Posts Tagged sweet
We all know that red roses are the queen of Valentine’s Day, and chocolate is king. If you read my blog, you know just how much I like chocolate. Although I never heard of them before this weekend, I am thrilled to introduce Sugar and Plumm, the Purveyors of Yumm!
Chef Pichet Ong spoke to our intimate group about the delicious creations they are whipping up. Perhaps best known as a judge on Top Chef: Just Desserts, award-winning corporate pastry Chef Ong is the whimsical creator behind the sweet and savory confections of Sugar and Plumm. He combines the fond flavors of his childhood with modern cooking techniques to create culinary offerings that are seasonal, pure, light, and delightfully experimental, yet nostalgic.
After introducing us to the brand, he was kind enough to treat us to their For The Love of Chocolate gorgeously packaged box of some of their finest chocolate creations. It is an amazing assortment of hand-crafted artisan chocolates with origins from around the world. This box included two white chocolate blueberry and six pure dark Mexican chocolate ganache. However, the pleasant surprises didn’t end there. Hidden below were chocolates with flavors and aromas consisting of raspberry, vanilla, coconut, hazelnut praline, jasmine tea infused ganache, ginger, milk chocolate and pure dark Peruvian. On top of allowing us to sample some of their finest chocolate creations, we were also give a pair of their brightly colored, delicate French macaroons. It was all I could do to keep myself from digging in immediately.
When I untied the ribbon and opened my brightly colored box, I was blown away by the impeccably pristine chocolates before me. They were almost too pretty to eat. Luckily, that would not stop me. What did stop me was the thought of my boyfriend waiting for me at home. There’s something incredibly romantic about fine artisan chocolates that makes it sinful not to share with a loved one.
On our anniversary, the day before Valentine’s day, I told my boyfriend I had a surprise for him. I told him to close his eyes and open his mouth. After a bit of trepidation, he complied, and boy was he glad he did. His face lit up from ear to ear as he savored his first bite of the dark chocolate ganache-filled heart. I sampled the white chocolate blueberry-filled heart. I’d never tasted anything so complex and exquisite. It was heaven. I was reminded of the first time blueberry wine touched my lips, and I had to have more. The combination of blueberry and white chocolate was pure genius. I forced myself to put the box away so I could savor these the little bits of chocolate heaven for a few days; I simply did not want the experience to end!
There was no way I could possibly ignore the fresh macaroons waiting the ultimate demise. Although there were two, I wanted the best of both worlds. As it’s rather impossible to split a macaroon, I simply bit half for myself and passed the other half to my boyfriend. We made long extended moans as we enjoyed these incredible indulgences, and that was just the vanilla macaroon. I repeated our ritual with the strawberry poppy-seed, and the moans of happiness only grew louder. The flavors transported me back to the beach with my parents snacking on strawberry Twizzlers.
It was amazing how incredibly nostalgic Sugar and Plumm’s confectionaries were. How could so much be contained in such a small morsel?
I was shocked to learn that Sugar and Plumm serve breakfast, lunch, dinner, weekend brunch, and every craving in between. I was expecting a purveyor of sweets, but they create works of art from homemade ice cream and macaroons, to house-smoked salmon and Berkshire pulled pork, our team of master chefs, bakers, and chocolatiers are purveyors of all things delicious and delightful. The bake shop even makes everything handmade, from scratch. The only problem you’ll find is deciding what to order (and possibly that top button on your pants).
Although it’s too late to place an order for Valentine’s Day delivery, if you’re looking for that perfect way to show the special person in your life just how much they mean to you, this is a perfect for Valentine’s Day — Or any of the other 364 days of the year. The have gift boxes for every budget and an in-store experience you won’t soon forget! This Upper West Side spot with Parisian charm and a downtown vibe is sure to knock the socks off anyone who enters and will certainly not disappoint!
For more information, visit the on Facebook.
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In the summer, my company offers half day Fridays. It’s an amazing perk, and I take full advantage.
I live for my weekends, so if there was anything I could do to make them better, I did. I utilized my free Friday afternoons to run my errands so Saturday and Sunday would be all mine. I tried to clean and do laundry, run to the grocery store, etc.
This Friday, I was very successful getting through my list. I stopped by my allergist for my weekly shot. Since I left work at 1:00, I decided to eat lunch at McDonalds (never a good decision). While sitting there, I noticed two men walking holding hands across the street. I was a bit surprised. I immediately thought, “We do that in Hoboken?!” In the six years I’d lived in Hoboken, only once before had I seen two men holding hands. I was thrilled to see the courage and the progress.
When I finished eating, I swung by the salon for a haircut and hit up the gym to lift and swim. After my swim, I called CK from the roof deck of the gym. Although we made tentative plans for Saturday night, we hadn’t discussed plans for that night. It was our anniversary. He automatically assumed I was spending the night in the city since he came to Hoboken the previous night. I was not under the same impression, so I explained I did not want to spend both Friday and Saturday night away from place. I told him to pick one. This of course turned into an argument. He complained about the trek to Hoboken, and I resented this. I’d made the trip back into the city to be with him many times after a long day at work, and I did it without complaint. He always made it seem like torture when he had to traverse the Hudson River. The argument grew more and more heated until he threatened not to come at all. I wasn’t having any more of this, so I hung up on him.
I was tired of this game we were playing. I didn’t want to argue anymore. In addition, my testosterone was already flowing after a solid workout, and my blood was beginning to boil with every complaint.
After I got home and a few minutes passed, he called back (He always was good at playing the role of peacemaker). He told me he’d come to Hoboken, but it wouldn’t be until later. We discussed the argument calmly, and both apologized for getting out of hand. He explained he had assumption I was coming there all day. The idea of him trekking out to Hoboken on a bus wasn’t all that thrilling to him after having those expectations all day. I explained how one of us would always have to make the trek to the other. There was nothing we could do about that, at least for now, so the more fair and balanced we could make it (and the less complaining), the less burdensome it would feel. He agreed.
