By then, I was more finely-honed in the art of meeting gay men outside my "Fugetaboutit" Italian community. As for Ron... he wanted to stay awake at night watching TV and "chewing the fat". He also wanted to tell me all his problems. He described how he ignored advice, which consistently led to his problems. Smart friends had pleaded him not to leave Chicago. Caring friends tried to forewarn him that his time-management damaged his relationships. I would've been overwhelmingly thankful for such advice, to prevent my problems!
Regardless of Ron's wants, I wanted to bring young men back to my home (specifically my room)! I felt like I was avoiding a father, all over again.
One day, I told Ron that I invited Michael (seen below: a college-age ballet student, born in Ecuador), to our apartment, the next evening. I let it be known that we'd appreciate some privacy. Hint Hint. As I walked in the door with Michael (in his skintight white denim and sleeveless shirt),
Ron was dressed in button-down flannel shirt, sweater vest, and dress slacks—ready to "glad-hand my beau” in his Southern gentleman style. Ron's rambling overextended itself. After awhile, Michael uncomfortably tugged my arm towards the bedroom,
As sensually fun as we both agreed it was, I never saw Michael after that, because Ron was always home when Michael wanted to visit... and Michael didn't want to see Ron again. Some of Ron’s attempts at being humorous came across like “dirty old man” routines.
Other young men spent quality time in my room, and we heard Ron come home from a meeting or a flirtatious interlude that went wrong, hollering “Hello” through the closed door to my bedroom, or talking angrily to himself, making noise all over the apartment, or yammering loudly on the phone (complaining about how his life was going) while in his room—right next to mine… which ruined the mood. Some boys might care less about such distraction. Some might not be embarrassed to go from my room to bathroom (prancing in their underwear), under Ron's ogling stare. Unfortunately for me, my guys DID mind. Doesn't that make you feel great? A boy won't visit you because of your roommate, and based on that detail, you're not worthwhile.
Doing my best to coordinate "hookups" and "quickies" when Ron was gone, I STILL had the unfortunate bad luck to "get screwed" without getting screwed. After inviting an online Asian guy (his profile picture is below) to my place, he suddenly cancelled.
After successfully inviting another guy (who used a gym in my area), the first one messaged me to say that he could actually come. Preoccupied, I didn't see his message. The second guy arrived on his skateboard... because skateboarders (skater boys) are a popular fay fetish.
While we were active in my bedroom, my doorbell rang. Repeatedly. Putting underwear on, I went to the door but the first guy was already walking away. Evidently, his plans cancelled and he was trying to be with me again. Turning around, I saw the guy in my apartment getting dressed and wanting to leave. Telling him what happened, he told me to fetch the guy to join us for a threesome. The first guy heard my offer and agreed. My heartbeat quickened. When we all got together in my bedroom, the first guy judged the second guy and decided that he still wanted to leave. With his mood soured, the other guy left, too. Argh!
...where we stayed all night. I was thrilled with our passionate chemistry!
As sensually fun as we both agreed it was, I never saw Michael after that, because Ron was always home when Michael wanted to visit... and Michael didn't want to see Ron again. Some of Ron’s attempts at being humorous came across like “dirty old man” routines.
Other young men spent quality time in my room, and we heard Ron come home from a meeting or a flirtatious interlude that went wrong, hollering “Hello” through the closed door to my bedroom, or talking angrily to himself, making noise all over the apartment, or yammering loudly on the phone (complaining about how his life was going) while in his room—right next to mine… which ruined the mood. Some boys might care less about such distraction. Some might not be embarrassed to go from my room to bathroom (prancing in their underwear), under Ron's ogling stare. Unfortunately for me, my guys DID mind. Doesn't that make you feel great? A boy won't visit you because of your roommate, and based on that detail, you're not worthwhile.
Doing my best to coordinate "hookups" and "quickies" when Ron was gone, I STILL had the unfortunate bad luck to "get screwed" without getting screwed. After inviting an online Asian guy (his profile picture is below) to my place, he suddenly cancelled.
After successfully inviting another guy (who used a gym in my area), the first one messaged me to say that he could actually come. Preoccupied, I didn't see his message. The second guy arrived on his skateboard... because skateboarders (skater boys) are a popular fay fetish.
While we were active in my bedroom, my doorbell rang. Repeatedly. Putting underwear on, I went to the door but the first guy was already walking away. Evidently, his plans cancelled and he was trying to be with me again. Turning around, I saw the guy in my apartment getting dressed and wanting to leave. Telling him what happened, he told me to fetch the guy to join us for a threesome. The first guy heard my offer and agreed. My heartbeat quickened. When we all got together in my bedroom, the first guy judged the second guy and decided that he still wanted to leave. With his mood soured, the other guy left, too. Argh!
Nonetheless, I tried again. The punky Asian's profile indicated an interest in threesomes, so I tried to entice him to return to my apartment for the option of one. I invited him to bring a friend, but he denied having any. He made me research online for "candidates" and show their photos to him. After a slew of his rejections, I recommended my Hispanic f*ck-buddy. Finally, he was eager. Alas, my f*ck-buddy disliked Asians and only had sex with white guys and Latinos. (Soon after that, he started dating his boyfriend). I never saw the picky Asian guy again.
I went on a date at the Museum of Natural History with a young Chinese fellow named Steven. He was from Hong Kong.
His job was an engineer, and he liked museums and loved history. Our afternoon was lively, and I thought we shared chemistry. As the museum closed, I suggested going to a cafe. With honesty, Steven said that he didn't want to start dating me... but he would "sleep with me" immediately. He took me to his apartment, revealed a very nice physique...
and we had some of the best sex. I still remember that orgasm. We showered, he had a spare/new toothbrush that he gave me, I gargled with mouthwash, and he kissed me goodbye.
My disappointment evaporated when I received an invitation from another fellow to meet for drinks, that night. His name was Andrew. This was his faceless profile picture, and it caught my attention: sexy but not nude or vulgar.
Andrew was a culturally-minded flight attendant, born/raised in Chicago, with Mexican heritage. I learned that Mexico is officially named the United Mexican States, and the Gulf of California is within in, instead of the USA.
Our evening downtown was so splendid that our waitress assumed that we were already a couple. As our night ended, we attempted to separate several times, but Andrew's frisky kissing talents prevented that. We started dating.
