Posts Tagged gay sex
Eye-Contact
Posted by One Gay at a Time in Gay Dating on June 9, 2011
Ever since I joined the gay community, eye-contact has been important to me. From a guy on a date, to the eyes I gaze into during sex, to the guys I check out at the gym, making and reading eye-contact is critical.
My theory on gaydar is simple. Eye-contact. There is eye-contact, and there is eye-contact. If you make eye-contact with a man, and he’s heterosexual, he will slowly look away, and probably not turn back (unless you’re staring like a creeper!).
If you make eye-contact with a man, and he is gay, or possibly in the closet, when he catches your eye, he will quickly turn away. Straight guys will look at you, but then there are that certain few who try and sneak a second look. It’s usually fairly quick, but if you’re sharp you’ll always catch it. For me, the tell is usually the double take. If he’s interested, he will turn back again to see if you’re still looking his way. That’s when you go over and offer him a treat ;).
To the topic, I notice guys who keep me directly in their gaze as well as those who pay attention to me in their periphery. Having any interest in me at all is the giveaway. The straight guys at the gym are just too preoccupied with their little hands or the little girl on the stairclimber to notice I exist.
It’s hard to put it into words. I guess it’s something that you learn to recognize over time. It’s more of an art than a science.
I did read somewhere if a straight guy makes eye-contact, you’re supposed to talk to him calmly and approach slowly….then force him down on his back and rub his belly. Just kidding…
I don’t know. Maybe I’ve put in too much analysis here. Maybe gaydar means you just know, instinctively. Maybe trying to apply behavioral formulas is not what gaydar is all about, and if you don’t get it, well… I guess you just don’t get it.
Eye-contact on a date is equally important. I went on an a4a date recently (you’ll hear about it soon enough) where the guy looked past me for 90% of the date. The only time he made eye-contact were during the quick glances back to me periodically. It was very off-putting, especially since he had such gorgeous eyes! His other body language contradicted his eyes, telling me he was interested and having a good time. I don’t know if it was due to nerves, lack of interest or just a personal flaw, but no matter the reason, I felt ignored for most of the date.
Eye-contact during sex is of the utmost importance to me. I understand the dynamics of sex, and I fully understand when a man needs to page through the bank of hot guys in his head to get off. Things sometimes get stale. Sometimes you need to close your eyes to concentrate. But, if he can’t look me in the eye for more than five seconds without getting uncomfortable, we’ve got a problem.
Sex is intimate. He needs to be there, and he needs to be there with me! When I gaze it his eyes with all the passion of my being, I expect the same in return. Men don’t make it into my bed without a strong connection. I expect the feeling to be mutual.
When Broadway and I first started having sex, I would look into his eyes, and he would look away after a few seconds, as if he was uncomfortable. He could see how much of my heart I was putting out there, and he wasn’t meeting me half way. Because of this, I debated if he was simply using me for sex.
Eventually the eye-contact improved, and we could gaze into each others eyes for long periods of time without uttering a word. But when the eye-contact started to curtail again, I knew the relationship was heading downhill.
San Francisco made great eye contact. We woke in the morning simply staring into each others eyes. We only knew each other a short period of time, but I knew he was a passionate man who gave himself fully into a relationship.
There have been others I’ve slept with since who have great eye-contact. I can not only feel the passion they bring to the bedroom, but I can also see it. It says a lot about a man who can simply gaze into your eyes. His confidence. His tenderness. His passion. These are the men that are keepers to me. It’s all in the eyes.
This is my analysis of eye-contact. I’m sure you have your own, or maybe you completely disagree with me. Feel free to comment and put me in my place.
Follow @onegayatatimeSan Francisco Comes to The Big Apple
Posted by One Gay at a Time in Gay Dating on June 8, 2011
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.
Follow @onegayatatimeLosing My Religion
Posted by One Gay at a Time in Gay Dating on June 7, 2011
Religion is a very important aspect of life for my family. I was raised Catholic and went to mass every Sunday. When I was in high school, I was recruited to be a Eucharistic minister (the person who hands out the communion and the wine at mass). Ironically, as a kid, my mother asked if I wanted to be an alter boy but was quite happy when I declined out of slight fear of a pedophilic priest. In CCD, I was such a religious scholar, other in the class called me “God boy.”
