Posts Tagged gay club

Connecticut Cutie

Since I’ve been slacking, I’m going to make it up to you this week. Hope you don’t have a busy week, because you’ve got a lot of content coming your way!

For as long as I can remember, I was trying to nail down a date with a specific guy I met on adam4adam.com. He had the cutest smile that could light up a room (in case you haven’t noticed — and I’m just coming to this realization — I’m a sucker for smiles). He messaged a few times on a4a, but nothing ever materialized.

Months passed, but I could never seem to get him to meet me. He’d show a lot of interest, and then he’d disappear for a bit. Like the ocean, it was a constant ebb and flow with him. Finally, I just flat out gave up on him, and I didn’t hear from him again. When I broke up with Smiles, I went back through my saved messages and decided to hit him up and see if this time would be different.

Ironically enough, I learned he moved out of the city. He was originally from Connecticut, and he moved back home with his parents to save a little money. It seemed now he was interested in finally meeting me, just when it would be most difficult. We discussed many evenings as possibilities to grab a drink before we finally found a good day to grab lunch. Even then, we were playing things by ear.

Of course, this didn’t happen. He had to cancel on me. However, he proposed raincheck options. He agreed to meet me for a drink one night after work on his way to Grand Central to hop on Metro North to CT. I did some research to find a bar that would be convenient for both of us. We set a time, and I told him to meet me at Annie Moran’s by Grand Central Station.

I was already having reservations about this guy. Was this how it was going to be all the time. Quick rendezvous before he went home? I finished work before him, so I decided to walk there instead of taking a subway or cab. It was raining lightly, so I broke out my umbrella, however I wasn’t walking alone. I had Grindr to keep me company while I walked. I’m such a whore. I was already looking for the next date before this one even got off the ground. But, it’s what you gotta do if you have an aversion to gay clubs. I stood outside the bar paging through profiles while I waited for him to arrive. He too was walking from work, and he worked about fifteen blocks away.

Just before he walked up, he gave me a call. I told him where I was, and when he saw me he hung up. As he walked towards me, he wasn’t quite what I was expecting. It wasn’t a bad thing; he was just smaller than I originally thought. We greeted each other with a handshake, and with that made our way into the bar. He offered to buy me a drink since I’d been waiting for him. I was in charge of watching our bags and trying to find a piece of real estate to stand/sit and chat.

He came back with the beers, and we dove into conversation. It was slow going at first, going through the standard order of questions. As he talked about his job in fashion, I noticed a bit of flamboyance coming through. I wasn’t thrilled, but it was far from a deal breaker. He was certainly cute (although he looked much cuter in his pictures before he cut his hair shorter).

We talked about family, work, his moving back home, where I live and grew up, commuting nightmares, etc. It was nice. I couldn’t quite tell if he was all that into me. I was starting to think he thought I was too “straight” for him. But, as the conversation progressed, his body language began to change. I realized he may have just been nervous. Once he relaxed, I could tell, he was flirting a little heavier. After the first beer, he asked if I wanted another. I gladly accepted. I figured he was going to dictate the end of the date since he was the one who had to catch a train. He told me all about his curfew and how he’d have to take a taxi if it got past a certain hour; his parents would no longer pick him up.

We talked about watching sports on TV and participating in them. Somehow skiing came up, and I told him my story about the first time I skied and how well I did. When the group next to us lef their table I snatched it, while he got us a third round of drinks. The date was going well, or at least I thought so.

While we sat, he took the opportunity to touch my leg periodically. I love that. It’s a surefire sign of interest. I returned the favor as well. I could tell there was a lot of sexual energy between us as well. We were both feeling it. We talked more about what we do for fun when we’er not working. He told me about his old apartment and how he still comes back into the city to do rotating dinner with friends at their respectful apartments. There were slight awkward pauses, but that can be warranted on a first date.

