at his apartment, he told me to come up. He was doing something and wasn’t quite ready yet. When I got up to his apartment, we introduced ourselves at the door with a handshake. He told me to come in and introduced me to his dachshund. He apologized for not being ready and told me he was uploading pictures from his camera onto his computer. I originally thought it was something for work, but then he started showing me the pictures. They were of his dog from the weekend. This was a priority over a date with a sexy man?

He then proceeded to tell me he endorses a product on the HSN. He showed me the video clip from his call in earlier in the day.

Finally, he was ready to take the dog for a walk. We made our way outside and began to chat a bit. We talked about work, his dog and what we do for fun — simple small talk. He warned me ahead of time he needed to stop at one point to call into HSN live again. We found a quiet corner of the street, and he placed the call. It was interesting to hear what he had to say, but at the same time, I felt this was a bit odd.

When he finished the call, we walked back to the apartment to drop off the dog. He informed me his best friend was coming by while we were grabbing dinner to watch the dog and then go to the gym together later.

We walked to a nearby Mexican restaurant. He made a few recommendations, and we ordered. The whole meal, he talked. I got a few words in edgewise, but the majority of them were simply a response to his comments. He talked about how he’d like to meet a guy, but they never seem to tolerate his busy schedule. He had a boyfriend for a long time who was able to deal with his lack of presence, but that was long over. In the next sentence, he talked about how little he was making because he was in residency. He was interviewing at two different dermatologists’ offices for a position on Saturday and Sunday, his only two days off. How did he expect to find a man willing to be in on that deal?

Following dinner, he decided to take me into the garage of his building to move his car to the new space he acquired that morning. Again, this was an odd thing to do on a date. It was like I was tagging along for his errands. As we took the elevator to his floor, he told me his friends do not approve of his online dating. Just before opening his apartment door, he explained to me how he told his friend he was on a business dinner. I didn’t know what to do with that information. I had no idea what part I was supposed to be playing.

We walked in and I was introduced to his friend. His friend said, “I thought you told me you were on a business dinner?” Dr. Hotness responded, “I did.” To which his friend responded, “You went dressed like that?!” I think he immediately caught on to what was up and stopped asking questions.

After the good doctor showed his friend the pictures of his dog and the same video he showed me only an hour earlier, we all went down to the sidewalk in front of his building with the dog again. We all sat there chatting a bit. This was one of the oddest dates I have ever been on. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to run, but I didn’t want to sit there any longer either. It was the single most selfish dateI’ve ever been on.

When 8:00 arrived, Dr. Hotness said, “Well, we’re gonna hit up the gym.” We all stood, and I got a handshake. “Call me later,” he said.

With that, I turned and started walking downtown. I knew I couldn’t walk all the way down to Port Authority from 96th street, but I wasn’t ready to hop on a subway. I pulled up Grindr to see if any of the other men I was pursuing were available to meet up. Of course no one was. I wasn’t ready to just go home and plop on the couch, so I called a few friends to see if anyone was interested in an evening jog. Once again, no luck.

I got about half way to Port Authority when I gave in and flagged a cab. Another date under my belt and I had nothing to show for it. It was very disappointing.

That night, I sent him a text: “It was a pleasure meeting you and [the dog].” He responded, “U too.” I have NO idea why I said this (probably because he was so hot), but I did: “Hit me up if you want to meet up again sometime.”

In a funny twist of fate, he responded, “I think we should just be friends.” I texted, “Gonna have to agree with you there. Not that you’re not a good-looking guy. Haha.”  Apparently I struck a chord there, because he said, “Ha. Why? Am I not your type?” I said, “Haha. Why do you ask? You actually are… You just don’t seem to be fully invested in finding a relationship to be honest… I assume you said just friends because I’m not yours?”

At this point, he was insulted by my observation. We went back n forth on the issue. I told him I didn’t mean to offend. After some long exchanges and some playful banter, we ended on being friends with benefits. He said, “I can tell you are a great guy too. Love your body and how sincere you are!” I was very flattered. Since then, we have been texting but have yet to meet up again. Who knows? Maybe we’ll have a hot time sometime. Maybe not.

I went in to this date very skeptical. Most men and women would swoon over dating a doctor. For me, it was a BIG turnoff. I already dated a Broadway dancer who was unavailable. A doctor would be a step in the wrong direction. When was I finally going to find a guy for me? It was back to the drawing board…

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San Francisco Comes to The Big Apple

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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