Posts Tagged trainer

Equilibrium

After our week in the “country” house, as CK liked to call it, it was time to utilize our city abode. It was in no shape, however, to be lived in. Sure, the new bed was delivered, the delivery of which was a bit of contention between us, but the bed was surrounded by towers of boxes.

The day the bed was delivered followed a week straight with CK. There were errands I needed to take care of I never got to do when we were together. Because of this, I dropped CK off for the bus and told him I would meet him in the city later. I was trying to be productive with my time, rather than waiting for the bed to be delivered with him. Looking back, we probably should have just done them together, but at the time, I didn’t want to subject him to my boring burdens.

We were both eating dinner when I cooked at my place, so there’s no reason I should feel guilty dragging him to the grocery store. Going forward, I learned to shed that guilt quite easily. But on the flip side, this meant I would be going to the grocery store with him on the other side of the river. That seemed like a much better arrangement. I was beginning to resent that I had to do the responsible duties while he had all the fun, but that wasn’t fair to him. He never turned me down when I asked him to help me, but in reality, I never asked him in the first place. I couldn’t resent him if I didn’t give him the chance to delight me. There were lots of not exciting things we would both need to do, like cleaning our apartments, that while not fun at all, they could be completed much faster with both our efforts in tandem. Our lives were blending together, and I loved it. It wasn’t smooth, but I loved it.

On the flip side, since we were spending so much time together, I was finding it hard to make the time to work out. My body was paying the price, and as a result, my self-esteem plummeted even lower. I needed to start running again. I needed to get back in the gym and start lifting again.

This posed the challenge of a delicate situation. CK proposed that we work out together. I knew I was a far better runner than CK was. That’s not a dig against him at all, but put simply, I ran cross-country in high school and swam in college. In order for me to get results from my workouts, I needed to push myself, and I needed to push myself hard! I wouldn’t be able to do that if I was holding back to run at CK’s pace. I didn’t want to insult him or his abilities, but I wasn’t sure this was something we’d be able to integrate.

Regardless of this, I decided to make an effort to give it a shot. When I told CK I wanted to go for a run one night, he wanted to join me. We both got ready and walked over to the west bank of the Hudson to run along the trail. As I predicted, we clocked a pace much less effective than I was hoping. I decided I needed to speak up. I was met with the response I had dreaded. He took insult to my comments that I needed to run faster. I didn’t know any way to navigate this without creating a conflict. He took it personally that I was insinuating he was holding me back.

As a result, he played the role of the martyr and told me to take off. The result of running at our own pace was what I was hoping for, but the hurt feelings and passive-aggressive response was exactly what I was hoping to avoid. I tried to talk to him about it to make it a discussion so there would be no hurt feelings, but he wanted none of it. He’d rather I just go, so that’s what I did.

While I ran, I thought about how to deal with the fallout of this. It made sense to me that we work out together, but we needed to do it in a way that benefited us both. I was going to resent it if I wasn’t getting the full potential out of the workout, and that benefits no one. That’s when I came up with a solution:

When we ran together, we would start out together at a warm-up pace. When I was sufficiently warmed up, I would pick up the pace and run ahead of him. When I felt I was half way through the workout, I would turn around and pick him up on the way back. When I overtook him, I would slow down to a cool down pace. I thought it the perfect solution.

It’s also basically what we were doing. When I turned around, I quickly came to find myself right behind him. As we ran, I proposed this new idea, but he still wasn’t having any part of it. I realized I was in a losing battle, and this would have to be addressed later when his ego healed.

Working out in the gym was also a whole other battle. When I go to the gym I like to be by myself. I do not treat it as a social excursion. I am there to work out and go home. I don’t even like spotting someone when they ask me for help. I resent it because I am there for my workout, not theirs. I don’t ask anyone else to spot me. I am not a trainer or an employee. Why should I be “working” at the gym? I know this sounds very antisocial, and that’s exactly what it is. I’m not the biggest fan of lifting. I see it as a necessary evil. I want to get in and out of there as quickly as possible.

When CK asked me to lift with him all the time, I was very hesitant. I loved him, but I was so used to lifting by myself. I knew if we did this together, I would get cranky, and it would start a fight. I was trying to save us from that. I also liked to go to the gym during my lunch break at work, so when he would ask me to hit the gym with him in the morning or the evening, I wouldn’t want to. I would want to use that time for far more fun things.

It was going to be a delicate balance, trying to integrate our lives, but eventually we would find equilibrium. Both sides would have to make sacrifices and concessions, but both sides would benefit from each other as well. Needless to say, CK was the first guy I’d gone to these steps with. It was new territory for me, but it was certainly exciting as well!

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Am I Broken?