Unavoidably, he met Ron. Ron thought
he was adorable. They reminisced about Chicago. Andrew lived far away in Kew Gardens, which is a neighborhood in Queens named for the botanic gardens of London. He lived in a shared space with other flight attendants, so he enjoyed staying overnight with me—with Ron always in next room. Andrew didn't seem to mind having breakfast, knowing Ron wanted to chitchat. (After setbacks with my court case, I was stressed, and he told me that my nightmares woke him). Andrew and I went to affordable restaurants, long winter walks around NYC's West Village, and were prone to cozily "make out" wherever we found secluded nooks. We even tried to set up Ron with the older friend of mine, but Ron didn't feel worthy. (Nobody had ever done such a thing for me, but I still did it for others). One day, I was with Andrew in Manhattan and encountered the young guy from my company whom I "came out of the closet" to—and whom I expressed "feelings" for. Recalling how he callously spurned me, I deliberately greeted him and introduced him to my boyfriend. He tried to seem happy for me, but his own life was a mess. I never saw him again, but I felt closure to that episode of my life. I told Andrew about it and similar moments, and he was sweetly empathetic. At a gay bar, the couple who owned it gave Andrew and I free drinks, saying how cute we looked together and how happy. Eventually, though, Andrew's turbulent, unpredictable schedule—and being gone for weeks at a time—broke things apart. "I have to let you go," were his last words, after a tremendously long kiss at the train station. I was heartbroken.
I went out with a perfectly muscled Chinese guy, named Jordan. He could've been an underwear model!
Our fun times lasted until a romantic bubble bath & candlelit evening...
...was interrupted by
Ron arriving home early from a date-gone-bad. Ron appeared with a bruise near his eye, which he claimed was from walking into a door. His toxic complaining and yammering all around the apartment ruined the mood. Jordan said that having “noisy Ron” always in the next bedroom or “poking
around” the apartment "with jealousy" was uncomfortable for him. I spoke to Ron, but his behavior failed to change. The breaking point was one night when Ron was tipsy and tried to be "funny" by taking a Rediwhip bottle of whipped cream and poking Jordan in his tightly curved ass! Jordan didn't like it. Ron had the temerity to do it two more times. Jordan got angry. Ron seemed clueless about what he did wrong. Jordan told me that he liked me a lot, but he couldn't invite me to his home, and he couldn't tolerate Ron, so he wouldn't come back to my home.
I hauled Ron into his room and gave him a heated lecture. "Where am I supposed to go each night? With what money?" he whined. I tried to console Jordan, with Ron agreeing to stay in his room when Jordan was visiting, but Jordan just didn't like the notion: things ended. I needed to find young men who could also invite me to their place, once in awhile.
I hauled Ron into his room and gave him a heated lecture. "Where am I supposed to go each night? With what money?" he whined. I tried to console Jordan, with Ron agreeing to stay in his room when Jordan was visiting, but Jordan just didn't like the notion: things ended. I needed to find young men who could also invite me to their place, once in awhile.
Next, I heard about a gay online dating site. On it, I noticed guys who
mostly wanted a one-night-stand. Read these lines to see what the profiles sounded like: an endless parade of miscreants in the urban jungle of NYC population:
Ah yes, such quality. After careful selection, I only invited a guy to my home if the chemistry was good and I knew Ron was out (yet because Ron had poor luck meeting men, it was unpredictable when he might return home). Many guys differed drastically from their online pictures. Some guys expected me to do all the work and receive no pleasure in return. No thanks.
Others lured me to a public place but then expected to swap fast oral, while their loved ones assumed they went out for an errand to the store, or went for a jog...
Guys who classified themselves as "thugs" chatted endlessly online but weren't willing to meet up. They only messaged me at 2am when they were totally drunk (fortified) for "booty calls". It was tiresome.
Eventually, a Belgian fellow, named Johnny, took me on dates. As a tattooed sommelier, he enjoyed dining out and had a fun appreciation of different wine varietals. He loved jazz, foreign films, and his nation's royal family. He was a nice mix of sophistication, worldliness, and spontaneity. That's him, below.
I thought it was amusing that his job was to give people nice things to taste, and his palate esteemed my penis as one of the nicest things to taste! Johnny lived with his parents on the south shore of Queens, 40-minutes away by car. He did not want to take me there for sex, and he didn't want to have sex at my apartment if my roommate was around. A few times, he took me to a hotel in my area. Next, we decided to have a daytime rendezvous at my place (since he had a car, and I didn't). On that morning, Ron left for work, and Johnny drove over. I greeted him in a bathrobe, and we took an aromatic shower together. He toweled off and came into my candle-scented room to find me naked under the covers. We had just gotten to the good stuff, when Ron suddenly returned home! He had mixed up his schedule, and he wasn’t due at the office that day! We heard him tromp throughout the apartment, grumbling to himself. Ron complained aloud about the f*cked-up/delayed/overpriced LIRR trains. He slammed cabinet doors while he made himself coffee and muttered to himself. It soured the mood. Johnny “lost his starch” and managed to sneak out when Ron was in the bathroom. It was the last time I saw him.
-You think I'm supposed to be face
down, ass up & dick hungry for a dude who can’t even bring a bag of weed
to the table?
-Visiting here!! GET ME WHILE YOU
CAN!
-Lookin for friendship... and maybe
more.
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-cu46 (see you for sex).
-CAMB (come at me, bro).
-cu46 (see you for sex).
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-iam on da site for the same reasons
u on here.
-Here's what i wanna do....You on your stomach, legs parted in V formation, ass lifted, while I
grab those cheeks firmly and rim then pump you!
-into twinks only.
-do you have abs?
-looking for cubs or otters only.
-do you have abs?
-looking for cubs or otters only.
-I'm very
picky; if I don't like, I block profiles.
-I don't
mind "thick" guys, but if your fat, I'm only friendly and not sexual.
-No oral but I like to f*ck.
-I'm shy but good dick and intelligence ain't things I lack!
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-I'm only interested in men of a certain taste and calibre.
-No FATS
or FEMS or white boys!
-Looking
for cock or ass with or without the boyfriend.
-I close my legs to married men.
-Masculine, big-dicked bottom looking for pipe!
-I close my legs to married men.