Since I had a fair amount of time before his arrival, I continued with my to-do list and swung by Shop Rite and Target. When I finished and returned home, I was still a bit depressed from the bad news I’d received at work that week, so I plopped down on the couch and watched TV until CK arrived.
Hours passed, and I heard nothing from him. I felt he was dragging his feet and as every minute passed, I grew more and more annoyed. He told me he had to shower before coming over. He obviously wasn’t still showering. I was sure he was just lounging about, which is fine. But I wanted him to be lounging about with me.
This wasn’t just any night after all. We were supposed to be “celebrating” our three-month anniversary. I finally got so annoyed I sent him a text: “Maybe tonight would be better spent apart. I’m in a really cranky mood now.” It was already past 10:00. At this point he was coming over to sleep and not much else. He called and told me he was already in a cab on the way to the PATH. I encouraged him not to doddle before saying goodbye. I needed to cool off before he arrived, or it was a guaranteed fight the moment he arrived. It seemed all the smallest things so easily got under my skin. I was all wound up. Work was stressing me out. Life was stressing me out…
Finally, at 11:00, he arrived, flowers in hand to make up for the botched night. Honestly, I would have preferred he came three hours prior, but the gesture was utterly sweet. And, I forgave/thanked him immediately. I tried to be cool with everything and have a nice time with him since it was a special night. There was no use being miserable.
It wasn’t really his fault either. Work made me a miserable son-of-a-b*tch. He asked me how my day was. I further explained my new predicament and fretted over the possibility of being unemployed in the near future. I was very pessimistic about the whole situation.
I certainly will hand it to him. He remained positive and tried to assure me everything would be fine. This is why I loved him so much. NO matter how much of a Debbie Downer I can be, he always picks me up and dusts me off. In spite of my pessimism, he was always optimistic.
We also learned to collaborate professionally. We were helping each other bolster up our positions in the social media realm of our jobs. He taught me things I didn’t know about, and through my recent vigorous research, I taught him a thing or two as well.
When I’d had enough talk of my job situation, we agreed to order Chinese food for dinner. I was too tired to cook. While we waited for the food to arrive, we smoked to relax.
He told me about his day at work and the stellar presentation he delivered to the powers that be. He was proposing a new initiative that was well received by the decision-makers. I was happy for him, but also jealous. Sure, I realize how horrible that is to say, but I’m nothing if I’m not honest.
The rest of the night was much better than the evening had begun. Eventually, I forgot all about our fight and my emotions were back in check. We ate our food while watching TV in each other’s arms on the couch.
I finished eating, but CK was still chowing down as he poured some of the General Tso’s sauce onto on his plate. After a few minutes, he started fretting. Apparently, he’d eaten something quite hot. After investigating, I realized he ate a whole chili pepper. Tears were streaming down his face as he rinsed his mouth over and over again in the sink. Next he tried a glass of milk and a few pieces of bread. That didn’t seem to be helping. He even took to wiping his tongue with a napkin. Nothing helped. It was all I could do to maintain my composure, but after a while I couldn’t hold back. His face wasn’t the only one wet from tears. I was hysterically laughing so hard I was crying.
After a good laugh, interspersed with failing advice, I consulted Google for a better solution. We’d tried everything in the book. When I told him someone suggested eating another one, he looked like he was going to throw me out the third-story window. I was still getting a chuckle out of all this but certainly at his expense. It was torture for him, but he had no idea the gift he was giving me. He delivered exactly what I needed that night — A good laugh.
Eventually the pain subsided, and he forgot all about the incident. As our eyelids grew heavier and heavier, we moved to my bedroom for the night. As tired as we were, our appetites weren’t quite satiated.
We were pinning each other down for the count before we counting sheep. As hot as things were for him during dinner, things in the bedroom were even hotter. We tired ourselves out between the sheets before he finally drifted off to slumber wrapped in my arms. That night taught me something very important. No matter how much we fought, this was the man I loved, and there was no changing that.
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CK and I were about to hit our two-month mark. It was two of the best months of my life, and I wouldn’t trade them for the world. I learned I could truly find love in a man, and slowly but surely, I started to give more and more of myself to him. The wall I built up around my heart was not only cracking but also crumbling. There were a handful of guys in my past I had come to enjoy the extended company of beyond a hookup, but CK was the first man I ever really came to love.
My life was no longer my life. There was no longer a me. It became our life and us. I stopped making plans for one. CK was front and center in my thoughts at all times. We were living together in two homes. We were dining together, drinking together, taking trips together, etc.
CK’s move to an apartment with roommates allowed him a new cashflow he hadn’t had before, however, I was trying to prevent us from blowing that on going out to dinner in the New York City. It’s not cheap, and if we were going to build a life together, he needed to start saving. I wasn’t thrilled with spending all that money going out to eat either. It wasn’t that we couldn’t afford it, but we felt it was a bit of a waste. When I was living on my own, I made dinner for myself almost every night. Going out to dinner felt like a luxury and a treat. I wanted to get back to that. We both agreed to live more economically wherever possible. Since CK isn’t the biggest cook, I even started making food and taking it to his apartment so we could have convenient meals prepared. For instance, one night after work, we grabbed some groceries and thawed the frozen spaghetti sauce I made for dinner. We cooked together in the kitchen and ate in front of his TV. It was nice, it was cheap and it was delicious. That meal cost us pennies compared to what we’d spend going out to an Italian restaurant. We were also taking advantage of Groupons and Living Socials whenever possible so on the nights we didn’t feel like cooking, we could grab a nice dinner out and not pay full price.
As a gay man, I’m not quite as mirror conscious as some, but I am a bit vain in some aspects. I love how I look with a great tan, and I love it even more when my hair has a bit of depth and volume. Sadly, a few years ago, my hairline started receding. There was little I could do to prevent it, so I did what I could to mask it. That meant getting my haircut in a certain style, but it also meant highlighting it so it wasn’t one solid color against my scalp. This is one of my few gay vices.
Since I was in junior high, I stopped going to my father’s barber and started going to my mother’s hair stylist. Granted, since moving away from home, I didn’t go home every time I needed a haircut, but I did make it a point to go home and get it highlighted periodically throughout the year.