When he finished his third beer, he told me he had to be running for his train. I thanked him for picking up the tab, and I told him I would pay next time. “If there can be a next time,” I added. I walked him to the doors of Grand Central and said goodbye. He was lingering, and I could tell he wanted a kiss. I wasn’t sure his position on PDA, but I decided to go for it. I wanted a kiss, so I was going to get one. I leaned in with my arm behind his back and gave him a nice quick kiss goodbye. We agreed to find time to see each other again soon as we parted ways.

On my ride home, I took the opportunity to text him and let him know I thought he was cute. He told he had a great time, but also told me how he’d locked himself in the bathroom on the train. It was a really funny story, and I was happy to hear he had such a great sense of humor and easy-going personality. He told me he wanted to grab lunch later in the week, and I agreed. We would figure out a time that worked for us both. I was already looking forward to it…

, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

2 Comments

Juggling Act

Over the course of time, I began talking to a guy who’d been in and out of my life for almost a year. I think I started talking to him on Grindr first. We then found each other on adam4adam.com. Finally, we became Facebook friends.

You would think with all this contact, we’d be best friends or lovers by now, but that wasn’t the case. Whenever I was between guys I was dating, I would once again hit him up. He was very attractive and seemed to have a very level head on his shoulders. I really wanted to get to know him better, but I got the feeling I was going to have to pursue this one. I wasn’t going to win him over overnight.

For some reason, this time around was a little different. He was much more receptive to my advances. When the conversation would die down, I would prod him about losing interest. He would deny it and pay a lot of attention to me. He was constantly asking for me to send him pictures of myself and sending me compliments. It was nice to have a man tell me I was attractive.

We spent many evenings chatting on a4a and Facebook. I got to know a lot about his sexual side through those conversations. They would start innocently enough about our typical lives and somehow they’d always segue into our sex lives/desires. I was okay with this because I wanted a good man with a healthy sexual appetite. This was something I’d come to learn as of late. I needed to stop sacrificing good sex for a decent guy. I needed both.

I was also trying to juggle him in with the other guys on my roster. It is always such a challenge to get gay men to commit to anything. They never seem to want to be locked down to anything. I would schedule a date, and sure enough they’d always cancel or postpone. I was really getting tired of flakes running my social life. When my Friday night date cancelled, I tried to see if he was free for a drink.

I wasn’t able to meet him when he was free. He already had plans to go to Sugarland, a gay club in Brooklyn with a friend. He reported to me about his night with texts and pictures. Apparently he wasn’t having the best time and told me it was “Indian night.” Not his cup of tea. Since we couldn’t meet on Friday, we agreed to try for Saturday night.

It was going to be tough however. I was supposed to be attending my sister’s birthday gathering at a local bar. He had plans to go into the city. We agreed to try to meet up later, but who knew if that would come to fruition. He said, “I may head into the city, but we’ll both probably be out late… Let’s keep in touch and see where we are at later.” Of course, we’d never find each other that night. He still insists he sent me text messages to meet up, but I never received them.

Instead, when I got home, I texted my new “friend with benefits” to come by. I even volunteered to let him spend the night so he wouldn’t have to walk in the cold. He agreed and came by.

We had a great night together. He was really a passionate lover. It’s too bad he was so old. Instead, we’d simply just take care of each other’s physical needs.

At 6am, we woke and fooled around some more. Again, we never had sex because we are both tops, but he did mention the possibly of bottoming for me in the future.

At 8:30, he left to go home to get ready for church. I stayed in my bed and went back to sleep.

When I woke up later, I told him and my new southern friend about my upcoming work trip and how I really wanted to meet them before I went away. The southerner had to pass because he was helping move a good friend into her apartment. We agreed to grab dinner Monday, Martin Luther King Day in the evening. Hopefully this date would finally come to fruition…

, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

5 Comments

Your Cheating Heart

Saturday, I woke up fairly later in the morning. N was still sleeping in my bed, and Boston was still sleeping on the couch when I started to make breakfast. I fried up some frozen homemade sausage patties and eggs. In the meantime, my two favorite men woke up and joined me in the kitchen. I brewed a pot of coffee, and we sat and ate. Boston and I planned to go into the city for the day. He hadn’t been to the city in ten years. He is in music school and asked to check out the original Steinway store to play on some of their finest pianos. We invited N to join, but his plans included shaving his back and getting a haircut.