-Masculine, big-dicked bottom looking for pipe!
-Looking
for more than just the endless hookups... but let's be real.
-I am only human so I potentially could just be looking for some hot fun.
-I am only human so I potentially could just be looking for some hot fun.
-all guys
care about on here is looks, money and cars!
-If you have the lipstick and elbow grease to take my 8" uncut, then hit me up.
-Just want an active bareback sex life with upstanding gents who aren't emotionally vacant.
-I have a multitude of SICK fantasies. If you fulfill them, I'll make YOUR fantasies a reality, too.
-Love smooth holes only. Into lots of scenes.
-safe sex only, but like to cum inside without condom.
-Just want an active bareback sex life with upstanding gents who aren't emotionally vacant.
-I have a multitude of SICK fantasies. If you fulfill them, I'll make YOUR fantasies a reality, too.
-Love smooth holes only. Into lots of scenes.
-safe sex only, but like to cum inside without condom.
-9inch
hung n cut but im looking for friends only.
-Old men
stop hitting me up for free sex!!
-I can
self suck!
-please dont
think your entitled or eligable for dick or ass for no rea$on!
-Thin dudes UNDER 30 ONLY!!!
-Horny teen here that wants to suck an Arab d*ck. If I'm logged in, I'm looking.
-DL with 5.5" looking for DL, straight or bi. Be mobile or hosting.
-I'm 6.5' lightskin, 7" looking for masc, prefer niggas in hoodies.
-Dick delivery available near the shopping center.
-Have girl, but still need it up the ass. Looking for younger bi/DL types. Don't know why, but really into black, latin, and blatino dudes.
-Hotel visitors a plus!
-Hard, horny, need to release. Be somewhat in-shape & looking to jack off.
-Wouldn't mind getting sucked and might reciprocate if I'm feeling it.
-Latino muscular masculine here: oral, jo, and top if it gets there.
-Any boys out there interested in making out on this dreary night?
-New to the area! Wanna give me a tour, while I give you pleasure?
-Who likes to smoke, give & get head and f*ck, then smoke again. Don't be fat.
-Bi male looking for a nice couple to have fun with. I will top and bottom.
-Seeking a lunchtime encounter only.
-My buddy and I want to spice it up with more men: nonsmokers, no body art.
-After combing thru law libraries, some rimming would make my day!
-Got a fat ass and sick deep throat. Love men of color.
-I'm usually not interested in whoever begs to service me or get f*cked by me.
-NYC is crowded with lonely ppl but I'm here for sex. Friendship may follow.
-Horny teen here that wants to suck an Arab d*ck. If I'm logged in, I'm looking.
-DL with 5.5" looking for DL, straight or bi. Be mobile or hosting.
-I'm 6.5' lightskin, 7" looking for masc, prefer niggas in hoodies.
-Dick delivery available near the shopping center.
-Have girl, but still need it up the ass. Looking for younger bi/DL types. Don't know why, but really into black, latin, and blatino dudes.
-Hotel visitors a plus!
-Hard, horny, need to release. Be somewhat in-shape & looking to jack off.
-Wouldn't mind getting sucked and might reciprocate if I'm feeling it.
-Latino muscular masculine here: oral, jo, and top if it gets there.
-Any boys out there interested in making out on this dreary night?
-New to the area! Wanna give me a tour, while I give you pleasure?
-Who likes to smoke, give & get head and f*ck, then smoke again. Don't be fat.
-Bi male looking for a nice couple to have fun with. I will top and bottom.
-Seeking a lunchtime encounter only.
-My buddy and I want to spice it up with more men: nonsmokers, no body art.
-After combing thru law libraries, some rimming would make my day!
-Got a fat ass and sick deep throat. Love men of color.
-I'm usually not interested in whoever begs to service me or get f*cked by me.
-NYC is crowded with lonely ppl but I'm here for sex. Friendship may follow.
-What I'm
looking for depends on whom I'm speaking with.
-If u hit
me up means you are looking for dick. period.
-Let's
chill, f*ck and you go home.
-if you
are giving the "peace sign" in your photos, we are not a match.
-Boss Niggas apply only. I'm built for sharing ;)
-Boss Niggas apply only. I'm built for sharing ;)
-Me n you is nobody else's business. Host for safe quickies. Big dick, big loads.
-I don't
f*ck everyone. Only here for cool ppl.
-Into guys my height, not hairy or scruffy or clean cut. Looking for genuine guy.
-Into guys my height, not hairy or scruffy or clean cut. Looking for genuine guy.
-Love to
give body rubs n play football.
-Out: no Drugs: yes
-Visiting here for short time.
-If you see my profile online, its clear indication I am actively seeking sex.
-Visiting here for short time.
-If you see my profile online, its clear indication I am actively seeking sex.
-Lookin
for those parTy freaks only!
-I don't exclude anyone, but gingers and southerners and nerds to front of the line.
-Couple seeking fun. Be open-minded and a little adventurous.
-I don't exclude anyone, but gingers and southerners and nerds to front of the line.
-Couple seeking fun. Be open-minded and a little adventurous.
-I've got
a college degree, a great job, and a big dick. What more do you want?
-Here
now, who knows about later?
-Nicely cocked who drips precum like faucet looking to seed a young hole. I will not be loading your mouth. I will not pull out. In. Your. Hole. Only.
-Love being on poppers and sucking a guy to completion. No recip.
-If you really want my attention, shoot me a note on following topic "Israeli Apartheid: fact or slur?"
-Nicely cocked who drips precum like faucet looking to seed a young hole. I will not be loading your mouth. I will not pull out. In. Your. Hole. Only.
-Love being on poppers and sucking a guy to completion. No recip.
-If you really want my attention, shoot me a note on following topic "Israeli Apartheid: fact or slur?"
-if you
want me to come over, pay for the cab because I do not travel on public transportation
-Hey
guys! I'm 19yo, fun, fit, clean, negative.I want to f*ck a slave sex partner!
-I know
that I am a gem and I need a man who realizes it as well and treats me
accordingly.
-No
strict bottoms.
-looking
for low hangers!
-got guns and a six-pack? hit me up.
-got guns and a six-pack? hit me up.
-In an open relationship within certain parameters.
-Sadly,
it's impossible to just be nice to most of you.