My hair got naturally lighter in the summer, so before the sun worked its magic, I would always try to trek home for some carmel colored highlights. My hair stylist was a magician. He never measured, but he always got my color just right. The one time I was left under the heat too long, everything slid to the back of the cap, bleaching the back of my head. He managed to dye my hair back to it’s natural color. You couldn’t tell anything went wrong.
My hair stylist also charges me a measly $30 for the highlights and the cut. Granted it’s in the middle of nowhere in Pennsylvania, but it would cost more over $100 to have this done in New York City. Whenever I get my hair cut by someone in the metro area, they ask about the highlights. They compliment them, and I get a big kick out of telling them how much I paid for them — Their jaws hit the floor.
It was particularly difficult to get home before the summer sun this year. My sister wasn’t being cooperative about trips home, so I had to plan something on my own. That meant hopping on the motorcycle and making the two-hour trek home (costing me $10 in gas). I didn’t want to give up my weekend because that was when I went to the beach with my boyfriend, but it was nearly impossible to get away during the week. On top of this, it had to be planned around nice weather. I couldn’t make the trip home if rain was in the forecast.
Summer was passing by, so I decided to take off a half day from work to get it done. After work Wednesday evening, I sped home trying to avoid traffic and made it to my parents’ house just before the sun went down. I found it very sweet that CK was worried about me. He was very concerned with my safety, even after riding with me on the bike many times. I was truly touched. I told him when I was heading home, and I texted him as soon as I got to my parents’ place. I told him it would take roughly two hours, and he was texting me worried after about an hour and a half. It showed me how much he truly cared about me and how much he loved me. “I don’t know what I would do if I lost you babe!” he said.
CK was against the trip from the onset. He didn’t like the idea of me getting highlights, but I told him to have faith. He’d seen pictures of me in the summer and commented how good I looked. I promised him I wouldn’t come back looking like an a$$hole. I think he thought I was getting my tips frosted.
It was also nice to catch up with my parents and have a relaxing night in front of the TV with a home-cooked meal. The next morning, I woke at the crack of dawn to hit up the salon. In an hours time, I looked like a new man, and I was back on the road. I had to get back to work by mid-afternoon.
That night, CK saw me for the first time in person, after asking me to send pictures to his phone. He commented on how good I looked. “Babe, I was really worried. I thought you were going to look ridiculous,” he added. I gave him a big kiss and reminded him how I knew what I was doing, cheekily.
Even if I came back looking ridiculous, I’m sure he would have played along and told me I looked fine. We were in love, and my hair wasn’t going to change that. On the flip-side, I think the highlights worked a little magic and made me more attractive to him because, after being away from each other for a night, we had some great passionate sex before dozing off.
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The morning after my friend’s wedding, CK and I woke up in bliss. We started talking in hypotheticals about our own wedding. I’d never given any thought to my wedding since coming to terms with my homosexuality. I never had this great picture in my mind. It always just seemed like this big dream I’d never attain. But, now that I had CK, it was growing in possibility. I still didn’t imagine our picture-perfect wedding, but I did picture myself spending the rest of my life with him. I could see us old and gray together sitting on rockers on the front porch or going for our evening constitutional after a nice meal we shared at home on the sun deck.
Warning: The following may be too graphic for some. This isn’t exactly how I woke up. Before all this marriage talk, I awoke to warming, wet sensation in my groin. He continue this while I slowly woke and writhed with pleasure. I reached down and grabbed the back of his head while it bobbed up and down. Eventually, I grabbed hold of his hair and directed his head up to meet mine so I could kiss him. What a way to wake up. We continued fooling around in bed until we both finished.
I have had quite a few men in my life. Some of these men I’d dated for quite some time. CK was the first man to figure out how to make me finish every time. All that remained of my former embarrassing “condition” was barely an echo of a thought in the back of my brain. CK had often times mentioned to me how stupid my previous love interests were for letting me go. It was then I realized Broadway let me go when the sex started to deteriorate. Sex was a large part of our relationship, and when I found it difficult to finish, he lost interest in me. It made me question the relationship as a whole. Was the whole thing based on sex? Did he simply keep me around cause I was good in the sack? None of my previous relationships have instilled any bit of confidence in me, so I thought it better to not think about them anymore. I had something new and magical to concentrate my brain power on — There was no need to live in the past.
CK made me finish by manually stimulating my prostate. His magic touch is what kept our sex life alive and strong. By relieving this burden, I was able to concentrate more on other things, and I was able to relax. As a result, we had an incredibly healthy sex life. However, this comes with a price. No one likes to talk about it, but anal play can be awkward. Although I’d learned to relax, I was very self-conscious about things. I tell you this because I want to ease your fears about this. It gets messy. There are no two ways about it. There are ways to reduce this, and I highly recommend learning them. But, in the end, you both realize it’s no big deal and move on. I’m not saying this time was messy, but over the time I’d been dating CK, we both became comfortable with dealing with any situation that arose. There’s nothing a strategically placed small towel and a little soap and water can’t remedy.
When we finished in bed, we hopped in the shower and began to fool around more. We didn’t have sex because water is an awful lubricant! We washed each other from head to toe, making sure not to miss any of the nooks or crannies.
Afterwards, it was time for breakfast. I was being healthy, so I had yogurt. I’d decided to begin a new diet (and by diet I simply mean I was paying attention to what went into my face hole). I taught him how simple it was to make French toast, so he had that for breakfast. He was fascinated to learn how easy it was to make and enjoyed it even more knowing he made it.
I had made plans for us for the day to head to a friend’s for a barbecue. I made the mistake of assuming since we were in my neighborhood, I was responsible for entertaining us. We talked and decided to take the motorcycle out for a ride before we did anything. It was only when I mentioned we’d be dropping off food at my friend, D and K’s apartment that he learned about the barbecue. He wasn’t mad about it, but he didn’t appreciate not being consulted before plans were set. I apologized for being inconsiderate. I knew I was in the wrong and felt bad about it, but all was well.