When breakfast ended, N and I went into my room and fooled around. I was horny since we didn’t do anything the night before and hungry for real sex. But, N wasn’t 100% cooperative. “I feel bad that Boston is out there alone right now. Ya know, we could let him watch,” he said with a wink and a smile. I just laughed it off and continued with my heavy petting. (I did feel bad for Boston because he got out of the shower and all his clean clothes were in my bedroom.) When I finally realized it wasn’t going to happen, we stopped. N went home to get ready for his day of primping, and I showered to get ready for the city. (I would later come to find N accusing me of hooking up with Boston at this point)

When Boston and I arrived in the city, we came upon a street fair. We walked around and got lunch. Following, I showed him some of the major attractions. It was really nice just relaxing with Boston and walking around the city. He started to feel like a little brother. Finally we arrived at the Steinway and Son’s a half hour before they were about to close for a recital. Boston sat at a few of the pianos and blew me away with his talent. I told him if he ever wanted to impress a guy, he should take him to a piano store and it would be in the bag.

We also stopped into to Saks to visit one of Boston’s old friends. We said hi, and he invited us to a house party and a drag show at a bar on the lower east side, Drom.

On the walk back to Port Authority, we passed a few of the pianos sprinkled around the city. I made Boston sit and play after The Naked Cowboy finished tinkering in Times Square. He ended up being filmed by the man in charge of documenting the project. Overall, I’d say it was a good day for Boston.

When we got back to Hoboken, we got dressed to go out and went to my friend K’s for a bbq. We were skipping the house party, but were going to meet them at Drom.

Likewise, N had plans for the night. Originally, he told me he was going out to dinner with friends and they didn’t know if they were staying in the city or coming back to Hoboken. To me, this meant straight friends. I figured i received no details because he wasn’t out to his- fellow diners. I was wrong. As the day went on, I received more details. He was going to dinner with eight gay men, and then it evolved into them going to Industry, a gay bar.

I asked him if it was an issue if we met up at Industry until Boston’s friends went to the lower east side. He told me to come. When Industry had a long line, they decided to go to Ritz, not my favorite bar. Boston and I finished at the bbq and headed to Ritz. On the walk there from Port Authority, I expressed my concerns about N and the night. I told him how shady it felt since he was being somewhat secretive. When we arrived, N’s phone was dying. I tried calling and texting to no avail. We went into the first floor and couldn’t find him anywhere. We tried upstairs to no avail as well. Finally, he texted me back. He was outside to smoking and trying to find us.

When he finally came back in, he was a drunk sweaty mess. I was way too sober to be there. I get very uncomfortable in gay bars for some reason. So, I ordered four straight vodka shots, two of which were for myself. He began to grind his ass in my crotch, and I liked it! This was the first time we could dance together and not create a total scene. A good portion of the night from then on is a blur for me. I got very drunk so I could tolerate the heat and the club and have blacked out a few bits.

When Boston got a text from his friends, we decided to leave. N told me he was coming with us. I was very pleasantly surprised. Boston and I went outside while N said goodbye to his fiends. When ten minutes passed, and he didn’t come out, I went back into the bar. As I was walking up the stairs, I noticed him talking to someone. Men were passing between us going up and down the stairs, but just then I saw him lean in and kiss this man. My heart shattered into a million pieces. In that millisecond, I felt my world crumbling around me. I know it was just one little kiss, but the fact that he was talking to another man, exchanging numbers and kissing broke my heart. I was crushed.

