Posts Tagged New York
Gay Terminology
Posted by One Gay at a Time in Gay Dating on June 20, 2011
When I was single and “straight,” I used to think about how gay men would react to me when I came out. I kinda always knew I’d be a catch. Now, it’s a little out of control. I have been propositioned by sooo many men on Grindr and adam4adam.com. I’m not tooting my own horn here. I recognize the quality of men admiring me. And, quantity does not make up for the lack of quality.
Many of the messages I receive are easily understood, such as:
Would you let a dude lick ur feet for cash? $200 U come in, we watch porn, I lick and massage ur feet. I jack off… U sit back and relax. No other touching… and also…
Wanna come over and breed me?… A bunch of guys are gonna take turns with me. Want in?… (After some time passed with no response from me) Guy who was gonna host can’t anymore. Wanna breed me?
Some take it even further to illustrate their point.
Let me show you what’s gonna happen… (Picture of his massive black dick) U gonna need stitches!
Some of the messages and profiles I see are not so easily deciphered. Things like, looking for? Looking for what? Does this mean what am I into? Are you asking me if I’m looking for a hookup or a relationship? Just ask the question you want an answer to. I’m already in the dark about so much in the gay culture. Code and cryptic messages aren’t helping!
This is where you come in. I’m enlisting the help of everyone who reads my blog/tweets to compile a gay dictionary. I’m new to this game, so things like “M4M” confuse me. I know it means man for man, but when you’re on a gay app, why would you feel the need to say that? Did you mean something else? Obviously, I need someone to help me decode the lingo.
What’s a power-bottom, and how is it different from a regular bottom? I’m so lost!
I tried doing my own research for many of the terms I’ve come across, but this was an overwhelming task.
So I’m asking you to think about the gay terms you see or use and define them in the comments for me. Thanks!
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Posted by One Gay at a Time in Gay Dating on June 17, 2011
It’s amazing what the power of suggestion can do to you. All it takes is for someone to put an idea in your head, and you are rendered incapacitated. It can consume you and become all you think about. This power was wielded over me by who other than the 40 y.o.
Following my birthday weekend, I reserved Sunday night to sit my single ass on the couch and catch up on the DVR. I was all but finished watching everything I taped the week before when I got a a text message from the 40 y.o. “Recover from your birthday present? Want another bj?”
That’s all it took. The seed was planted. My mind raced back to the last time he came by, and all I could think about was how good it felt. I told him to come by my apartment. When he asked if I could come to his place, I became a little uneasy. I wasn’t sure about not being on my home turf. He wanted to host because he was doing laundry and packing for a business trip the next day and he “figured I’d take a break to blow you. lol.”
I explained to him I felt more comfortable in my own setting. To which he responded, “Understand. It’ll just have to be a raincheck then. I’ll be back in a few days.”
That’s where he had me. I lost the upper hand, and he knew it. I would either have to come to him, or I would have to wait for the blowjob that was just planted into my brain.
I tried my hand at being clever to lure him to my apartment. “Put a load in… Then I’ll put a load in, and you’ll be back just in time to switch it over. You know you want to.”
My tricks didn’t work. “I have to be smart. I have to be up for an early train. Guess I’ll have to watch porn and spank it.”
We sparred back-and-forth with our words, both trying to convince the other to come to them. Just when I had him convinced to make the 7 block trek to my apartment, one of my roommates came home. I was so close, and yet so far away. With that, I finally agreed to go to his place. He lives in the same building as one of my friends, and I needed to drop something off at her apartment.
When I arrived, he gave me a hug. He proceeded to show me around his apartment, the whole time playing with himself in his gym shorts. Finally he pulled me into his bedroom and sat me down on the bed. He pulled my shorts down just enough so he could get working on me. I took his shirt off and began to play with his nipples. We were both enjoying ourselves. He pulled off his shorts and sat naked on the hardwood. His member was BIG just as I remembered from the first time, however, he never got fully erect. I remembered this from our first encounter and how worried I was it would happen to me at the age of 40.
Then he did something that both shocked and disgusted me. He pulled out a small bottle, untwisted the cap, held it to his nose and heavily snorted in each nostril. I don’t have a lot of experience with drugs, so I wasn’t fully aware of what was going on.
I didn’t really want to look at him anymore. I told him to come up on the bed so I could lay back. He disagreed and said he wanted to stay on the floor. I complied.