-If your dick doesnt get hard when getting f*cked, please do not contact me.
-Looking for dominant/verbal
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about having fun! And smiling, with lots of laughter!
-no dudes with long hair. no one over 35yrs. if you don't have a 100% lean body don't hit
me up.
-I like dudes with white shiny teeth like mine.
-I like dudes with white shiny teeth like mine.
-yes my
dick is Big, i know what to do with it, but most of you dudes have all these
prerequisites!
-swimmer's-build college
student here for $erious offers only.
-The
transition of Boredom to Horny to Freak... Where am I now?
-Top
looking for hot lean studs to f*ck - hard.
-no time
for small talk, let's just do it.
-just
here to kill time... MOSTLY.
-Relationship
oriented. But I am not opposed to casual fun.
-Professional
rodeo cowboys to the front of the line!
-My girlfriend thinks she knows everything, but in reality I'm out sucking dicks better than her. Try me.
-I prefer
an uncut bottom or versatile with long foreskin.
-Yes I'm Horny and???
-Yes I'm Horny and???
Ah yes, such quality. After careful selection, I only invited a guy to my home if the chemistry was good and I knew Ron was out (yet because Ron had poor luck meeting men, it was unpredictable when he might return home). Many guys differed drastically from their online pictures. Some guys expected me to do all the work and receive no pleasure in return. No thanks.
Others lured me to a public place but then expected to swap fast oral, while their loved ones assumed they went out for an errand to the store, or went for a jog...
... or walked the dog!
Guys who classified themselves as "thugs" chatted endlessly online but weren't willing to meet up. They only messaged me at 2am when they were totally drunk (fortified) for "booty calls". It was tiresome.
Eventually, a Belgian fellow, named Johnny, took me on dates. As a tattooed sommelier, he enjoyed dining out and had a fun appreciation of different wine varietals. He loved jazz, foreign films, and his nation's royal family. He was a nice mix of sophistication, worldliness, and spontaneity. That's him, below.
I thought it was amusing that his job was to give people nice things to taste, and his palate esteemed my penis as one of the nicest things to taste! Johnny lived with his parents on the south shore of Queens, 40-minutes away by car. He did not want to take me there for sex, and he didn't want to have sex at my apartment if my roommate was around. A few times, he took me to a hotel in my area. Next, we decided to have a daytime rendezvous at my place (since he had a car, and I didn't). On that morning, Ron left for work, and Johnny drove over. I greeted him in a bathrobe, and we took an aromatic shower together. He toweled off and came into my candle-scented room to find me naked under the covers. We had just gotten to the good stuff, when Ron suddenly returned home! He had mixed up his schedule, and he wasn’t due at the office that day! We heard him tromp throughout the apartment, grumbling to himself. Ron complained aloud about the f*cked-up/delayed/overpriced LIRR trains. He slammed cabinet doors while he made himself coffee and muttered to himself. It soured the mood. Johnny “lost his starch” and managed to sneak out when Ron was in the bathroom. It was the last time I saw him.
One "bright light" was an invitation by a "Facebook friend" to his weekly 2-hour jazz
performances.
His awesome Aussie accent made the lyrics lively yet smooth.
Accompanied by piano, bass, drums, guitar, violin, and vibraphone, he sang at TONY (Time Out NY) Lounge. It was inside New World Stages. Its bar attracted a gay-friendly crowd: after work, before curtain-call, during intermissions, and for nighttime Karaoke (which featured some GREAT singers, often some aspiring musical theatre kids working off-Broadway). Thankfully, the lounge didn’t charge a cover fee, nor did it have a drink minimum. The free jazz became a highlight of my week.
I loved my friend's singing; the dreamboat crooner was "nice on the eyes", too. Sporadically, I brought several coworkers, and even some college friends (who wanted to reunite, after they found me on Facebook). Ron tagged along several times, sticking to my side like a shadow. Everyone adored the music!
Because the performances were on Thursday nights, I had to make sure I left work on time—still wearing my suit and winter overcoat—catch the bus to the Manhasset train station, take the $10 one-way / 45-minute Long Island Railroad ride to Penn Station in NYC (in red below),
then take the subway or walk 20 blocks north to the lounge in the West 50s. (Sadly, I had to retrace all those steps to get home, which sorta killed my buzz).
I loved my friend's singing; the dreamboat crooner was "nice on the eyes", too. Sporadically, I brought several coworkers, and even some college friends (who wanted to reunite, after they found me on Facebook). Ron tagged along several times, sticking to my side like a shadow. Everyone adored the music!
Because the performances were on Thursday nights, I had to make sure I left work on time—still wearing my suit and winter overcoat—catch the bus to the Manhasset train station, take the $10 one-way / 45-minute Long Island Railroad ride to Penn Station in NYC (in red below),
then take the subway or walk 20 blocks north to the lounge in the West 50s. (Sadly, I had to retrace all those steps to get home, which sorta killed my buzz).
I felt like a "kid in a candy store" because it was truly my first "regular" experience in a gay bar. Being such a friendly fellow, I felt certain that I'd quickly make friends. I hoped for a "welcome" to their gay-inclusive group—after my long journey to get there.
However, NYC's gay guys can be as shallow, judgy, and exclusive as WASPs or frat boys. That baffled me. Many many many of them are snarky, judgmental, and have lofty attitudes. I anticipated gay bars to be LGBT "Safe Zones"...
...but not in NYC. (Many other places in the world have them, instead). In NYC, gay bars will let you in--because they want your money--but don't expect most guys to be nice to you.
When foreigners arrive in their own "racial community" of a new country, the community usually embraces them. Coworkers of the same heritage often befriend each other. Neighbors of the same religion welcome each other. Yet, gay men of NYC are often rude, racist, discriminatory, superior, and uncaring. It was definitely not "gay friendly", as advertised.
My "work" clothes worked against me. Guys evaluated my outfits and didn't return my smiles. (My company wouldn't let us change at the store. Nor did they let us keep clothes there). Since I didn't judge boys who dressed effeminately or butch or slutty (lets call it risqué), I hoped they would befriend me, regardless of my clothes. Perhaps some dates!