We planned to film the motorcycle ride with CK’s iPhone similar to what we did on the bikes in Central Park, but it didn’t exactly work as planned. We rigged a contraption to record the ride, but the angle of the camera was toward the road. We’ll have to make a second attempt and post the video here when we get it down pat.
When we finished our ride, we went back to D and K’s apartment. There was a fun crew gathering, and I introduced CK to a few newbies he’d never met before. We spent the afternoon eating and having fun. The conversation was bustling between everyone, but the time came for us to head out. CK asked if we could go. He wanted me all to himself. I didn’t argue because I thought it was incredibly sweet of him. I was also happy to learn he liked all my friends and enjoyed seeing how well he fit in.
We went home and cuddled in my bed while watching a few more episodes of Game of Thrones. I made us fish for dinner, and when we finished, we made our way back into the city to spend the night.
While walking back to his apartment, he commented how he enjoyed taking the publicly more submissive role, cradling his hand in the crook of my arm. Being a guy who likes to protect and cuddle my man, I enjoyed being the more dominant role. We really fit well together, in every sense of a relationship. It’s as if we were meant for each other. When we finally got back to his place, we relaxed in bed with some Rachel Maddow. I was exhausted after a long weekend, so I didn’t last long before I dozed off cradling the man I love.
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Thursday morning I said goodbye to CK in a rush to get him to work on time. I wasn’t going to get to see him that night, but that didn’t stop us from texting each other. Thursday night, between two of my volleyball games, I text him, “Missing you hard babe.” He was on my mind, even though I was concentrating on the game at hand. He responded, and when the game was over, I told him I was off to the bar that sponsors us to celebrate.
While at the bar, around 10:00, I text him: “Do I get to see you tomorrow?” I stepped outside to call him, but I got no answer. I left him a sweet message, but got no response. When I got home at midnight, I called again, but he didn’t pick up. I did a little stalking to see if he checked in anywhere on Foursquare or if Twitter would give me any leads, but no dice. I went to be disappointed and a bit worrisome. Apparently, much to my chagrin, I’m carrying trust baggage from previous relationships.
I woke in the morning to find a text message: “Hey my baby! Sorry. Bloody phone died last night =/. Of course you get to see me. I kinda need to see you. And hold you. And kiss you. And bite you. Sleep over =].” It helped brighten my day. I responded back asking if he’d rather come to my place, and I could give him a ride back into the city in the morning. I wanted to surprise him by baking cookies since his mother was coming. I thought we could bake them together, especially since there were no sharp objects involved. He texted back explaining he really needed to stay at his place so he could get ready for his mother’s arrival. I said, “Okay.” He responded asking if I wasn’t thrilled with the idea.
I called him to explain and ruined my surprise. He told me how sweet I am. We made plans for me to head home after my coworker’s sendoff, bake and come back into the city. He also told me the bad news he received that he didn’t get the apartment in Brooklyn. He was so disappointed. I have to secretly admit I wasn’t all that disappointed. I felt bad for him because he was so excited about the place, but it would have been tough for us. The island of Manhattan would have separated us, not brought us together. Selfishly, I did a little research on one-bedroom apartments in Hoboken and sent him a few links.
I didn’t have the best day at work. For starters, I had to say goodbye to one of my favorite coworkers. Luckily, she wasn’t going far and would be working with CK. On top of that, my coworkers neglected to celebrate my birthday. I myself don’t really celebrate my birthday, but as a department, we always do something nice for birthdays. This was the second year in-a-row skipping mine. And lastly, when everyone went for send-off drinks, I had to stay behind and finish work.
When I finished working, I met everyone at the bar a few drinks in. I met my freshly ex-coworker’s gay roommate and told him my Grindr story. He was all too familiar with Grind and said, “Awww. Now I want a boyfriend!” It was cute and nice to have a gay man to chat about my man with.
When I had my fill, I left to head to CK’s. When I got to his place, I asked if I could vent for a few minutes. I told him about my bad day and my coworkers’ neglect on the part of my birthday. He comforted me and managed to greatly cheer me up. He gave me my birthday card. I read it, and I was nearly brought to tears. It was incredibly sweet and thoughtful. We only knew each other a short period of time, but he completely knew me at my core. For my birthday, he bought us a session to learn trapeze. I jumped up and gave him the biggest hug. I pulled him in and deeply kissed him. I was so happy to be with him. He was an amazing man, and I was incredibly lucky.
The other part of my birthday present was him. He offered up his body for me to use any way I wanted. I was so turned on by his thoughtfulness and his passion. We climbed into bed and began groping and making out and our bodies intertwined as we stripped our clothes off.
Warning: The following may be too graphic for some. He laid on his back, and I pulled out the lube. When we were both prepped, I climbed on top of him, and the passionate lovemaking began. He felt amazing. This was a special birthday present — One I wouldn’t soon forget. I was incredibly happy just to spend my birthday with him, but to also get birthday sex was truly the icing on the birthday cake.
When we both finished, we laid in each other’s arms cuddling. As it often times was the case with him, the cuddling was almost as good as the actual sex. I always felt safe and comfortable with him. I was crazy for this guy, and I wanted him to be mine and mine alone.
We laid in bed that night watching TV until we fell asleep together with my arms wrapped around him. He was my perfect little spoon. I always slept soundly with him. This was turning out to be quite a special relationship.
I woke in the morning to quite an alarm. Without warning, he removed my boxers and began blowing me. It felt INCREDIBLE! I was already naturally excited, with my morning wood at full staff, but his mouth felt amazing that morning. This was one of the best I’d ever received.
After some time, I took control and began to stimulate my manhood with my hand. The saliva left on it provided amazing lubricant for me to get myself to the edge. While I was doing this, he was busy manually stimulating my prostate with his finger inserted inside me. It didn’t take him long, but he found my spot. It’d been almost a year since someone found that spot and treated it just right. It was a matter of seconds before I exploded all over while my body writhed in spasm. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t even think. I was incapacitated. This was the best orgasm I’d had in a loonnnnggg time.
