Posts Tagged talkative

Chelsea Lately

Since we saw each other over the weekend, I had tentative plans to see Chelsea again on Monday after work.

I texted him during the day to figure out somewhat of a game plan. When I finished work, I walked to his apartment in Chelsea. He buzzed me in, and greeted me at his apartment door with a kiss. I got caught up on his day a lil’ while we sprawled on the couch a bit. He was in a good mood and was very talkative. After we lounged a bit, we started talking about what we wanted to do for the evening. Between the two of us, we couldn’t really come up with a game plan other than to find drinks and food somewhere.

He finally suggested Sushi Samba. I had never been, but I had their food before. It was amazing. I knew it was a little pricey, but I wasn’t really under a budget these days. As long as he was cool with it, I was game. We walked through the West Village, my favorite neighborhood in the city. We talked as we walked and had great conversation.

We sat at a table on the upper terrace of Sushi Samba since it was an unseasonably nice day, so we decided to order summery, fruity drinks. I ordered a melon drink and he ordered something with passion fruit. Both drinks were excellent, but ironically we enjoyed the other’s drink far more. For the next round we ordered the same, but swapped. We also decided to order a few small appetizers. Everything was great, and I was having a really nice time with Chelsea. We were both relaxed and enjoying the night. It just felt easy. Nothing was forced. I was liking him more and more. He was masculine enough. He was tall, good-looking, a sweetheart… There was little I could find to complain about.

On top of all this, he insisted on picking up the tab when it arrived. No matter how much I protested, he wouldn’t let me split the bill. Finally, I gave up. I was a bit shocked as well, because the tab came to $130 for drinks and apps. We hadn’t even gone to dinner yet — That was next.

One of his friends worked at a Brazilian restaurant nearby, Berimbau, and after trying to get ahold of him, he finally got the address. We made our way three blocks to the restaurant and were seated at a cute, romantic table for two. We decided what to order and both enjoyed our meals. The conversation continued to flow while we ate and even a little under the table leg stroking occurred. I was happy. This guy was turning out to be quite a catch.

While I was rubbing his knee, we started talking about PDA, and I came to learn he wasn’t very big on it. I find myself being a bit shy with PDA as well, but if the right guy gets me out of my shell, I go with it. I’m still building up that comfort level. He, however, did tell me he certainly had no problem with the leg rubbing. He was rather enjoying that, and so was I.

We shared dessert, and I insisted on paying the tab. He didn’t put up a fight.

We walked back to his place. It was a really nice night, and we enjoyed ourselves. Everything felt easy and casual. I liked that a lot. Things were going well, but for some reason, something was still holding me back.

I was pretty tired by the time we arrived back at his place. We hopped into bed and fooled around for a bit. I still had no idea if he was a top or bottom. I wasn’t looking for sex, but I was curious if I could find out the answer. I began to slowly inch my finger toward his bottom until I was “knocking at the door,” but he rather quickly jerked my hand away and stated, “I’m going to have to mentally prepare before that’s going to happen.” I laughed, and we both shrugged it off. That told me he didn’t normally bottom, but he wouldn’t be opposed to it after we got a little more comfortable. After another bit of time, we snuggled up and dozed off.

Once again, we both slept poorly. I was up every five minutes throughout the night. I woke up exhausted. To make matters worse, it was incredibly gloomy and rainy, and he didn’t have to go to work. I did. He sprawled out on the couch in his briefs. He certainly didn’t have a problem stripping down in front of me anymore. He sat there visually teasing me while I got dressed. I came over and joined him on the couch for the little time I had left before I needed to make my way to work. I needed to get a little before I left. The teasing was a little too much for me. I stood, gave him a kiss, gave his package a gentle little squeeze and made my way across town.

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Breakfast 2.0

I continued my walk of shame north on Seventh Avenue. I was still dressed for a night out from New Year’s Eve the night before. I didn’t care if anyone judged me. I was in my own world. No one else existed that morning. I was utterly alone in a city of millions.