It wasn’t much longer before my whole body was tingling, and I was ready to finish. I let him know how close I was by the volume of my moaning. He pulled me in deeper and took everything I had to give. When I was depleted, he commented, “Wow, that was a lot!”
I responded with the only thing I could think of. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you…”
He walked into his bathroom to rinse his mouth as I got dressed. When he came back into the bedroom, he pulled on his shorts and shirt and said, “I’ll walk out with you. I need to take the dog for a walk.”
As we walked down the stairs, we discussed the noise level of his neighbors. I began to wonder about his noise level. That’s when the thought crossed my mind, how many of “us” are there in his roster?
We got outside, and I said goodbye to both him and the dog. On that walk home, I was still feeling euphoric from the bj, but I also decided this was the last time I would have a sexual encounter with the 40 y.o. It was fun, but there were too many things about the whole situation that made me uncomfortable.
After that, he began stalking me on Grindr — heavily. After some time, I blocked him so he could no longer track my whereabouts. For a little while, I would respond to his text messages, but as of late, I’ve taken to simply ignoring him. I’m dreading the day I run into him on the street.
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Posted by One Gay at a Time in Gay Dating on June 16, 2011
My “Birthday Weekend” status in Grindr was producing an exorbitant amount of hits. Men were throwing themselves at me left and right for no other reason than the fact that I provided them material for an opening line. Almost every message was “want a birthday blowjob?” or “how bout some birthday sex?”
After my encounter with the 40 y.o., I couldn’t tell if I was excited or scared. It awakened something deep inside me. I craved the promiscuity of these random encounters. I wanted more. On the flip-side, they scared the hell out of me. I had no idea who I was meeting or what they could do to me.
The Saturday following my birthday, I went back to my favorite bar with my friends. I was on the hunt. It was my birthday, I was single, and I was horny. Grindr was my best friend all night. I didn’t stop checking it.
One guy in particular was very persistent with his messages. We exchanged a few messages back-n-forth throughout the night. He wanted to meet somewhere. When I told him I was going home for the night, he was insistent upon coming over. We could not meet at his place because his roommates didn’t know he was gay, and he was very worried whether or not my roommates were home. I assuaged his fears, explaining they were both already sleeping in bed.
Since it began to rain, he insisted I meet him half way and walk back to my apt together. This was beginning to become more work than it was worth. Finally, I convinced him to come to my door and text when he arrived. Yes, I gave him my phone number. I’m slowly learning I need to be much more contentious about giving that out.
I had seen his picture on Grindr, but when I walked down to the front door of my apartment building, I was shocked at what I saw. This is going to sound very shallow, but I’m just being honest. He was fat. And, I don’t mean husky or chubby. I can deal with that. He was F-A-T fat. I’m sorry if this offends people, but it’s just not my type. I take very good care of my body, and I am attracted to men who do the same. I was immediately turned off, but I’m not the kind of guy who just slams the door on someone who walked through the rain to come “pleasure” me.
When I opened the door, he quickly but quietly came rushing in. He looked panicked, like his parents just walked in on him having sex. When he explained why he was in a rush, I couldn’t help but notice how flamboyant he was. There was no way in hell his roommates didn’t know he was gay. It was written all over his body language. We walked up the stairs to my apartment, quietly opened the door and crept in silently. Silently until he allowed the metal door to slam behind him. Now, he looked like he was ready to sprint back down the stairs. After the 40 y.o., this felt like old hat. I wasn’t nervous at all.
We walked back to my bedroom and closed the door. I have never seen anyone strip down so fast in my life. I began to do the same, at which point he decided to help me along. He was sprinting, when sex is meant to be a long distance run at the least.
We started with the heavy petting. He felt like ziplocs full of pudding. On top of that, he was all over. He never stayed in one place for more than a second. I was so confused. I felt like I was going through a car wash. After some making out, heavy petting, oral pleasure and grinding, he turned onto his back and began masturbating. In my confusion and lack of a better idea, I did the same. He finished rather quickly, and I got him a towel. He started to rubbing me all over again. If anything it was a major distraction, not help. He asked if I was going to finish. At this point, I was so fed up with him I replied, “No. It’s going to take me longer.”
Much to my dismay, but also my pleasure, he responded, “Ok, well I’m gonna go. I have to get back before my roommates notice I am gone.”
As quickly as he removed the, he put his clothes back on, put on his shoes and quickly shuffled down the hall and out the door.