But not in THAT part of gay culture. "City gay social life" is a shirts-off / drugs-in carousel of sex, shameless rejection, self-absorption, showing off, and seductive dancing. LIFE LESSON: It's mostly about the size of your body (waist/pecs/biceps/ass), the size of your wallet, the size of your penis, and the tightness of your clothes (which showcase the previous 3 things).
Sometimes, biceps and abs were the same quality:
[A young man surgically "enhanced" himself to resemble a Barbie "Ken doll", to better socialize in the arena of NYC. Desirable at clubs, I've often seen him encircled by others.]
After overdue equality, gay men reverted to age-old insecurities. Their mentality had not matured.
We all like cute men, but sadly, many gay guys select their FRIENDS based only on those aforementioned things, too (unlike heterosexual men who have friends of various looks, appearances, and body types). Unlike hipsters—who respect unique "looks" and individual tastes—those gay guys were as "cookie-cutter" as the "guido" waiters or the college frat boys I'd known. Many had the same hairdo, outfits, and mannerisms. If you didn't have that "look", then they didn't "look at you". Instead, they ignored you, bypassed you, and occupied themselves on their cellphones.
It's truly disgraceful. For a group that demands acceptance, they are the most discriminating group in NYC. They cannot be friends with people easily. Their unending judgements disqualify people based on physical appearance, wardrobe, and lots of minutia. For people who crave to be seen—as evidenced by their outfits, mannerisms, and social media—they notoriously treat other people as if they are unseen and not there. It is a detestable double-standard. (Instead of such snobbery, I wanted to be in a place where I felt included).
[A young man surgically "enhanced" himself to resemble a Barbie "Ken doll", to better socialize in the arena of NYC. Desirable at clubs, I've often seen him encircled by others.]
After overdue equality, gay men reverted to age-old insecurities. Their mentality had not matured.
We all like cute men, but sadly, many gay guys select their FRIENDS based only on those aforementioned things, too (unlike heterosexual men who have friends of various looks, appearances, and body types). Unlike hipsters—who respect unique "looks" and individual tastes—those gay guys were as "cookie-cutter" as the "guido" waiters or the college frat boys I'd known. Many had the same hairdo, outfits, and mannerisms. If you didn't have that "look", then they didn't "look at you". Instead, they ignored you, bypassed you, and occupied themselves on their cellphones.
It's truly disgraceful. For a group that demands acceptance, they are the most discriminating group in NYC. They cannot be friends with people easily. Their unending judgements disqualify people based on physical appearance, wardrobe, and lots of minutia. For people who crave to be seen—as evidenced by their outfits, mannerisms, and social media—they notoriously treat other people as if they are unseen and not there. It is a detestable double-standard. (Instead of such snobbery, I wanted to be in a place where I felt included).
In life, almost everyone wants to get noticed, and I understand that. But such exclusive behavior has a downside. Gay life wasn't always that way, and it's a shame that it pushes so many homosexual men to contort into false "selves" to be accepted. It's almost as if gay males strove (for a long time) for social acceptance... and now they have newly-imposed "criteria/expectations" to abide by—just in order to be accepted by their own. Example: a gay Japanese man on the subway spoke his native language perfectly and gestured normally, but upon switching to English for his gay buddies, he suddenly had a lisp and swishy mannerisms. ???!!!
If you're from Italy, you'll have an Italian accent. If you're from Texas, Georgia, Missouri, or Tennessee, you'll have an accent. But if you're homosexual, you don't need an accent! Yes, homosexuality has a flag, but I didn't know that gay men must have a lisping accent. It shouldn't matter if you have a sibilance or not.
One time, I was told, "You don't sound gay." ???!!! That's crazy!
Imagine being told...
What does THAT mean???? How ignorant!
At TONY Lounge, I politely disregarded a guy who rudely grabbed my ass. He scoffed back, "In this city, boys are like buses. They're good to ride. But if you miss one, there's another coming in five minutes." Great. Nice to meet you, too.
Unlike those guys, I live by the motto "Invite people into your life who don't look or act like you. You might find they challenge your assumptions and make you grow".
I can "swim amongst the best of them", but I'm also courageous & creative enough leave "admiring notes" that might resemble these:
But who else does that?
Behavior at gay bars doesn't have much to do with what's inside you as a person. Most people are trying to hide themselves. Why? They layer falsities over their true selves. Why?
(Below, an acquaintance named Reese [in the pink], lived in gay-up-and-coming Jackson Heights. He dove into a wild reckless gay life... until he crashed and his father hauled him back home overseas).
I thought that since many gay men had something in common (having to suppress their sexuality, at one time), it'd bind us together as a community… and they wouldn't act "divided" into "Have & Have Not". Not so. It was like being at a snooty private club: being judged, appraised, asked enough questions until I was "disqualified", and then dismissed. Each interaction was like an audition!
Dates? It seemed that nobody wanted to go out with a penniless retail salesman who wore suits (like me below)...
and who lived in far-away “no subway access” Bayside... with a 50-year-old roommate. Ah yes, it made me into a very attractive package. Not when 19-year-olds—with eyeliner, tank-tops, and waxed hair—fluttered and pirouetted nearby… and lived around the corner in Hell’s Kitchen or Chelsea.
Not when they lived in a city that was teeming with new arrivals of boys,
whom they could locate/identify instantly with cellphone apps like Grindr,
and who never knew the word "stomach": it was always "abs".
With a lithe yoga-toned frame, Jason was an exception. He liked my cuff links and Santoni boots, and he brought me to his luxury apartment at 502 Park Avenue ($$$). He worked in Finance, and his rich parents paid for his home.
He rimmed me and adored my oral skills on his curve, and we kept at it for a long time. Even though he was content as a bottom, he was so "turned on" that he wanted to top me, during the next time I visited. That was a compliment. Alas, as soon as he saw photos my home, he lost interest in me. It was as if a switch shut off in him.
As I rode home on the sluggish commuter LIRR back to Bayside, I imagined how nice it must be to look a certain way and simply be able to attract attention wherever I went. I couldn't fault those men for enjoying their "best assets" and savoring what life had to offer. "Life is a Banquet." Yet, I did notice that due to the high volume of guys to select from, city boys were finicky and choosier than Bayside boys. Unlike Long Island guys, city boys did hold your hand in public and kiss you in public… but you had to win many of them through money or muscles first.
Which was better? For me.. the guy who liked me for the person I was!