My religious beliefs were part of the reason I struggled with my homosexuality for so long. I had faith in God, and I thought he was testing me. I took it at face value that homosexuality was wrong. The Bible teaches against it, and I have always been taught it was a sin. It was a burden I would have to bear the rest of my life or somehow manage to overcome.
I moved into an apartment my sophomore year of college on a Sunday. I was particularly busy, and I rationalized an excuse for not attending mass. After that, I stopped going to mass every week and believed if I had faith in God and was a moral person, I no longer needed a weekly dose of church. I went when I felt I needed the extra help or when I simply missed the ritual. As I was becoming an adult, I began to own my religion. I’m certainly not as devout a Catholic as my grandmother was. I am a cafeteria Catholic. I pick and choose what aspects of the religion I want to follow.
One of my best friends from college is my freshmen year mentor. He is a Marist Brother, a Catholic congregation dedicated to the Christian education of young people. We have shared a strong bond since I met him and continue to do so. I haven’t yet figured out how to break my news to him or how he’ll take it. I’m not afraid he’ll judge me or anything of the sort. He cares a lot about me and always inquires about my mental, physical and spiritual health. I just need an opportunity to have a heart-to-heart with him. However, he’s like a grandfather to me, so it’s almost as stressful as it was telling my parents.
In my adult life post-graduation, I made every attempt to go to mass weekly. My friends and I went as a group and cooked dinner for each other following services. Ironically enough, dinner was when the gossip about our sex lives flowed freely (mine was nearly non-existent and still with women). When others started falling off from the group, so did I. Once again, I was responsible for my religion, not a priest.
I started having doubts in the Catholic religion when I began to come to the terms with my homosexuality. After I met Broadway, I had a conversation (one-sided of course) with God. Ironically enough, I never felt so close to God as I did in that moment. I simply laid on my bed, and thanked him aloud for allowing me to finally feel comfortable with my true self. I realized being gay was not a choice, not a sin and simply a part of who I am. God loves me regardless. I finally stopped resenting that part of me.
While I have come closer to God through that experience, I’ve become more disenfranchised with the Catholic Church. Who wants to be part of an organization that doesn’t accept him or her? Their congregation has evolved over the years, but the Church has not. Any organism that can’t evolve becomes extinct, and the Catholicism is slowly shrinking in numbers.
Some days I think about marriage. I think about the idea of marriage I once had in my head and how that idea has evolved. Sadly, I will never be married in the eyes of the Church, let alone the state. Honestly, that saddens me greatly. I believe strongly in the sanctity of marriage, even if that marriage is not in the traditional husband and wife. When I make that commitment to a man, it will be ironclad, but it will still be incomplete without the recognition of a congregation of believers.
My belief in God will never wane, but my faith in my fellow man is tested every day. One day, I hope all will be accepting of homosexuals as equals, but until then my relationship with God will have to be exclusive.
There’s nothin’ wrong with lovin’ who you are she said, ” ’cause he made you perfect, babe.” So hold you head, girl, and you’ll go far. Listen to me when I say, “I beautiful in my way, ’cause God makes no mistakes. I’m on the right track baby. I was born this way. Don’t hide yourself in regret. Just love yourself and you’re set. I’m on the right track baby. I was born this way.”
Follow @onegayatatimeStood Up
Posted by One Gay at a Time in Gay Dating on June 6, 2011
I’m not sure what it is about the gay dating world, but no one seems to have a sense of commitment. I can’t tell you how many times I tried to plan a date with a guy I clicked with on adam4adam.com or Grindr, and last minute, they either canceled, or just went completely dark. I have been cancelled on three times as often as I have gone on dates. I know the gay world is more prone to promiscuity, but c’mon guys! Lock it down. Either show up, or be man enough to own up to the reason why you can’t show up.
A little background about me: I’m a very nice and forgiving guy. You really have to screw me over to get me p*ssed off at you. I give countless chances to redeem yourself. I may be a doormat, but I have also found if you give people a second chance, you may be pleasantly surprised.
A few of the guys got more chances than others, quite simply because they were gorgeous. Even if we didn’t hit it off, I wanted to go out with them to just stare at them. Others fell by the wayside after a few attempts. I was getting to the point where I scheduled 2 dates a night because I knew one would back out last minute.