To date, this was the worst “hook up” I have ever participated in. To top it off, he continued to text me over the next few weeks. And if the whole situation wasn’t awkward enough, I found myself standing next to him and his friend on the PATH train one day. I kept my head buried in my newspaper and darted out the door the second they opened. To this day, I still get offended every time he texts, but I have yet to respond to a single one.
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Breaking San Francisco’s Heart
Posted by One Gay at a Time in Gay Dating on June 14, 2011
After San Francisco’s visit, I realized we were not compatible. He had quite a few skeletons in his closet. And, it wasn’t the skeletons that bothered me most. What bothered me most was the feeling he was hiding all these secrets. So many past relationships with such a diverse crowd of men much older than I, drug use, some cross-dressing, etc. We come from different worlds, on top of the fact that he lived on the other side of the country.
After playing it cool for a week, I decided to end it, or at least find a way to morph it into a friendship. I spent the week being slightly less available to his phone calls, instant messages, etc. I was doing all the cowardly things I preach against. If I were a real man, I would have told him while he was still in New York, before he went home. Apparently, I need to grow a pair before I tell everyone else to.
Furthermore, I decided to clue him in on my feelings with a text message. I’m such a coward. I wasn’t about to “break up” with him over text, but I couldn’t bring myself to pick up the phone and say it all out loud. Pretending like everything was okay was really getting to me. I don’t do the charades very well. Especially after spending 26 years in the closet. Life’s too short to pretend anymore. So, I sent the following textwhile walking through the mall with my friend:
Hey. I think we need to talk about things. I had a really great time with you out there and when you came to visit, but I just don’t think I’m cut out for the distance thing. I ended my last relationship because I never got to see him, and it appears I’ve gotten myself into the same situation… It’s really been wearing on me over the past few weeks. You are the biggest sweetheat I’ve ever met! You deserve someone you can be with… I have no regrets and hope that you will still want to be a part of my life as a very special friend I cherish forever… I hope you understand!
I didn’t tell him it was because of all of the hidden facets of his life I discovered when he came to visit. I didn’t think it was necessary. The distance thing had already gotten to me before he even stepped foot on a plane. That was the root of the issue. The others were just what made me step into action on ending whatever it is we had.
He responded, I felt like something was up. Can you talk now?
I replied back, I figured you would… I can’t now… Out with friends, but we can talk later…
He took the opportunity to respond with his feelings and sentiments:
I understand. I always say people come into our lives for a reason… You have taught me how good it feels to love regardless of age, distance, and future. Love knows nothing, except how happy one can be. I took a chance to open my heart and have no regrets. Boo, I know distance did not change how happy you made me every time I was with you, texting, skyping or just thinking of you. We both deserve someone to be with, and I hope you find somoene who will always cherish every minute with you as much as I did. A hui ho, 😉 (Hawaiin for until we meet again).
I told him he is the sweetest man I have ever met in my life and apologized if I hurt him. To which he responded, You have a piece of my heart, and I have a piece of yours, so we will always be connected. And will cherish your friendship. Let’s talk later.
We did speak later on the phone. He understood where I was coming from, and he agreed on many points.
We still talk to each other periodically. For a while, it was still uncomfortable because he sent me messages telling me he missed me. Now, he’ll message me to ask what I have planned for the weekend or to ask how my day’s going. We’ve talked about dates we’ve gone on with other people as well. Recently, he had to find a new roommate. Turns out the new roommate’s name is the same as mine, which is not very common. I guess it’s safe to say I’ve officially been replaced.
We will forever be friends, and I do cherish his friendship. And, maybe, one day our paths will cross again…
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Lunch on Broadway
Posted by One Gay at a Time in Gay Dating on June 13, 2011
Broadway and I have been civil since our breakup. Periodically, he messages me, mainly after he reads a misconstrued or particularly positive Facebook status update. He always messages me to make sure everything is okay or to congratulate me. It’s very nice to know he still cares enough about me to reach out with concern/praise.
When he asked me to find time for the two of us to meet up, I graciously agreed. Over two months had passed. And, it had been a while since we fully caught up with each other’s lives, and I hadn’t seen him since we broke up (with the exception of his profile on adam4adam.com and Grindr). A little part of me missed him too.