When I tried to upright myself after laying paralyzed in the bed for some time, I could barely walk. My legs had gone limp and weren’t able to support my weight. I would have nearly collapsed if it wasn’t for the doorframe for me to grip for support.
My old roommate texted me to wish me a happy birthday that morning. He couldn’t believe I was awake that early. The plan for that day was to head to the pier, and he wanted me to head there early. It was 8:00am. I wasn’t heading there that early.
That morning he had to early because his mother was arriving at LaGuardia Airport. He had mentioned his desire for us to meet while she was in town, and I was quite excited by the prospect. This was a big deal, but it wasn’t. I was pretty relaxed in these types of situations, so it wasn’t stressful, but meeting his mother was no small deal. It showed he really cared about me enough to introduce us. I didn’t take it lightly and hoped it would come to fruition.
I said goodbye while he hopped in a cab to the airport and made my way back to Hoboken to get ready to celebrate another year on Earth.
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Every morning I woke up happier than the day before. I had an amazing boyfriend who would only make my day brighter. On top of that, I had an amazing new bed. I couldn’t believe the different a solid platform bed made over a standard metal frame. I slept so well, I slept through my alarm. I woke Wednesday morning at 9:00am. I was going to be late for work!
When I got to work, I solidified my plans with CK for the evening. I was planning to run home after work to pack an overnight bag, but after texting with CK, I learned he was planning to spend the night at my place. We would meet at his place before hitting up the show. He was hoping to get home by 7:00. As the day progressed, he informed me he would be lucky if he could leave work by 8:00. I decided not to run home. Instead I hung at the office and write a few blog posts.
When 8:00 hit, he headed home, and I made my way over as well. He was going to hop in the shower, so he told me he’d leave the door unlocked. When I got to the door, it was locked. I buzzed, and he answered in his briefs. I ran and threw my arms around him, and we had a five-minute makeout session. He was a bit sweaty and told me how gross he was. “I smell like balls,” he added. We both fell to the bed in tight embrace and began rolling around the bed.
I was so happy to see him. I had missed him, but seeing him made it seem all the more extreme. I was downright giddy. We playfully rolled around the bed kissing each other all over. CK proceeded to continue to bite me. I told him to stop.
I finally laid down the law a bit. I told him how much it hurts. I explained that nibbling was okay, but the biting was starting to leave black-and-blue marks. He calmed down a bit. He then proceeded to attempt to pin me down so he could playfully put his smelly balls on me. I playfully resisted and protested. Luckily for me, I’m stronger than him. Finally, he made his way to the shower. I sat on the couch reading until he emerged. We fooled around a little more before finally making our way to snag a cab to the Lower East Side.
When we got to the event at the Upright Citizens Brigade, I realized this was something organized through work. It was a packed house. It was difficult to maneuver through the full bar, especially with my work bag and CK’s overnight bag. That’s when he kinda let me have it. He pointed out just how much he hates carrying a bag around. He originally wanted to swing by his place on our way to my apartment. I suggested bringing his bag with him since we’d already be downtown. He also pointed out to me how he wanted to drop his bag off at my apartment when we were walking through the festival that Sunday, but I didn’t make that happen. I offered to carry his bag then, and I offered to trade bags with him at the event since mine was very small and light.
In the end, it was fine. He got over it and thanked me for taking care of his bag while he grabbed us drinks. We were seated shortly, and it wasn’t that much of an inconvenience.
The show was hysterical. I recognized an old coworker in the crowd and someone I went to college with on stage. He was the best of the whole lot. I was very impressed. It was nice to do something fun with CK.
When the show was over, he was ready to head out into the rain. We grabbed Mexican at a restaurant around the corner. It was very good and we have a good time sharing a bunch of tacos and flan. We talked about how we met and how lucky we were to find each other. We also talked about the hot bartender. I noticed him when we arrived but didn’t mention anything. It took CK until we were ordering dessert to notice and pointed it out to me. He was surprised to hear I’d already noticed him.
We hopped in a cab to the PATH and made our way to my apartment. We barely made the train. I didn’t know he needed to buy separate trips for the PATH from the MetroCard, so I quickly scanned my card for him while holding the train doors open so it couldn’t leave.
As we walked to my place, I opened my umbrella, and he asked if he minded if he locked his hand on my arm. Again, I felt slightly uncomfortable, but I needed to force myself to get used to it. This was my life. There’s no changing it. I was curious what made him ask that. Was I that bad at hiding my unease? I told him it was fine. He also wanted to see if he could figure out the way back to my place without help. I was impressed when he pulled it off.
When we got to my apartment, we went straight to my bedroom. It was late, so we both stripped down to briefs and boxers. It was nice to lay in his warm embrace finally. It really made my night. It wasn’t long before we started fooling around. This of course led to sex. “Do you want to f*ck me?” he asked. I expressed me strong desire to, but then he flipped it on me. “Can I f*ck you?” he added. I agreed, and we got it on. (I was very happy to see the bed hold up so well and not make a sound. It truly was a worthwhile investment.)
We both lay there incapacitated for some time before he asked if I wanted to f*ck him. “When I get feeling back in my legs, maybe,” I said. In the back of my mind, I was saving my turn for the morning. I’m always horniest then, and it’d been a while. I knew it would feel amazing.
Instead, we started to watch Revenge. About ten minutes into the show, he was gently snoring. I woke at 4:00am to find the TV and lights still on. I turned them off and tucked us in under the comforters.
Waking in the morning to his smiling face in mine was priceless. We kissed immediately, and I felt amazing. I really liked CK! He was everything I needed in a man. I didn’t have one single complaint about him at that moment. He was spectacular.
Warning: The following may be too graphic for some. After a lot of cuddling and snoozes, he began blowing me. It felt great, but I was really hoping for penetration. Finally, positions shifted, and I found the great pleasure of being inside him.
The time came to get ready for work. He needed to be there by 9:00 and put me in charge of making sure that happened. He went into the bathroom for some time before he emerged and asked if I wanted to join him in the shower. I obliged his request. Who could turn down such a sexy man with hot water streaming across his body?