The following topic of conversation is very embarrassing and very personal. It’s not easy to talk about, but I have a strong feeling I am not the only one who suffers from the issue. Warning: It may make some of you uncomfortable. I am exposing myself in this post, but I feel I need to face my demons to be able to get over them. I also feel guilty writing about this, because it’s a bit of an invasion of privacy for others, but I also feel it’s necessary if I’m being honest with myself and this blog. I wonder if someone out there may have insight to help me and others with this predicament. I feel the need to shine a light on this issue, as no one is talking about it.

My intentions were obvious this time around with Smiles. My hand was down his pants fondling him until I was pushed away with a grunt. There was no misconstruing my intentions. After being denied sex yet again by Smiles, I felt the need to consult my council.

I called Boston for his take on the situation. I explained being denied sex on more than one occasion. His immediate response was, “Oooooo. That’s not good. Something isn’t right.”

I responded, “I know, right? I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t making a mountain out of a mole hill.”

We chatted about the issue, and he told me I needed to address the issue. “Sex is an important part of any relationship, and based on what I read in your blog, sex is important to you,” he added. We discussed the best way to bring it up. The main consensus was waiting until the relevant situation arose. He suggested I don’t bring it up over dinner. If I was denied again, I should bring it up immediately to find the root of the problem.

This was the point in the conversation where I made a small confession of my own. I was worried I may have been to blame for the quantity. I explained my climaxing issue to Boston for the first time in full detail. I told him, while I’d been with Smiles a few times, I had yet to climax. This was through no fault of Smiles. This was a common occurrence for me dating back to the days I was with Broadway. In fact, I feel it was a large part of the reason we broke up. It put a lot of strain on the relationship. He took it personally, even though I assured him it had nothing to do with him. I was still quite attracted to him and still received pleasure from sex, but I wasn’t finishing.

I never was able to find the root of my problem. For a while, I hoped it would fix itself. When it didn’t I explored a number of theories. The leading one being I hardwired my brain to function in a specific way in relation to sex.

For 16+ years, my main outlet for my sexual frustrations was viewing gay porn and pleasuring myself. I wasn’t dating men, and I wasn’t exactly a lady killer either. I would go home, open the laptop, and take care of myself. I worried my brain was hardwired to react only to that stimuli.

I wanted nothing more than to “fix” this issue. For some time, I masked it by prepping myself. If I knew Broadway and I would be having sex, I watched porn before I saw him to build up a “spank bank.” I referred to this when he got me close to finishing to get me over that last hill. It worked for some time, but eventually that solution lost its effectiveness. That’s when things got really bad. I got so stressed about it, when the moment came, there was nothing I could do but think about my lack of performance. I was so wrapped up in the issue, there was no unwinding me at that point.

I had many frank discussions with Broadway on the subject. After discussing it, we agreed not to talk about the issue for some time. It was the only way I was going to be able to relieve some of the pressure I was putting on myself. Eventually it did the trick, and I had my happy ending. However, it wasn’t a 100% solution. Most of the time, I was only able to cum after he performed oral sex. A majority of our relationship, I never climax from anal penetration. The issue was still there. It was just lessened.

It wasn’t as big an issue with San Francisco because we were an entire country apart. When I was physically with him out in San Francisco, I had no issue. When we Skyped, it took slightly longer, but eventually I climaxed. After San Francisco, I slept with a handful of guys. I specifically remember it being an issue with The Trainer. I know it’s not an issue of physical attraction, because he had a body like a god! However, I had to finish myself off that time, and it took some time.

When I was dating N, it took a long time, but I almost always finished. He started noticing my “condition” as time went on. We discussed it lightly, but I think he was under the impression it just took me a little longer than most guys to finish. As I’ve said before, I had to resort to my “spank bank.” Many times, what I was imagining involved the two of us. I wasn’t even imagining porn stars. It was the two of us in different scenario/locations other than in my bed.

Over the summer, it wasn’t really and issue for me. I had no strong connection to the guys I was sleeping with. It was purely recreation and my own need to get some crazy out of my system. I had no pressure or image to keep up. I was just having fun, and it worked.

The first time Smiles and I had sex, I bottomed. No matter who I have been with, I have never finished from bottoming. It has its pleasures, but it never had that effect on me — Hence my status as a preferred top. With Smiles, there was one time when I was very close during oral sex. I was right there, but I just couldn’t close that final gap. After we had sex other times, and I still didn’t finish, I began to morph my theory.

I have a very high pain threshold. Because of this, I wonder if I am in turn cursed with a high pleasure threshold. Maybe it takes more to get me off. I also wondered if my stimulation comes from something more visual. Maybe I need to witness the penetration to climax. Again, these are all just shots in the dark, no pun intended, but I want nothing more than to figure out this enigma. However, I haven’t been able to test my theory at this point.