Like with dates, I give roommates more chances than they deserve. Since I moved to Hoboken, I’ve been a revolving door for roommates. I’ve had 11 roommates in 5 years at 2 different apartments. When the time came for my one of my roommates and I to find yet another replacement roommate, I turned to my tried and true friend, Craigslist. At this point, I could be a professional Craigslister. Not only have I written my own posts, but friends have requested I write theirs after their own return no quality results.
One respondent to my ad included his Facebook profile link. When I clicked the link, I immediately noticed how hot he was. He had an amazing body in his shirtless on the beach profile picture. As I scrolled down to the bottom of his info page, I noticed it said, “Interested in men.” I assume the Facebook link was his subtle way of addressing his homosexuality.
This was definitely a pleasant surprise. I was in desperate need of gay friends, and a new gay roommate could be a lot of fun. It would also make the coming out to a new roommate thing less awkward for me.
I reached out to him, and got no response. (Here is where my tenacious personality took over where most would have given up). I sent him an follow-up email explaining I was gay and thought it would be great to have him meet us and check out the apartment. Apparently that was the bait I needed to lure him in. We all clicked, he loved the place and agreed to move in.
When it came time to sign paperwork, all of a sudden, he backed out. He gave me an excuse about the possibility of his job transferring him to North Carolina in a few months.
Fast-forward 6 months later to me cruising Grindr. To my amazement, who do I find? Mr. North Carolina. I sent him a message just saying, “Hey. What’s up?”
He responded, “Hey man. Very hot! What’s going on?”
I debated whether to play games for a little while or to tell him who I was. I responded, “You know me btw…” And I told him who I was.
Ten seconds later, I received a text message from him, “You??? Damn, you look good man!”
We started chatting, and I asked him if he wanted to go out for drinks sometime. I was attracted to him physically, but after he bailed on living with me, unfriended me on Facebook, blocked me on G-chat and AIM and stopped answering my text messages, I wasn’t so sure he was relationship material. I wasn’t expecting anything to happen, but if it did, I probably wouldn’t fight it.
We picked a Friday to go out for happy hour drinks. When 5:00 rolled around, I texted him. Of course, I got complete darkness. No response. No explanation. Finally, I gave up and went home. I texted him on Saturday to see what happened. Instead of just being honest and texting me Friday to say, “Hey, I’m kinda tired. Can we reschedule?” he decided to come up with an elaborate story.
We still texted, but after the second time he bailed on me, I told him the ball was in his court as far as the next time we would hang out.
Later, he texted me about his awkward living situation in which his roommate was sexually harassing him. So, when I got the news of yet another roommate moving out, I reached out to him. He came to Hoboken for a barbeque at my apartment and to hit up the bar scene. We got along great. He agreed to move in. Just goes to show, if you give people another chance, they may surprise you.
Finally, I would have a gay roommate/friend/wingman. However, this of course would pose a whole new load of drama in my life, but that’s another post for another day…
Follow @onegayatatimeHuman Resources Part II
Posted by One Gay at a Time in Gay Dating on June 3, 2011
This is a follow-up post to the earlier “Round 2” post…
HR and I were finally able to set a time to go on a second date.
This time, we agreed to go to Industry, a popular gay club in Hell’s Kitchen, after work. I had never been before, but this was happy hour on a Monday, so my fear of gay clubs was a little easier to get over.
I walked uptown to his office and waited for him to finish his workday. When he came down, I noticed he obviously changed his clothes. He wore a suit to work every day, and today, he was wearing very tight brown pants and a polo shirt. He looked gayer than a $2 bill. Yes, I know how bad that sounds.
Thinking back, I think it was then I realized we weren’t a match. Maybe that makes me shallow, but I’m really more into masculine guys. However, I still didn’t completely write him off.
We got our drinks and found a comfortable couch to relax on in the back of the bar. We talked casually, facing each other. I was trying to convey a more flirtatious body language. I could tell he was doing the same. After some time passed, I placed my hand on his leg when talking to show my interest.
Out of the blue, one of the drag performers began practicing “her” sets. Drag queens make me feel very uncomfortable, but I’m cool with them as long as they don’t try to interact with me. I don’t need to be a part of the show. When I thought it couldn’t get more awkward, the drag queen came on in nothing but a feather boa barely covering the necessary parts. HR and I discussed drag queens and our feelings about them. I respect them and their choice. I admire their confidence in themselves and their apathy towards others’ judgement.