[There was the time that a TONY usher let me in for free to see a graduate performance from an acting school. Afterwards, everyone went across the hallway to TONY Lounge for drinks. The acting students assumed I was a suited-up recruiter. They took turns chatting with me, flirting, making "eyes", and one boy suggestively told me the name of the hotel where he was staying. But as soon as I honestly said that I was custom-suit specialist, the swarm evaporated. Nothing lost, nothing gained.]
Unfortunately—when not surrounded by their usual clique of friends, the "bar regulars" didn't seem interested in getting to know me. No one ever went out of their way to introduce themselves or initiate a conversation. Nobody. If I didn't initiate it, it didn't happen. I heard a one-time visitor murmur that I was wearing an "elitist Upper-East-Side" outfit. He and his friend stared mockingly at me, as if to say "who dresses like THAT anymore?"
I replied, "You're acting like RuPaul against my outfit because it's 'different', or because its not made by Gucci? I came straight from work. And I really didn't formulate any opinion of yours, so who's snubbing who? But I'll accept your apology in the form of a drink." The guys actually respected how "fierce" I was, with a dash of polite poise. They bought me a few shots at the bar, and we still know each other.
The second "queen" to snub me because of my "work clothes" got this reply from me, "Your attitude has a rude superiority that is more tiresome than those of privileged boys from Westport, Connecticut. It's like talking to an old man at a discriminatory country club or a prudish Victorian woman." He was astonished by that fact. Apparently, due to his good looks, nobody objected to his snarky rudeness... until me.
Guys at the bar burst out laughing, and one bought me a drink as a congratulatory reward.
The Karaoke host, Patrick, had the marvelous idea of encouraging bar patrons to befriend each other (and him, since he was a narcissist) on Facebook.
The Karaoke host, Patrick, had the marvelous idea of encouraging bar patrons to befriend each other (and him, since he was a narcissist) on Facebook.
One such "new friend" messaged me on Facebook to say, "I'm glad I met you! At first glance, I thought 'Oh brother, what guy shows up in a business suit?' I thought you'd be a dud. But you're full of life, you have great energy, and you're a great conversationalist. I was so impressed. And you really understood me. I feel that. You also had an enthusiasm of 'You came at me with an attitude that I'm a stiff guy in a suit, but I'll show you!' And you did. You're much more impressive than just the image I had of you. So sweet, so cute." (That's him).
Another one texted me, "It was super great to meet you. You're disarmingly upbeat! I guess since you've worked in retail for several years, my initial reaction triggered 'salesman trying to oversell', but once I calmed down a bit, I really appreciated how genuine and positive you are. I hope we see each other soon!" (That's him).
A slender fellow propositioned me for a threeway but the proviso was that he and I were only supposed to "service" a guy who proclaimed to be heterosexual but tolerated blowjobs from men. It required me to take a day off from work and go to NJ.
Another one texted me, "It was super great to meet you. You're disarmingly upbeat! I guess since you've worked in retail for several years, my initial reaction triggered 'salesman trying to oversell', but once I calmed down a bit, I really appreciated how genuine and positive you are. I hope we see each other soon!" (That's him).
A slender fellow propositioned me for a threeway but the proviso was that he and I were only supposed to "service" a guy who proclaimed to be heterosexual but tolerated blowjobs from men. It required me to take a day off from work and go to NJ.
With no orgasm guaranteed for me, I did not accept.
After several Thursdays, I worked myself into their clique and won over some friends. I also worked myself into some of their pants. The manger of New World Stages thought I was enticing and took me to his home and banged me vigorously. Alas, his practice was to only sleep with a guy once... due to so much variety appearing at the theatre/lounge.
I got acquainted with a Croatian guy.
He was named Randy. (The word "randy" means lustful, which was appropos LOL).
As a go-go dancer, he shook his booty at two city bars. We met online because he temporarily resided near me. He was only interested in sucking me... so I merely viewed/caressed his "beer can"-thick manhood while he deepthroated me. He was my "blowjob on speed-dial", and his Slavic sensualness was magical. One night, he walked me home from his apartment. We encountered a buff man in gym clothes, carrying groceries. They knew each other (I noticed a flash between their eyes and lips). The guy evaluated me, judged my proximity to Randy, and then told Randy, "It's been awhile, Randy. You should come over for a 'smokey' Sunday." Afterwards, Randy told me that he fooled around with that man... and that man's husband... together. Such was NYC gay life! I told Randy that I had to work on Sundays (it was one of the most prosperous days of the week) and couldn't go with him. Eventually, he relocated.
As a go-go dancer, he shook his booty at two city bars. We met online because he temporarily resided near me. He was only interested in sucking me... so I merely viewed/caressed his "beer can"-thick manhood while he deepthroated me. He was my "blowjob on speed-dial", and his Slavic sensualness was magical. One night, he walked me home from his apartment. We encountered a buff man in gym clothes, carrying groceries. They knew each other (I noticed a flash between their eyes and lips). The guy evaluated me, judged my proximity to Randy, and then told Randy, "It's been awhile, Randy. You should come over for a 'smokey' Sunday." Afterwards, Randy told me that he fooled around with that man... and that man's husband... together. Such was NYC gay life! I told Randy that I had to work on Sundays (it was one of the most prosperous days of the week) and couldn't go with him. Eventually, he relocated.
A young transplant from Southern California, named Sterling, took me back to "his place" (that's him).
He was a great kisser and possessed a delightful girth, but I discovered that he was actually merely a guest of the real apartment-owner, and he was moving away in 3 days. It was not what he had implied to me earlier! He was a drifter, but the memories of our amazing sex kept me warm, as I walked home on the frigid morning of our last escapade.
A few times, I went home with a hunky/scruffy Argentine named Fabio.
He was a great kisser and possessed a delightful girth, but I discovered that he was actually merely a guest of the real apartment-owner, and he was moving away in 3 days. It was not what he had implied to me earlier! He was a drifter, but the memories of our amazing sex kept me warm, as I walked home on the frigid morning of our last escapade.
A few times, I went home with a hunky/scruffy Argentine named Fabio.
During our first meeting, he said to me, "I must say, I'm very curious to see and feel you naked. I think you will be a wonderful lover." That's him below, and it was a great compliment.