We ended up leaving the apartment slightly late. I flagged us a cab to make up for some time, and we managed to catch the PATH just as it was about to embark. I kissed him at Christopher Street station and said goodbye.
When I got to work, I was already missing him. The previous night, he mentioned his disappointment in not being able to be around for my birthday. I told him I understood. His mother was coming into town. I thought it was very sweet of him to be disappointed, especially since I don’t really celebrate my birthday. I sent him a text to let him know I missed him. He responded telling me he missed me too, and he was having a very productive and good morning. I was happy for/proud of him.
I was really falling for him. I even took a moment out of my day to update my status on Facebook to reflect my new status. I couldn’t be certain where things were headed after only a month, but if things continued the way they were going, I certainly was onboard! Maybe I would finally find love.
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I’d begun an amazing date with a spectacular man, and I couldn’t wait for what was to come next. Although I had been to Frankies 570 multiple times before with multiple dates, this time was special. I had an amazing guy to share a meal with. Ironically, my meal from days prior was so good, I ordered the same the again.
Conversation over dinner we great. It flowed like water downhill. We were both very flirtatious and chatty. On many of my other dates, there were long awkward pauses, but not on this one. Everything was just so easy. When I excuse myself to go to the bathroom, he leaned in requesting a kiss first. It was incredibly sweet and adorable. I really liked this guy. He was everything I was looking for.
I was just taking extra care to make sure I didn’t get ahead of myself. I had a history of falling for guys who would hurt me or not be interested in pursuing anything further. While in the restroom, I looked in the mirror to keep myself centered. All I could do was smile at my reflection like a giddy schoolgirl.
When I returned to the table, the conversation picked back up where we left off. My hand was on his leg under the table. His body language was very positive.
Our meals came, and we shared them with each other. Both of us were very happy with our selections. When the meal ended, we agreed to order a dessert to share. We got the crème-brulee. I dug my spoon into it and fed him a spoonful. It felt incredibly romantic. He smiled as his mouth closed around the spoon. We finished dessert and began to chat about what to do next. He was dancing around what I can only assume were his true motives. He said, “We can go have more drinks.” I interjected, “I don’t want to drink anymore.” “We can drop our bags at my place and go out. We could grab Pinkberry…” he added. I cut him off at the pass saying, “You can stop dancing around it. We can go back to your place.” He immediately smiled and agreed that was the best idea.
I wasn’t thinking we were going back to his place for sex. I knew there would be making out and a lot of heavy petting, but I wasn’t planning to give it up that easily. We hopped in a cab back to his apartment. He asked if I wanted to go to the roof, and I told him I would default to him. We were on his home turf. He could run the show. I picked the bar and restaurant. It was his turn to drive. Before we got to his place, he warned me of the condition of it. He informed me he lived like a frat boy.
When we got to his place, we stopped in his apartment on our way to the roof. I didn’t think he was as bad as he let on. We began making out on the bed. This, of course, led to many other things. Slowly but surely, clothes started landing on the floor in scattered piles. Eventually, we fond ourselves naked and engaging in a myriad of sexual acts, but penetration would never occur.
He was a very passionate man. I have found it nearly impossible to find a man whose intellect, wit and sense of adventure outside the bedroom matched their passion in the bedroom. He was a diamond in the rough. I wasn’t going to let this one go without a fight.
I noticed he was very into music. It was like he needed a soundtrack. I liked it. Every minute I was learning something new about him, and it was all making me like him even more.
We never made it to the roof. We ended up passing out on top of each other’s naked body. In the middle of the night, we both woke up. It was around 2:00. He offered for me to stay. I was under the impression that was already happening. I assumed I would just stay the night. We cuddled some more, and he turned out the lights.
When we woke in the morning, things weren’t awkward at all. I felt very comfortable with him. We talked about how we didn’t have sex and how that made us both happy. We didn’t need to rush things. I mean, I was spending the night on a first date, but I was happy true sex didn’t occur. I was also thrilled he was the type of guy who would just bring that up and not keep it inside for fear of saying the wrong thing. He spoke his mind. I needed to get back to that. Being with him might help me get back to that.
He was amazing. There was no question about it. We were both starving and decided to get dressed to hunt for some breakfast. We stopped by a few places before finally settling on Jimmy’s American Grill and Bar. We grabbed a table outside and picked up the conversation where we left off the previous night.
I let my freak flag fly. I felt so free with him. I told him all about me and my idiosyncrasies. I explained my Christmas Bash and all the work I put into it. He referred to me as Martha Stewart, and I expressed my hatred for that referral. I didn’t like that my cooking and entertaining had a feminine connotation. I told him I was more the Nate Berkus type. He laughed and agreed it was a better reference. I told him about my crazy coworkers and how we would make an amazing reality show. I told him about growing up on a farm. Everything I could think of, I brought out. He loved it all! I learned about where he grew up and his career in advertising. Every word made me like him more and more. He also told me about his friends. They texted him while we were eating to ask him to come to brunch 2.0.
Somehow, we got on the topic of The Hunger Games. I was reading the books, and he had already seen the movie. I told him I was looking forward to seeing the movie. He told me he would go see it again and asked if we could go see it Sunday. You could have knocked me over with a feather. He was already planning date number two before date number one concluded. I was thrilled and immediately accepted.
He walked me to the PATH to say goodbye before heading downtown to meet his friends at Elmo. We kissed each other goodbye and gave a long lasting hug. There was a homeless man panhandling next to us who said, “Get a room,” through a smile. He began laughing, and I started to crack up since I was the one facing him. I said to my amazing date, “That made my day.” Immediately, he replied, “You made my day.” I was in heaven. I said goodbye and went down the stairs to the train.
Later, I learned from checking his Twitter that when he checked in at dinner on Foursquare, he wrote, “Easy conversation + tasty food + hot boy = great date on a Fri night (@ Frankies 570 w/ 2 others)” and the next day at brunch, “When last night’s date becomes this afternoon’s brunch date (@ Jimmy’s American Grill & Bar). He really did like me. I was just finding it hard to take. It was like a dream. I couldn’t really believe it. I didn’t want to get too excited because I didn’t want to get hurt. But, honestly, who gives a f*ck. I was happy, and that was all I cared about.