We talked more, but then the night began to get a lot more physical. At one point, I just went in for the kill. We were facing each other, and I took the opportunity to kiss him. After our missed opportunity to kiss last time, I decided one of us needed to make a move. I usually never have the courage to do so, but tonight, I was properly lubricated and just went for it.
We spent a majority of the rest of the night kissing and cuddling. He had his hand in the top of my polo and was rubbing my chest. He expressed how much he enjoyed it, and said, “Even if you tell me to stop, I don’t think I will. Your chest feels too good.” I was enjoying it, so he had no complaints from me.
Before we knew it, it was 11:30. I couldn’t believe how late it was, and I needed to get home. He both walked over to 9th Avenue, kissed, said goodnight and went our separate ways.
I expressed how good of a time I had that evening, and we talked about seeing each other again…
Follow @onegayatatimeFinally Taking Boston Out for Steak Dinner
Posted by One Gay at a Time in Gay Dating on June 2, 2011
News flash: Started a new Twitter feed. Follow me @onegayatatime for up-to-date tweets about my gay dating life…
On with the show…
When the opportunity arose for me to accompany my company’s U.S.A. CEO on a speaking engagement at Boston College, I jumped at it. I would finally get to go visit Boston.
I reached out to him as soon as I heard about the possibility to see if he was available. I made arrangements to spend the night at his apartment if I was able to come up the night before the speech. I asked if I could crash on his couch. He told me how ungodly uncomfortable it was and offered to dust off his air mattress for me.
To be honest, in my head, I was considering the possibility of both options looking slightly old fashioned, and he would offer to share his bed with me. I certainly wasn’t expecting anything sexual to happen, but was not opposed to the idea of cuddling. In the meantime, I met San Francisco, and it became much more evidently clear Boston was not interested in a relationship.
The point of sleeping arrangements became moot when an overnight stay was necessary for me as far as the company was concerned. I booked a hotel room near his apartment and made arrangements to meet him after the speech for dinner. I was finally going to be able to make good on my offer to take him out to dinner, even if it was just as friends.
We met at my hotel and strolled along until we found a suitable restaurant. My CEO suggested Abe and Louie’s, so we ate there. We sat, and the conversation flowed like water downhill. We dove right in and got caught up on each other’s lives since we last saw each other in Miami. We had spoken online and on the phone, but there were more details to discuss.
I told him about the few dates I went on, the guys I was talking to on adam4adam.com, downloading Grindr, etc. He was a little surprised by my embracing of these social media as a way of finding suitable men. He told me about his dates and his love life. The whole time we talked, I was mesmerized by his smile and kept thinking how great his lips would feel again. I had to put the thought out of my head though. We were now good friends, I was interested in San Francisco and another long distance relationship should not be in my plans.
We stayed and chatted until we realized everyone else in the restaurant left. We both would have stayed there for another two hours if we could. When we walked back to my hotel, I probably should have invited him in since we both still wanted to chat longer. However, I had a 4:00am departure for the airport. I also wasn’t sure how he’d react to my inviting him in. Instead, we discussed him coming to New York to visit, we exchanged a nice hug and we went out separate ways.
Now, when I have a story to share with someone or just need to talk, I call Boston. Last time we were on the phone for almost an hour. He’s a great friend and couldn’t be more pleased to have him in my life.
I’m still looking forward to his visit to my neighborhood.
Chlamydia
Posted by One Gay at a Time in Gay Dating on June 1, 2011
This is the hardest blog entry for me to write because it reveals the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to me, so I’m going to keep it short. Many of my closest friends do no know this, so I am sure I will get many lectures and comments after posting this. But in the honesty of my blog, I owe it to my readers to be completely forthcoming.
When I went to San Francisco, I had unprotected sex. THAT IS THE SINGLE DUMBEST THING I HAVE EVER DONE IN MY LIFE. Regardless of consequences, I will never allow myself to get into that situation again! I felt so comfortable with the man I met there, but how could I be so stupid. I even had a condom in my valet bag.
The day I got back to New Jersey, I went to the local hospital clinic and had an HIV test. Luckily, it came back negative. I was sweating bullets while I waited for the result. At the time I thought I walked away unscathed, but would later realize the consequences of my actions. On a side note, these days, you can get a free HIV cheek swab test at countless locations. There is NO excuse not to get tested regularly.