Smiles expressed his interest early on to work with me to figure this out. It meant a great deal to hear him verbalize this to me. I need someone who can be understanding and patient with me if I’m going to lick this thing.

After I talked to Boston, after a drunk night at the bar, I discussed in length with D my issue. This was really tough for me because I am so embarrassed by the situation. It makes me feel like less of a man. He was helpful in our discussion and helped me feel more comfortable talking about it.

I also called to Broadway. I didn’t exactly feel comfortable talking to him about the details of my new relationship, nor did I think it was fair to him. But, he had experience with this issue. He knew what was going on with me, and maybe now that we weren’t together, he could help me find the key. When I told him I was being denied sex, he immediately said, “Something’s wrong! That’s not normal. You need to talk to him about it.” Everyone was telling me what I already knew, but not what I wanted to hear. In thinking I was partially responsible for the situation, I brought up my issue. Maybe he was avoiding sex with me because I couldn’t finish.

Broadway told me I needed to stop being so stupid about it. I was stressing myself out over it, and that wasn’t going to solve anything. I needed to acknowledge to myself the issue and go see someone about it. I told him I had been entertaining the idea of going to see a therapist, but it takes a very special type of therapist for such a sensitive issue. It wasn’t exactly the easiest thing to find in the yellowpages. He again just indicated I needed to talk to someone about it if I wanted to get over it. He also reminded me I needed to talk to Smiles directly about why we weren’t having sex more often.

The next morning when I woke, I sent Smiles a message detailing my desire for him to be in the bed next to me and how horny I was. He responded positively and seemed he would have been up for morning sex had he actually been there. I was surprised considering a few hours earlier I was denied.

We made plans for Sunday, and I went on with my pondering my issue for the rest of the day. Did he think I didn’t enjoy sex? That certainly isn’t the case. Even if I don’t finish, I still thoroughly enjoy sex and still get a body high from it. Did it bruise his ego to know I wasn’t being fully stimulated by him? I can assure him, it is me, not him. There were a million questions, but no solid answers.

One thing is clear. I need help. I cannot solve this problem on my own, but maybe talking about it with my therapist, Dr. WordPress, will help me face my demons head on and conquer them. Only time will tell…

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Fire Island Bartender

I always get particularly excited when a new guy pops up on Grindr who happens to live in Hoboken. I have pretty much blocked all the gay men in Hoboken, so when a new one pops up, I notice.

One in particular messaged me and was pretty cute. In his pictures, he looked like he had a good body and seemed very nice and genuine. After we chatted a few times, we exchanged numbers and switched things over to texting.

He told me he was a trainer at NYSC, but he was on hiatus while he got a certification. In the meantime, he was working as a bartender on Fire Island. He was gone almost every Thursday through Monday. This made it very hard to find a time to meet up, but eventually we figured it out.

We decided to meet on a Tuesday evening at a Mexican restaurant in Hoboken, Charritos. I had only ever heard good things but had never been. He made a good choice. He spent the day out in the burbs of New Jersey at his friend’s pool, and he was late getting back because of rain and flooding. When he finally showed up in his ripped jeans, finely quaffed hair, tight T-shirt and leather bracelets, I knew this date was doomed from the start.

The night before I was warned about this guy. While talking to N, I learned they knew each other in passing. N had seen him working at the gym and told me he was quite effeminate. I became skeptical but open-minded at that point, but when I met this guy in person, the second he opened his mouth I was turned off. On top of that, I noticed how filled out he was. He was supposed to be a trainer. I would never go to a trainer who was that pudgy and couldn’t follow their own advice.

We sat and had a very nice dinner. We talked about coming out and our families’ reactions to the news. We chatted about work and what we do for fun. The conversation was nice, but there was no spark. He just kept looking at me with this big smile like he wanted to gobble me up. I got the feeling he was a bit lost in the world. He was openly gay, but I’m not sure if he knew how to navigate life with men. I shouldn’t talk, because I have no idea what I’m doing, but he seemed like his GPS was slightly off.

After dinner, he asked if I wanted to grab another drink somewhere. I obliged, but I should have ended the date then and there. I knew better. I clearly wasn’t interested in this guy and had an out to go home, but I felt bad for him. I felt like he needed a friend, so I stuck around. We went around the corner to Sushi Lounge and sat at the bar. We each ordered a round and continued our conversation.

Somehow the topic of the rainbow came up as a symbol for gay culture came up in conversation. I explained just how much I despised the rainbow. He was flabbergasted. He didn’t know how to react. I explained it was not something I embraced. I could understand why some people need a symbol to hold on to, but I was making every attempt to not let my homosexuality separate me from the rest of the world. I am a normal ordinary man who happens to like the company of other men. I don’t need a rainbow to broadcast who I am. On top of that, I find the rainbow aesthetically unpleasing. I could tell I really turned him off by all this, but he wasn’t going to argue.