He treasured my enthusiasm in the bedroom, and we loved to cuddle/chat (with his dreamy voice) afterwards. His penetrations were gentle, full, and passionate. Here is a typical text to me: "I appreciate the wisdom you seem to spout at every turn. I look forward to being great on top of you tonight." But after awhile, he texted me, "bowing out" because I was "a great guy but a bit too good for his taste." It was puzzling. A few months later, he texted me, asking if he could "crash on my sofa" for the night. His current "love" had shattered. I wanted the body heat, so my pride didn't stop me from letting Fabio visit. I was his only "friend" who responded to him. He was grateful in bed (yes, he was!) I pointedly commented, "That's what good guys do." He understood. My reputation went up.
I befriended and slept with an vivacious newcomer to NYC, named Tennessee, seen below. He was from Atlanta, Georgia.
Upon arrival in NYC, he had very unfortunate experiences. Like, me, he was initially "not admitted to the group". Despite being well-endowed, he was compelled to change his appearance to meet "gay city life requirements" and was soon in high demand in clubs and bedrooms around the city. He confided in me that while he took many of the "male opportunities" that he was offered, he often regarded them as shallow snobs. He saw a charm and a spark in me. We had similar pasts, and we clicked. Despite his busy schedule as a DJ, we socialized. As a result, I trustingly learned of his habit of secretly videotaping his lovers! It was quite a repertoire, with some familiar faces! Foursomes, "open door" group sex, bukkake events, gangbangs, and large orgies, too. And the things he got them to do! It was his prized trophy collection. I think he wanted someone trustworthy to share his wicked secrets with. You never know what happens when you snub someone… so be polite when possible! He "spread the word" about how much fun I was to have around. That removed more barriers.
Eventually, I enjoyed a few romps with those "pretty boys" who finally deigned to sleep with me. I did my best to forget that they previously disregarded me and undervalued me.
I enjoyed those moments for what they were.
For awhile, I had a routine with a white guy who bicycled to my home after his yoga class. His virile enthusiasm and firm physique were pleasurable. It was sexy to watch his ponytail bobbing as our bodies connected. He was one of the few guys to enjoy afterglow: spooning or being nestled together. He admired my vibe, outlook, and ability to "be present in the moment". He said that cute gay men attended his class, but he preferred to "get busy" with me.
I listen to people, I give sincere compliments, I remember what they say, I radiate good vibes, and I'm very positive and affectionate. Aside from sex, many gay guys truly crave a positive-minded person. They just don't know how to accept it, at first.
An unfortunate reality of gay life in NYC is that many guys stupidly follow the trend of unprotected (bareback) sex. To brag about their deeds, some guys proudly showed me audacious selfies or homemade videos on their cellphones. For me, that was a repelling turnoff. I might've gotten a reputation as a prude because I only play safely. But I am a healthy person, instead of a regretful one dealing with sexually-transmitted health issues. After years of seeing their escapades on social media, many of those guys cannot say the same thing.
Of course, when bar-friends invited me out for weekend events, I often couldn't go because I worked on weekends, still couldn't afford to miss any work, and didn't have much disposable income. Maybe to some, it came across as me refusing them for "better offers", but I really wished I could've gone with them to see Broadway shows, go to "house parties", have dinners, go to rooftop clubs, brunches, Fire Island parties, Spa Days, and road trips. But with only $300 in my bank account and the ongoing felony court case, I didn't. The world continued without me.
It would've been fun to join party-revelers for that October's Halloween Parade in the city.
Sigh... instead, Life had me dealing with:
At Christmas, guys were busy with pricey plans. I texted people and went online to meet new people, but nobody seemed interested in just "chilling" at their apartments. Instead, my older Long Island friend suddenly invited me to share festivities at his home, to offset the presence of his depressed 40-year-old son (and stay overnight, for convenience).
After buying my LIRR ticket and boarding the train to my friend's place, I suddenly got texts from a 25-yr-old Jew named Ari whom I met online. (That's him below. He described himself as "into polyamory, and never heteronormative").
Him - Wanna come over now?
Me - What's the occasion?
Him - So I can bend you over my kitchen counter!
Him - My boyfriend, his lover, and I will be getting drunk off our asses in meu apartamento.
Me - Wow, that's so festive!
Him - A relatively new love interest of mine will be joining us later at night, too, for... you know.
Me - Sorry, but I can't.
Him - The night will be lots of fun. The "new guy" is a "gift" to myself... like all my lovers are.
Me - I'm traveling until tomorrow. Have fun without me.
And then, the train carried me off (backwards) to Long Island. I didn't want to spend Christmastime alone again. As you can see, an opportunity came to spend it with "lots of boys" (seen below)... but only after I left the city. Thanks Universe.
Early in the new year, he moved to another city.
Many of the guys from TONY remained as "Facebook friends" with me. When time allowed and money began staying in my bank account, I did finally have some riotous fun times with them. Yet, in my heart, I still desired a relationship. It finally came.
From a gay website, I began steadily dating Mark, an Associate Theatre Professor at the prestigious New York University (that's him).
It would've been fun to join party-revelers for that October's Halloween Parade in the city.
Sigh... instead, Life had me dealing with:
At Christmas, guys were busy with pricey plans. I texted people and went online to meet new people, but nobody seemed interested in just "chilling" at their apartments. Instead, my older Long Island friend suddenly invited me to share festivities at his home, to offset the presence of his depressed 40-year-old son (and stay overnight, for convenience).
After buying my LIRR ticket and boarding the train to my friend's place, I suddenly got texts from a 25-yr-old Jew named Ari whom I met online. (That's him below. He described himself as "into polyamory, and never heteronormative").
Him - Wanna come over now?
Me - What's the occasion?
Him - So I can bend you over my kitchen counter!
Him - My boyfriend, his lover, and I will be getting drunk off our asses in meu apartamento.
Me - Wow, that's so festive!
Him - A relatively new love interest of mine will be joining us later at night, too, for... you know.
Me - Sorry, but I can't.
Him - The night will be lots of fun. The "new guy" is a "gift" to myself... like all my lovers are.
Me - I'm traveling until tomorrow. Have fun without me.
Early in the new year, he moved to another city.
Many of the guys from TONY remained as "Facebook friends" with me. When time allowed and money began staying in my bank account, I did finally have some riotous fun times with them. Yet, in my heart, I still desired a relationship. It finally came.