I also want to use my mistake as a teaching experience for others. I was under the impression you could only contract things like chlamydia if you were “receiving.” I was wrong. Even if you are the one “giving,” you can still contract an array of diseases you never even want to think about.
The problem came about when I noticed a slight burning during urination that eventually evolved into a discharge. I apologize for the graphic description, but again, I hope others can learn from this. I went to the doctor and was prescribed three different drugs and a urine and blood analysis. He topped it off with numerous lectures simply stated, “Always use a condom!” All of which I deserved. After a few days, time away from work to see the doctor, money for the prescriptions and a lot of stress, everything cleared up.
I tracked the contraction back to San Francisco. He was the only man I had sex with since breaking up with the guy I was dating. Since we were in a long-term relationship, we had unprotected sex, but the timing was nearly impossible for it to be Broadway. We were both tested regularly and had built up enough trust to make that step. San Francisco assured me he was recently tested as HIV negative and disease-free, but apparently, he was mistaken. We never discussed the infection. I’m not sure if he had symptoms on his end and would blame me, but he was, without a doubt, the source of my problem.
Do yourself a favor. Do your homework about the consequences of bothunprotected and protected sex, and ALWAYS USE A CONDOM!
Making It Work
Posted by One Gay at a Time in Gay Dating on May 31, 2011
When I got home from my business trip San Francisco, I was still reeling from my time with the man I met there. I couldn’t stop thinking about him and how close we grew in a matter of hours. From the moment I touched down in New Jersey, we were texting or talking on the phone. I couldn’t get enough of him.
I knew in my head it was crazy. We were on completely opposite coasts of the U.S. — Three time zones away. Him, a 34 year-old from Hawaii, and me, a 27 year-old from Pennsylvania. There were so many reasons why anything between us wouldn’t work.
But, at the time, I had no love interests in my life. There were a few adam4adam.com guys I talked to and set up dates (4 set up in 4 days), but who knew if the connections would be so strong. Subsequently, I compared every date to my first date with San Francisco.
I decided to send him flowers that Monday. I never sent anyone flowers before, let alone a man. But, I was a stranger visiting a city I’d never been to before, and he welcomed me in with open arms… and then some.
When the florist delivered them to his office, coworkers saw and flocked to his office to ask who they were from. He read the card that said, “I left a piece of my heart in San Francisco. Take care of it until I get back.” One of his coworkers wandered in and said, “Wow! Big night this weekend?”
San Francisco replied, “You actually met him. He’s the guy from the bar on Wednesday.” His coworker was impressed.
He called immediately to thank me. I could hear his smile in his voice as we spoke on the phone. He was so happy, and I was so happy he was getting all the attention of his coworkers. It was my main goal to make him the center of attention and realize how loved he was.
We talked every night since I left. He would call when he finished work, and we would talk for hours. That night, after telling him how much I missed him, I told him I wanted to try to make it work. I couldn’t believe how strong our connection was, and I had to at least put in the effort to know if this relationship had two legs to stand on. I think he was touched, and fully dove in head first with me on the venture.
Over the next few nights, I taught him how to skype. We could now see each other as we talked. Eventually, we began watching TV together. Since we shared such a connection over Brothers & Sisters, every Monday night, we would watch that week’s episode together. Anything we could do to make it a stronger relationship. We became Facebook friends, and I also taught him about gchat, so we could talk at work throughout the day. I got a text every morning saying, “Good morning.” And however we ended the day, I would get a, “Sweet dreams.”
We were both happy. The distance was a burden, but we were managing.
We started planning a trip for him to come visit New York. He lived here for 10 years. He had a lot of friends here he hadn’t seen in three years. In my head, he would come visit in May, and come June, I would trek out there again, this time for pleasure. If these trips worked out, there was no stopping us. But we would cross those bridges as they came.
I didn’t know what this was. We put no label on it. But I knew he made me happy. That was all that mattered to me. And, I couldn’t wait for his arrival!
Memorial Gay
Posted by One Gay at a Time in Gay News on May 30, 2011
In memory of all the gay activists who have died in battle and the countless who have succumbed to suicide in hope of ending their pain…
Watch this commercial if you haven’t already. It’s so inspiring it gives me goosebumps!
www.itgetsbetter.org/
The Wild Card
Posted by One Gay at a Time in Gay Dating on May 27, 2011
WednesGAY lunch in the park…
Of the four dates I set up for the week, this one scared me the most. He was truly a wild card. He was gorgeous in his pictures — like model hot — but we only scratched the surface the few times we spoke on adam4adam.com.
