Posts Tagged nice

Southern Hospitality

After my lukewarm date with the doctor, I was ready to get back out there in search for a man.

I’m happy to report, which I’m sure some of you may have suspected otherwise, I was doing a great job of staying off Grindr. Granted, it was a short period of time, but I was thoroughly proud of myself. I felt like I’d joined GA. Every day not having meaningless sex was another day of Grindr sobriety.

Tuesday after work, I arranged another date with Southern Drawl. The last date was a bit crazy. Footsie under the table. Shenanigans in the bathroom. I was curious if he’d be able to behave this time or would he be looking for another quick trip to the bathroom.

We texted during the day to lock things down. I proposed The Breslin. I’d always loved their food, their drinks and their ambiance. He shot the idea down because he said the place was always full of hipsters. I had always been a fan of Sala 19 in the Flatiron District, so I proposed we go there for dinner. It worked out well because it was halfway between our offices. He agreed.

I had to wait at work for him to finish. When he did, I made my way south to meet him. I met him on the street corner, and we walked to the restaurant.

Dinner was very nice. He was well-behaved, and the conversation was good. I told him about my allergist appointment, and he told me about his day. We talked frankly about our last date. We discussed what went on. I learned he’d never done anything like that before. I was also learning about the guys he’d dated since living in New York City. When we originally spoke on the phone, I was under the impression he was new to the gay world. I thought he’d never really dated anyone before. Now, I was learning about all the guys he dated in NYC, as well as the guy he dated through college that he said I so strongly reminded him of and resembled. It was a bit unsettling.

In the middle of dinner, he told me he’d ended things with the guy he was seeing. He explained they’d only been seeing each other for two weeks, and things were never that strong. When I probed him to ask if he left the other guy because he met me or if he did it because he wasn’t satisfied with the previous guy, he told me it was the latter, but part of it was also due to meeting me. A big red flag went off in my head. Would he leave me for a better model?

I still wasn’t sure about him. I liked talking to him. I liked being with him. He was smart. He was nice. He wasn’t flamboyant, however, I wondered if maybe he was too “straight.” He was a bit homophobic. I’m not the most open about my sexuality. I’m not out to everyone at work. I don’t openly advertise my sexuality. However, if he wasn’t comfortable with himself, how could we be comfortable with each other. I couldn’t be sure about him. Was he right for me? I had no idea. Only more time could tell. I was keeping a distance as we moved forward. We had a connection, but was it strong enough to last? Was it what I wanted?

In our conversations, his southern entitlement shined through. It was an incredible turnoff. Where was the southern charm I’d seen so many times in movies. When I think of the ideal man, I think of Matthew McConaughey. He definitely has an ego and self-confidence, but he also exudes charm and sexuality. His confidence is not in your face, and he seems down-to-earth. Southern Drawl fit the other Hollywood archetype — The Southern plantation owner. He had an air or superiority that was hard to swallow. Many times, he laughed off these comments, making them seem like a joke, but I wondered if there was really something deep down that was more genuine. I wasn’t ready to date a snob. That $hit wouldn’t fly with me. I wasn’t going to let him get away with it, and I’d already started calling him on it.

When we finished eating, we split the bill and walked north to the PATH station. I said goodbye to him ont he street with barely a hug. He was uncomfortable exchanging a kiss with me in front of a city of strangers. I wasn’t thrilled by that.

On my ride home, I questioned why I was continuing to see Southern Drawl. He was definitely interested in me, and I was still intrigued by him. I wasn’t ready to write him off just yet, but I didn’t see a lot of promise or potential. I would continue to see other men and continue to see him until I was ready to make a definitive decision.

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Why Do I Make Such Poor Decisions?

Another Friday, and I used up yet another carryover vacation day. This one would kick off a staycation lasting over week long. I was beholden to no schedule and no one.

Once again, I woke up horny and turned to my go-to. I fired up Grindr and began to search for someone to satisfy the animal within. When over an hour passed by and had no luck, I turned to my computer. I checked adam4adam.com for any messages. I had a few, but no one seemed to be around for the day. I cast out a net to see what was out there. I began messaging some of the guys who lived in Hoboken and the surrounding area. Some of the guys were online, many were not.

After some time, I got some responses. I exchanged messages with a few guys, but they were all preoccupied or messaging me from work on their phone. This was turning out to be a bust, and I’d already wasted hours doing this. Geez, what was I doing with my life! But, I was still horny. Rather than turn to porn and finish myself off, I continued to search.

Then, out of the blue, a guy, who had messaged me many times before, sent me a message. He was horny and looking for fun. His profile was pretty bare, which is why I’d rejected him so many times before. However, this time I was a bit “desperate.”

I responded to his message and learned he lived close by. We talked about what he was looking for. I learned he was a “hungry bottom.” He was looking for some no-strings-attached action, and I was too. I told him to come by my place.

Half an hour later, he buzzed my apartment. When I answered the door, I was a little shocked. He was much smaller than he looked in the pictures. This is not at all what I was expecting. I don’t mean to sound racist here, only descriptive. He was a tiny little Mexican boy. He told me he was 29, but he looked about 18.

This is where I go wrong. Where I should be able to say, “Sorry. I don’t think I can do this,” I don’t because I feel bad they came all the way to my place. Why is this when the nice side of me decides to show its face?

I tell him to come in and show him to my bedroom. He immediately asks me again, “Are you clean?” I reassure him of my negative and clean status. I was a little relieved by his paranoia – It made for a stronger argument that he himself was clean and afraid of contracting something. At least I knew this guy was safe.

Warning: The following may be too graphic for some. With that, he undid my pants and began orally pleasuring me. He had a mint in his mouth, and this was certainly a new one for me. Everything tingled. I’m still not sure if this was a good thing or a bad thing. I’m also still not sure if he did it on purpose, or if he just happened to be concerned with his fresh breath.

After a short while, he turned around and began to grind his a$$ in my crotch. He asked me to get a condom and lube. He was bent over the foot of my bed while I penetrated him. He thoroughly enjoyed it. He told me to keep going until I finished. “I’m here to serve you,” he added. “I want you to finish inside me.” I wasn’t sure this was a request I could fulfill. I have enough of a problem finishing without the added hindrance of the condom’s desensitizing nature. I alternated between penetration and self stimulation to see if I could manage to finish, but it was no use. Finally, with the right combination, I ripped off the condom and finished all over his back, accidentally hitting him in the back of the head with a shot. He began to spread it around when I told him I would get him a towel. He didn’t seem to mind nor need one, but I insisted on wiping what was left of my DNA off his back. He was going to find it to be an incredibly uncomfortable ride home in the car if I didn’t.

He turned and asked if he could suck on my toes. I’d never had that request live in person before, but I was game. After my toes were thoroughly bathed, while he pleasured himself to no finish, he collected his clothes and got dressed. I saw him to the door, and with that, he was gone.

I felt so disgusting. I didn’t waste one more second before jumping in the shower. Everything I did was safe, but I still felt incredibly dirty. I needed to wash the shame down the drain as well. I found myself asking the question once again, “What the f*ck are you doing!?” I decided then and there I wasn’t going to turn this into a trend over my staycation. I was going to turn things around. This staycation was going to be all about me bettering myself. I was going to eat right, relax, read, tan, go to the gym… No more was I going to call random guys for sex. I needed to move on and stop giving myself excuses.

This was a fine plan. Now I just needed to stick to it!

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