I didn’t know what to do other than run. I turned and sped down the stairs. He must have seen me at that instant because he chased after me. He tried to spin me around by grabbing my shoulder, but I flung my arms into the air and shouted, “Don’t touch me!” All that went through my head at that point was how many other guys were you grinding on and kissing before I arrived at the bar? We never had the exclusive conversation, but at that point, he was sleeping in my bed almost every night. We were in a relationship, even if it wasn’t defined.

He tried to calm me down on the street, but I was making a scene. I didn’t know what to do. When I get heated I get loud. He asked me to have a conversation and stop shouting, but I couldn’t be calm. I couldn’t be rational. I was enraged. Somehow, he managed to calm me down and convince me it was just a peck on the cheek in passing. Out of my inebriation, I let it go, and we went to the next bar. I felt awful. Boston was standing across the street witnessing this whole scene uncomfortably waiting for us to meet up with his friends at Drom.

In the cab ride, I decided I would pretend it didn’t happen for the night. Boston was only in town until the morning. I would deal with the situation later. I needed to entertain my good friend.

Boston lost his ID the night before, so when we attempted to enter the bar, the bouncer was not cooperative. Finally, when I shoved $40 into his hand, he let us in. After we each paid the $12 cover (on to of the $40), we came to realize Boston’s friends already left. The scene was dead. When I realized there was no chance in hell I was going to have fun the rest of the night, we grabbed a few drinks, and I volunteered to go on the hunt to find Boston a man to have fun with. We asked him what his type was. He explained. Then, N asked him if he was a top or a bottom. (This really had no relevance to the situation, and I think N took advantage to satiate his own curiosity.) When Boston was reluctant to elaborate, N said, “I’m a total top, but I love it when he puts his dick in my ass.” This was news to me. Especially since it never really fully made it there. It was just confirmation he was pumping Boston for information because he had a crush on him.

At one point, N and Boston walked to the bar to get drinks while I went to the restroom. Days later, Boston recounted for me the following exchange: N firmly gripped Boston’s ass and said, “How do you get an ass like that? So tight and firm. I’d really like to put my dick in there.” Had I known this happened that night, I would have left the bar with Boston and that would have been the end of it.

When we were all thoroughly exhausted and bored, we hopped in a cab back to Hoboken. No sooner we were in the door, and N was passed out face down on my bed in his underwear. This raised a whole new red flag in my brain. He was donning the sexiest underwear I’d ever seen him wear. His back was freshly shaved, his chest was cleanly shaved and he had a new haircut. All those are fine, but who was he expecting to see his underwear at a gay club. He spent the entire day getting ready for this night out. He never spent that much time primping to see me. Everything was starting to add up. From the business trip I took on, N was quickly distancing himself and seeking relationship freedom.

I went back out to the kitchen to chat with Boston. He immediately said, “OK! What happened!? What did you see!?” I explained to him the kiss, and in typical fashion, he dealt me the truth. He explained how N manipulated me that night as he watched from across the street. He told me to trust what I saw and trust my own instincts. We talked for at least another hour after that.

N’s phone was sitting there the whole time as well. I picked it up and was about to look through his Grindr messages because I wanted to find the closure I needed to tell him it was over. I couldn’t trust him anymore, but if I had proof, I would be able to get over it myself. Boston convinced me how bad that idea was. I put the phone down without pushing a button. To this day, I still regret not looking. It’s completely out of character for me to not trust someone and read their phone, but it would have delivered me the closure I needed.

At that point, I was exhausted. Physically and emotionally. That night I was delivered a heavy blow to the gut and needed to sleep to forget about it even for one instant. Boston went to the couch, and I begrudgingly went to share my bed with the man I had seen kissing another man. I laid down with my back to him and tears streaming down my face. I was crushed by what happened. I had no idea what to do. I still had very strong feelings for him, but couldn’t turn a blind eye. It isn’t who i am. I’m no one’s fallback or second best. However, I did know it was certainly not going to be a fun morning for him either…

[twitter-follow screen_name=’onegayatatime’ link_color=’00ccff’

, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

7 Comments