When he told me his name, I was quite confused. In his pictures, he looked white, but his name sounded Middle Eastern. Only now, from googling the origin of his name, did I find it is of Spanish origin and not very popular.
I asked him for his number and if we could grab a drink sometime after work. He told me he doesn’t drink. Normally, this may have been a deal breaker for me, but I was beginning to enjoy my new dating adventures. Good or bad, they were experiences and something interesting to talk about with friends (Again, this is also when I thought I had an idea to start a blog). So I decided to be open-minded. I asked him where he worked, and he told me from home, by Bryant Park. So, I asked if we could do lunch one day. He suggested Cosi for lunch since it was nearby my office, his apartment and the park.
It was a gorgeous Wednesday after many days of cold and clouds. I was happy to be spending time outside. I walked to Cosi, texting him on my way. I wasn’t getting a response. Finally, after standing on the street for about 5 minutes, he texted me explaining he was en route and would arrive shortly.
When he arrived, I could tell he was quite flustered and sweating. Even through all that, I could see a beautiful man standing in front of me with flowing curly hair. Very dreamy. Also a bit intimidating. Towering over me, he was about 6’4″ or 6’5″ (I’m 6’2″ and intimidated by people taller than me since it happens so rarely). He apologized profusely for being late in an accent I was not able to place. He told me he would explain his tardiness when we sat down to eat. We hopped in line, ordered our lunch and walked across the street to the park. Ironically, I would later find out weeks later I was spotted while eating lunch by a fellow Grindr I was courting.
He told me he was on the upper west side on his scooter and was pulled over for not having the proper decals on his plate. It all clicked in my head why I wasn’t getting a phone call or text explaining why he was running late. Luckily, the cop let him off, but not before giving him a hard time. I then asked him what he did that allowed him to work from home every day. He gave me an awkward smile, and said, “Well I don’t work. I’m a landlord.”
I replied, “Not a bad gig. I’d kill to do that!”
He then explained he is originally from Miami and owns a few rental properties there. This was his source of income and allowed him to live a life of daily freedom. After he asked, I explained what I do for a living.
We started talking candidly about dating in NYC and in general. We talked about the challenges and pitfalls of trying to find someone to spend time with. Too many people are just simply looking for sex. He said, “We all have sexual needs, but it’s really challenging when you’re trying to find a meaningful relationship.”
At this point, between his pleasant disposition and his amazing looks, I was very interested. He also had an innocence about him that was very intriguing. On top of that, I couldn’t help myself. I was staring at his sexy jawline, his dreamy eyes and the flowing hair he continuously pushed behind his ear.
We talked about being from Miami and why he moved to NYC. He did it alone because he’s always wanted to live here and wanted a challenge. I admired this greatly. I myself have always considered moving to California, but don’t have the guts to start over. His courage was admirable and sexy. He elaborated. He told me about the man he left in Miami. They had been together for almost 10 years. “Pretty much husband and husband,” as he put it. He left him behind because he was not willing to move to New York. He needed to do this for himself — to find himself, so he left.
This was a bit of a curveball I wasn’t expecting. I tried to change the subject to something lighter. I asked him where he lives. He pointed out his apartment from where we were sitting. An apartment overlooking Bryant park is more than impressive. I asked him what he does for fun in his free time. I learned he lives a very European lifestyle. Grocery shopping all over the city on a daily basis, cooking meals, reading, traveling… He then went on to tell me he has a house in the mountains and loves to ski. And when he’s not there, he’s traveling out to his new LA apartment to get that in shape.
And all of a sudden, the dream came crashing down. We were not compatible. We came from different worlds. I admired his lifestyle and aspired to it, but I would not be someone’s kept man. He had so much freedom, a relationship with me would hold him back and create resentment. On top of that, my lunch hour was over.
We were both headed in the same direction, so we started to walk. The date ended without even a hug. I figured he wasn’t interested in me, and I lost interest when I realized how different our lives are. He suggested we do lunch again sometime, and I agreed. At this point, I considered putting him in the “friend zone.”
Sadly, we have not kept in touch since then, and I don’t know how well it would be received if I attempted to reach out to him now…
At 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 