I really enjoyed the lunch I had from Cosi when I met “The Wild Card” in Bryant park, so I suggested we do that. We met in front of Cosi. He warned me on the phone beforehand he injured his ankle and was wearing a boot. When he hobbled up to me, I couldn’t help but smile. It truly was good to see him. The feelings of a relationship did not come rushing back. I didn’t miss him like an ex. I missed him like a friend who moved away and I hadn’t seen in a while. We kissed each other on the lips and gave each other a hug.
I have seen so many gay men kiss their friends on the lips, especially when San Francisco came to visit, and I have always felt slightly uneasy about it. I could not put myself in that position. I have just a few gay friends, and we do not greet each other in this way. I also don’t kiss my female friends in this way when we greet each other. I don’t know if all the men I’ve seen were in previous relationships with each other, or that’s just a gay culture norm. But, it felt right to kiss Broadway on the lips. We’d done it so many times before, not doing it would feel strange.
After our hug and peck, we went in to Cosi. Broadway and I have a bit of history with Cosi. We’d eaten there many times, and he even used to work at one when he first moved to NYC from California. It felt a bit like old times, but once again, not like we were simply picking back up where we left off. We got our food, and we made our way into the park to find a table to sit and chat. I helped him get settled in since he was slightly immobilized.
He immediately started with, “So, what’s new?”
I began to tell him about work, and how things were goingin my life. I avoided discussing the dates I had gone on, as well as the fact that I was on a4a.
I asked about what was new in his life. He told me about his new roommate situation and how the dynamic between his friends deteriorated. He told me about how he was possibly pitching a pilot to the L.O.G.O. Network from one of his college courses. He told me how he injured his foot, and what that meant as far as his show was concerned. He always joked about wanting to get injured in the summer so he could live on Fire Island during his recovery. I said, “Well, you got what you always wanted!” All in all, he seemed very happy with life.
As the conversation progressed, I could tell he was pressing to see if I was dating anyone. I decided to tell him about San Francisco, especially since I was beginning to have serious doubts about any possibility of us continuing our relationship anyway. After I told him about all those doubts, I could see it in his face. He looked at me with this “get out now” look. And, it wasn’t a jealous look. It was a “just lookin’ out for ya” kind of exchange.
We both finished our sandwich/salad, and it was time for me to head back to work. My hour was up. As we began to leave the park, I realized how easygoing our lunch date was. I was slightly worried early on it might be awkward but not the case. The conversation flowed smoothly, and I don’t think anyone got their feelings hurt. It was good progress.
I expressed my pleasure with the lunch, and I suggested we do it again and more often. We obviously got along well and enjoyed each other’s company. There is no reason why we shouldn’t spend more time together. I expressed this sentiment, and he agreed happily. And, with that, we head our separate ways.
That reminds me. I think I owe him a phone call…
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Dumping HR
Posted by One Gay at a Time in Gay Dating on June 10, 2011
I had two good dates with HR. There were no fireworks, but after our make-out session at Industry, there could be a connection there.
After closer examination, I came to the realization we weren’t a good fit for each other. We had a lot of common interests, but there was nothing about him that made me yearn for more.
I had to bite the bullet and tell him. Because I was having a busy week, I kept putting off the call. It was awkward, and any excuse I could muster to not call was a good one.
Finally, I got to the point where I realized I was dragging this out far too long. I decided to just text him and explain the situation. I was worried he would be offended I was telling him this over text since he was a classy guy, but I thought it was better than putting it off any longer.
“Hey man. I know I owe you a text or a call. I’m not the type to just fall off the face of the earth… You’re a really nice guy, and I had fun, but I just don’t think you’re what I’m looking for right now. Sorry! I hope you understand…”
I was out with friends for trivia at a local bar in Hoboken when I sent the text. As soon as I sent it, I felt a burden lift and began to enjoy my night out.
While I ate my dinner, I got a reply from HR.
“No worries. Thanks for letting me know. I had fun too, but agree we’re not a match. Best of luck to you in everything.”
I turned to my friends with a smile on my face and said, “See! Why can’t they all be this easy!” showing them the text on my phone. They all laughed because they could sympathize with the uncomfortable situation. They’d all been there before at some point.
Every date I go on teaches me something new. I’m glad I went out with HR, but I’m also glad I could realize when a relationship wouldn’t have legs to stand on. I’m also proud of myself for having the confidence to realize there are other guys out there who may be a much better fit for me.
And with that, I was back out in the dating pool.
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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 @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 