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Before my trip to Washington DC, I started chatting with a few guys on Grindr. It was bad timing for the trip to come right after “meeting” them, but it would have to do. On my way back home, I made plans with a few guys over text for dates to get to know them.
One of the guys I was talking to was a bit older. He seemed like a great guy, and he was very interested in me. Of all the guys I started talking to, he texted the most. He seemed sweet, caring and attentive. While away, he asked how the blossoms were. He genuinely took an interest in me. He was texting me like a high school girl. I wasn’t annoyed. I was flattered. We made plans to grab a drink Wednesday evening after work.
Since Southern Drawl didn’t want to go to The Breslin, I proposed he and I meet there for a drink. It wasn’t far from my office, and it was pretty centrally located in Manhattan. We set a time, and I stayed at the office to kill time until he could make it there.
He ended up arriving early, and he texted me to let me know. I quickly left my office and speed-walked the ten blocks to the bar to meet him.
I wasn’t sure what I’d be meeting that night. From his picture, he looked like a very mature man. He had white hair, and he told me he was possibly getting a haircut before we met. I encouraged him to keep his longer hair since I liked it, but it was his hair. I didn’t know which hairstyle I’d be meeting.
I walked in to find him standing leaning against the wall. It wasn’t too difficult to pick him out of the crowd, however, he looked much older than I originally expected. I invited him to follow me to the bar and ordered us drinks. I managed to snag two bar stools just as someone was getting up to walk away.
We dove right into conversation about work. We both worked in advertising at one point, so we discussed that for a while. The more we talked, the more relaxed the conversation became. I didn’t see this conversation growing into a relationship, but he was a really nice guy. There was no reason why I couldn’t share a few rounds with a nice guy. I really didn’t think we were compatible.
Somehow we got into philosophical conversation talking about life in general. He really liked my outlook on life. I wasn’t putting on a show or anything. I was just being myself. He really responded well to this.
During our conversation, he came clean on his age and informed me he was 36. That’s how old Smiles was, so it wasn’t the issue for me. He did, however, look more like he was 42. I wasn’t sure if I believed him about his age. I wondered if he was lowballing it.
We started talking about family and his family house in the Hamptons. We got on the topic of coming out, and I told him how fresh I was to the gay world. He responded well to this and told me he was new himself. He came out to a few of his high school friends, and apparently it didn’t go well. For them, it became a problem of an identity crisis. They didn’t know who he was anymore. I told him how positive my experience was coming out and conveyed my sympathy about his experience. He also told me his family didn’t know either. It appeared I was more gay mature than he was. This was a first. This was a 36 year-old man who was still living in the closet. I didn’t think I could handle that. If he couldn’t accept himself by that age, the road was only going to get rockier as we went along.
After three rounds, the time came to go home. He expressed his desire to go on a second date, and I let on that this was a possibility. I didn’t want to lead him on and seem overly zealous about it, but I didn’t want to break his spirit. We walked to the corner and said goodbye with a hug. We exchanged a few texts after that, but obviously nothing ever materialized.
It wasn’t that late, so I decided to text M.E. and see if he wanted to come over. He did, and when he arrived at my apartment, we immediately went to the bedroom. Warning: The following may be too graphic for some. We stripped each other naked and got right down to things. There was a bit of foreplay and a lot of making out before I reached for the condoms and lube. Since being with him, I had unprotected sex with someone else. I needed to keep his safety in mind. While in DC, my results came back with no STDs and HIV negative, but I didn’t want to take any chances. We had amazing protected sex that night and fell asleep in a spooning position.
When we woke in the morning, we fooled around until we hopped in the shower. There, we had sex once again. I’m always horny in the morning, so this was even better than the night before. When we finished showering, we went back to the bed and had sex there. At one point, I even turned over and let him penetrate me. I felt I owed it to him. He was incredibly excited about it. This didn’t last long because, as he told me, he had a hard time keeping an erection after he’d been penetrated. I was okay with this, being as it’d been a long time since I bottomed.
We laid with each other, and I tried to finish myself off but to no avail. I had a dentist appointment to get to that morning, so I could no longer dawdle. I was already late the way it was. This was going to be a rough day. How was I ever going to concentrate on anything!?
M.E. gave me a ride to the dentist, and I gave him a kiss goodbye.
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After coming to the realization Middle Eastern was not dating material, I began my search for a boyfriend once again. I thought I’d give him a second chance, and he proved to me he wasn’t worthy of that.
I went back to my matchmaker once again – Grindr. I was a little addicted. I found myself spending hours out of my day on the app. I was searching with great fervor. When I woke in the morning, the first thing I did was reach for my phone and fire up Grindr. The next thing I did was grab my tablet and fire up Grindr on that. It was even better on my tablet. The pictures were bigger, I could multitask with my phone, etc. I fully realized how much time I was spending searching for a man. I saw how much of my day was stolen from me. It was like a second job.
On a few occasions, I would strike up a conversation with a guy I thought worthy of my time. One such man lived nearby in Jersey City. We started chatting on Grindr, and I did what I always do. I asked him for his number so I could take things out of the Grindr app and start a conversation over text. I always asked for a picture from the start so I could keep the guys straight in my phone contact list. I kid you not when I tell you I have around 100 contacts from Grindr, Adam4adam.com, ManHunt and OKCupid. I had a system in place as well. Everyone’s name began with where I met them. I was cataloging these guys in theory. Some I never spoke to on the phone, let alone met them in person, but they were saved no less.
After getting this guy’s number, We texted about chatting on the phone some night. He picked up the phone and called me. This earned him a lot of brownie points in my book.
We started with the superficial things – Where we lived. He told me all about his building. I was quite familiar with it. I’d run past it on many occasions. This morphed into a discussion about where we grew up. He was fascinated to learn I grew up out in the country on a farm. Through texting, I’d already learned he was from Canada. I told him how surprised I was he didn’t have a Canadian accent. It popped up a few times, but quite infrequently for someone who grew up there.