I continued to try to reach Boston through text and by phone, but no dice. Since I was going to be near his apartment, I thought I would reach out to Broadway. At the very least, I could kill time with a visit until Boston finally decided to get back to me. I called him, and he picked up after a few rings. I asked him what he was up to and told him I wanted to swing by for a visit. He was still in bed and said he needed a few minutes, but he told me to come by. I told him I was walking from the 20s, so there was no rush for him to get out of bed.

When I arrived, I walked right up to his apartment. It was like old times — A blast from the past. It’d been months since I’d been there, but it felt like yesterday. I knocked on the door, and he greeted me. I came in and sat while he finished getting ready for the day. We sat on the couch, and he asked how my New Years was. “Tell me stories. You always have good stories to tell me,” he added. I told him what I did the night before. I gave him the cliff notes because I didn’t want to belabor the point. The wound was still fresh and bleeding. He shrugged it off and suggested we go to the diner for breakfast. I kinda loved that about him. He knew how I felt about it, so he did his best to brush it under the rug.

I agreed to go to breakfast, but I told him I’d already eaten. I would keep him company, and we could catch up. It’d been since the summer since I’d seen him.

Breakfast was nice. He told me about the party he went to the night before and all the guys he was pursuing. As usual, he was very passive about it. “I dunno if I really want to see him again…” he’d say. He’d find something completely superficial to judge the guy about so he wouldn’t have to put in the effort.

Since Smiles’ birthday gathering, we gained a mutual friend. We learned this from Facebook. The guy who I palled around for the night had been at the party Broadway went to the night before. They interacted, but it wasn’t a positive interaction. Broadway was remotely interested in this guy, but apparently he gave him the cold shoulder. This really turned him off, but I assured him my birthday buddy was a really great guy. If I’d been single that night, I probably would have asked him for his number. Broadway wasn’t sold.

Ironically enough, Smiles and I were almost at this party. It wasn’t until Smiles learned of the over-priced charge to enter that he decided we were just going to the house party. It was crazy to realize Broadway, Smiles and I were all swimming in the same circles in New York City. Apparently the gay community was pretty tight, even in a big city. It put it all into perspective. It also made me realize the picture of myself I painted when I let a stranger suck on my neck and face in front of the guy I was dating.

I wasn’t feeling very talkative, so I did a lot of question asking and listening. When Broadway finished his breakfast, he asked for the check. He wasn’t feeling well, so he wanted to go back to bed. I checked my phone, and Boston still hadn’t gotten back to me. I guess I wouldn’t see him before he left the city.

I walked Broadway back to his apartment and said goodbye. Something I learned from him was it is okay to kiss an ex on the lips when you see them. When I first came out, I was fascinated by how often gay men kissed each other. This was completely foreign to me and not something I was comfortable with. Even if I travel in a big gay pack, I don’t think I would be kissing my gay male friends. But, I felt comfortable kissing a man who I had kissed over a hundred times. So we exchanged a kiss and a hearty hug before I made my way to Port Authority to snag a bus back to Hoboken.

While I walked to the bus, I texted Smiles: “Since I have the day off tomorrow, can we do something fun?” I was hoping I could do some damage control and get us back on a happy track.

It wasn’t long before I received a simple text in response: “I have to work tomorrow.” I was already picturing a Monday afternoon with me sinking deep into the couch by myself in front of the TV. I was very disappointed, but it’s not like I had anything to say. I was the one who royally messed up here. I was going to have to deal with the consequences.

Later that evening, I talked to Boston on Facebook. I told him what I did and how things played out. We didn’t talk long, but promised to come back to the topic when he had more time.

I had time all day to assess the situation. Why wasn’t Smiles mad? I realized I wasn’t happy about this. It hurt even more. It showed me quite clearly how little I meant to him. I didn’t see any way to recover from this. I was pretty sure our relationship was over. And, since I’m pretty much a high schooler in the gay dating world, I hopped back on adam4adam.com and Grindr that night to see what was out there. I wasn’t throwing my line into the sea, but I could at least swim around and see what kind of fish were out there…

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