Then the conversation turned to previous relationships. I told him about the two I had been in and the duration of each. He told me I had a longer relationship than any he’s ever had. When I asked him why, he asked the bartender for another drink. He was a broken gay man. I felt bad for him, but certainly no attraction towards him. I thought maybe I could be his friend.

After we split our tab, I walked him home. Much to my surprise, he invited me up. I have NO idea why I agreed, but I did. We sat on the couch with some wine while we watched one of the music channels. We got into a conversation about Lady Gaga. I told him I found her very inspirational and really got behind her message and what she stood for. He told me he was over her. We obviously were going to but heads, so I was about ready to leave.

At that moment, he took my wine glass, took off my shirt, and started kissing me. He was an awful kisser. All over the place. I did not want to be there making out with him. I did however feel he needed to be kissed. So, I suppose you could call it a pity kiss. After a short while, I told him I needed to go home. I had work the next day, and it was getting late. I said goodnight, and with that I was gone.

I made it as far as the bottom step of his apartment stoop when I realized I left my umbrella in his apartment. There was no way in hell I was coming back to this place to get it, nor did I really want to see him again after that night. So, I rang his apartment. He buzzed me in, and I went back up to get my umbrella. When I walked in the door, he pushed me back into a chair and mounted me. Apparently he wasn’t done. I immediately told him I needed to go. I only came back for the umbrella, not an encore. That’s when I really realized he only wanted me for my body. We didn’t have that great of conversation all night and disagreed a lot. We were obviously not compatible for a relationship, but maybe he was just horny. I was slightly offended and made my way home.

He immediately texted me: “Had a great night with you.” I didn’t respond immediately, but in the morning I texted: “I had a good time too.” After that, I was done with him. I was pleasant, but I didn’t give him hopes of a second date. He would not be a repeat offender. The next day he texted, “How was your day at work?” But, he would not get anything back from me. Once again, it was back to the dating pool…

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Coffee Break

Just as I was whittling the roster down, I felt the need to continue to build it up. Out of all the candidates, I only found one worth revisiting, Pillow. After what started as a bad date, I was happy with how it ended.

I still needed other options and distractions. I have a problem of diving in head first when I find a guy I like. If I have a few distractions, the chances of me doing that are far less.

I started talking to a very attractive man. He was very responsive, and we got into a great conversation. He’s a 34 year-old trainer in Manhattan who lives in Hell’s Kitchen — All pluses in my book. I also noticed his distinctive tattoos and found them very attractive. Strangely enough, he reminds me a lot of the first guy I dated, Broadway. And, in another twist of irony, his gym was a block from Broadway’s apartment. I walked past it hundreds of times. He mentioned his workout regime and how intimidated most guys were by it. I said, “They’re just weak!” He replied, “Oh. I like you! And, you’re my just type!” We talked about meeting after we were comfortable with each other.

Earlier that day, my boss had a meeting with my department and told us he wanted us to meet a new hire at 2:30. This was right about the time I was talking to the trainer about meeting for coffee. I suggested we meet at Starbucks to say hi, but it would have to wait until I met the new guy. When 3:30 rolled around, and he was still in my boss’s office, I decided I wasn’t going to wait around any longer. It was pouring that day, so we picked a Starbucks half way between us. I grabbed my umbrella and made my way towards him after postponing coffee almost an hour and a half. When I arrived, it was a packed house. It was a small Starbucks to begin with, but everyone was trying to escape the rain, customer or not.

I managed to find him in the crowd. We chatted while waiting for our coffees. I liked him. I felt very relaxed around him. We talked about work, family, what we did for fun, vacation, travel, etc. He was going skydiving in a week, so we had an interesting conversation about that. I told him about all the traveling I’d done so far this year, and he told me about his trip to Fire Island that coming weekend.

The only snag in the whole conversation was age. He wasn’t thrilled I was only 27. “I find myself being attracted to younger men lately though,” he said. He kinda shrugged it off as if to say, “I’ll give you a chance.”

The time came when I needed to head back to the office. He was disappointed I had to cut it short, but I promised him we’d hang out when he got back from Fire Island. With that, I gave him a hug and said goodbye. He said he’d text later that evening. I was thrilled.

He seemed like a really great guy. On top of that, he was very masculine and very sexy. I was looking forward to seeing him again. I had two dates in a week’s time that ended in success! This may have made all the bad dates worth it. That evening, we texted each other. It was a fun and playful conversation — All progress towards a real date.

The next evening, when I was heading home earlier than expected (see Friday’s post), I called to see if he wanted to grab dinner. When he picked up the phone, he said, “Hey, I’m about to grab dinner with some friends.” Can I call you back later?” And, like a true man, he called me that night. We had a great conversation, and once again, we talked about a second date upon his return to Manhattan…

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