I quickly learned he certainly fit the Canadian nice guy stereotype. Everything he said was sweet and polite.
I learned he was slightly older than me. This wasn’t an issue for either of us. I had always liked slightly older men, but I am always leery that older men aren’t thrilled with dating a younger man. I’m quite mature for my age, so I hope my personality can make up for the age gap.
We chatted about our jobs, and I learned he worked in the travel industry. He jetted around the country and internationally quite frequently. He even mentioned the possibility of taking someone like me with him on said trips. I wasn’t getting ahead of myself, but I did enjoy the idea of traveling with my boyfriend to far off locations. He detailed many of the perks, which I really enjoyed, but I didn’t want to let that cloud my perception of him. On the flip side, I told him one of my most embarrassing secrets. I told him I’d never left the country with the exception of Windsor Canada from Detroit. He told me it wasn’t a big deal, and he would help me remedy that issue.
Somehow we got on to the topic of dating and being single and previous lovers. He wasn’t very forthcoming with the information of his major heartbreak, but all it took was one question for him to tell me the overarching story. It seemed it was a sensitive subject, but he was willing to tell me the story. He was dating a man for seven years. This was before he was traveling for work. He was scheduled to go away for work, and at the last-minute, his trip was cancelled. He came home to their shared residence to find his boyfriend in their bed with another man. I expressed my grave sympathy. After seven years with someone he must have been crushed. My heart broke for him. He told me he simply told his boyfriend he needed to move out and that was the end of them.
I tried to lighten the mood and asked him what he likes to drink. Ironically, our lists shared a lot of the same drinks. It was uncanny how similar our pallets are. I learned he too is a fan of Malbec. We discussed how it would need to be present on our first date. I was happy we were on the topic of meeting for a date. He seemed like a great guy. Maybe he was the ship I was searching for in the storm.
I asked him what he was looking for, and he described his ideal situation. Amazingly, our perfect pictures lined up quite impressively. I was really excited to meet him. I only had one picture, and he appeared to be an attractive man. I was more excited to meet him to see how strong the chemistry would be. It was already pretty strong considering we spoke on the phone for two hours.
Only time would tell, and we made tentative plans to grab a drink or dinner in the near future.
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Sunday night in LA, I took quite a blow to my heart. I tried to prepare myself for the inevitable goodbye, but I didn’t get to say goodbye. I’d driven all over LA trying to connect with The Navigator, but he wasn’t responding.
I faced facts and drove to the airport. I had no idea what else to do with my time, so I just drove to the car rental lot and returned my car. I figured I could at least use some time at the airport to blog a bit. I sat int he airport diner and ate my dinner alone.
My flight home was awful. First off, it was a redeye. I was set to land at 6:00am Monday morning. I had to go to work later that day so I tried my best to sleep on the plane. It was also awful because I was crammed in a widow seat towards the back of the plane. My airline status with United got me nowhere. I barely fit in my seat, and I wasn’t able to stretch out and walk around because the two men next to me were sleeping the entire flight.
I managed to sleep for two hours, but woke up after that. I had no feeling in my ring and pinky finger of my left had. Apparently I slept on it funny. When a fair amount of time passed, and I never regained feeling, I became worried. Maybe I had a blood clot or maybe I’d done some nerve damage. I tried to think about other things and distract myself, but I really started to get worried. I took out my laptop and did some more blogging, but even that was a challenge with two numb fingers. I was really starting to worry, but the feeling didn’t return the rest of the flight. (Four weeks and a doctor appointment later, and I finally regained feeling — I had a nerve impingement — Cubital Tunnel Syndrome).
I was exhausted all day at work Monday. I’d only gotten a few hours sleep on the plane and about one hour in my own bed before work. When I got home after work, I was still horny from my rambunctious trip. I was on Grindr, and a cute guy from the city wanted to come over for some fun. I didn’t turn him down since he was hot and said he’d wear his jockstrap.
When he arrived, I realized he was a redhead. He also had a slight Hispanic accent. He was also quite a presence clocking in at 6’4″. He was not born in America, but had been here a majority of his life. He was decent on the eyes, but nothing you’d run to your friends about. When he arrived we went straight to my room. He slowly got undressed and comfortable until we were both laying on the bed, me in my boxer briefs and him in a jockstrap.
Warning: The following may be too graphic for some. I found the jockstrap very sexy. I’ve always been attracted to the athlete types and find locker rooms to be one of the sexiest places. They just turn me on. Always have.The jockstrap really gave him the leg up in my book. He was looking for a hot top, and I agreed to fill the position, literally. I broke out the condoms and lube, and we have a good time. Sometimes it was a little weird and awkward, but sex is never perfect! He really seemed to be enjoying himself. I did as well, but I could already tell this guy was going to linger. He was a gentle spirit. This would be no wham bam thank you man. I was going to have to sit through some pillow talk.
He started talking about his grandmother and how she is sick. He was flying home the following day to see her before she passed away. It wasn’t looking good. I started to feel bad for him, but then my emotions became distracted when he mentioned things like sleeping with her in her hospital bed. He looked like he was ready to cry, but all I could think about was this strange layout in a hospital room. I understood he was close to her, as she was responsible for raising him, but some of the things he was saying with his accent seemed very strange to me. There was obviously a cultural divide.
After we chatted some more, and he asked if he could use my shower. Now he was really pushing it! I obliged the request, but after that, he was gone.
He showered and toweled off. He began to get ready to go home. He talked about getting together again when he got back. He mentioned how heartless a lot of the other guys he’d hung out with were, and how sweet I was. He said how much he liked me. He wanted this to be an ongoing thing of friends with benefits. He told me his real name and that the name he gave me, Keith, was completely made up. Someone was a little paranoid. I felt like I found a stray puppy who wanted to follow me home. There would never be a next time, but I told him to hit me up when he got back from visiting his grandmother. After about three weeks, he did of course text, and I of course did not respond.
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