From a gay website, I began steadily dating Mark, an Associate Theatre Professor at the prestigious New York University (that's him).
He lived in Astoria, Queens. Some people "get a crush" on a college professor; I certainly did! Our first date began at TONY Lounge, and I suddenly encountered the gay-curious guy from my job (who toyed with me but never committed). He and his girlfriend were attending a show in the theatre and came to the bar for drinks during intermission. He wanted to have a private conversation with me... perhaps to tempt me again. As a vindictive prank, I told him to "wait there", and I exited the building with Mark. I never saw him again. I felt great for rejecting him. Mark was thrilled.
Our relationship lasted four months, and he was the first man to let me spend alternate nights at his
place. When spending time at his place, I arrived straight from work (to save time). I took the dirty/slow LIRR to Woodside, then changed to the subway's filthy/slow 7-train to Astoria, then transferred to the subway's N or Q trains into Astoria. He did the same for me, taking the subways and LIRR train to Bayside. Mark was okay with Ron occasionally being around and chatting with us "the mornings after" at my breakfast table. Unfortunately, Mark suffered
from a temporary esophagus illness, which made it challenging to swallow food. It also made it
impossible for him to reciprocate oral sex, and he was not interested in "energetic" intercourse, as both could trigger “coughing” spells. However, his tongue worked wonders, and his erection was a long generous size, so going slow had elongated sensations for me. When I topped him, he wanted intercrural (non-penetrative) sex, to avoid triggering a coughing attack. He also loved fragrant massage oils.
Eventually, Mark showed me his blog, and I got to see the entries that he'd made when we first met. Here they are:
I gave his hectic days a "happy ending", when I showed up waiting
outside his place with a bottle of wine, so I could greet his smiling face with
a welcoming kiss and dinner. Mark savored the attention (and the happy endings from my talented hands). When he had a choking attack, I held him, consoled him, and settled for a
simple evening of holding hands, side-by-side, watching his favorite TV episodes of "Lost". In exchange, he made me feel less stressed about my life (subconsciously, I got into the habit of grinding my teeth when I slept). When my legal battle suffered another unnecessary delay, Mark comforted me with a steamy bath... and steamy fervor.
Here's a love note from him (so sweet, so promising): "I still remember when we first met. Time Out New York Lounge, one of many meeting places of the urban jungle. For weeks beforehand, we talked on the phone and sent emails. It was a wonderful night—a perfect first date. We hadn’t planned it, and it turned out beautifully. I can still remember how excited you were coming back to my place, and your smiles were beyond words to describe. It was great holding hands on the train and cuddling so close. I hardly felt the cold. From a simple meet and casual going out together, it bloomed like Spring. Yet, I was afraid and didn’t want to set my expectations falsely. Each day that you were with me was bliss, and I couldn't help but ask for more. Those moments were golden... a 'cloud 9' experience. Despite your busy schedule, you made impossible things happen for us to be together. We are so optimistic and willing to work things out, not making empty promises but, rather, keeping each other in mind and succeeding in spending each others’ time together doing things that we love. I can't picture myself living a life without you, being independently on my own. Our relationship has evolved into a commitment."
Eventually, Mark showed me his blog, and I got to see the entries that he'd made when we first met. Here they are:
“Another first date. This is just exhausting.”
“I think there'll be a second date! :-) ”
“Someone thinks very highly of themselves!”
“Sore but happy. 'Wore me out' is an understatement :-) ”
“It's hard not to get depressed. It's hard not to feel beaten down, and repeatedly. It's hard not to feel corrupted, and ashamed, and lame. You don't actively think the phrase 'damaged goods', but it lives around there somewhere. Not having to explain your awkwardness to everyone, once you pass a certain point of intimacy. It's all hard. But I'm trying. Ken is amazing.”
“Someone thinks very highly of themselves!”
“Sore but happy. 'Wore me out' is an understatement :-) ”
“It's hard not to get depressed. It's hard not to feel beaten down, and repeatedly. It's hard not to feel corrupted, and ashamed, and lame. You don't actively think the phrase 'damaged goods', but it lives around there somewhere. Not having to explain your awkwardness to everyone, once you pass a certain point of intimacy. It's all hard. But I'm trying. Ken is amazing.”
“Last night: Ken, chicken soup, Easter candy.”
“Last night: Ken, wine, chocolate, bubble bath, strawberries, jazz, and [censored].”
It made me swoon.
As a trained dancer, Mark was in shape; his athletic ability and his style of "build up" kept us happily busy… more than once a day! He "rose" energetically in the mornings, too. 
Here's a love note from him (so sweet, so promising): "I still remember when we first met. Time Out New York Lounge, one of many meeting places of the urban jungle. For weeks beforehand, we talked on the phone and sent emails. It was a wonderful night—a perfect first date. We hadn’t planned it, and it turned out beautifully. I can still remember how excited you were coming back to my place, and your smiles were beyond words to describe. It was great holding hands on the train and cuddling so close. I hardly felt the cold. From a simple meet and casual going out together, it bloomed like Spring. Yet, I was afraid and didn’t want to set my expectations falsely. Each day that you were with me was bliss, and I couldn't help but ask for more. Those moments were golden... a 'cloud 9' experience. Despite your busy schedule, you made impossible things happen for us to be together. We are so optimistic and willing to work things out, not making empty promises but, rather, keeping each other in mind and succeeding in spending each others’ time together doing things that we love. I can't picture myself living a life without you, being independently on my own. Our relationship has evolved into a commitment."
Those were lies.
In the end, Mark chose to teach summer classes at Vassar College in Duchess County. Simultaneously, he chose to end our relationship.
In the end, Mark chose to teach summer classes at Vassar College in Duchess County. Simultaneously, he chose to end our relationship.
He didn't want a boyfriend while he was at Vassar. Mark broke up with me over the telephone, after a night with his friends at a beer garden in The Bowery. He thanked me for supporting him, helping him when he was
ill, and our fun times. But he also wanted a lover who didn't believe in monogamy and enjoyed occasional threesomes—something he had never mentioned until that moment! He assumed that I wouldn't like it.
My answers didn't matter. He ignored me and left me. I was devastated. Perhaps I had been his “port in a storm”—someone who respected him while he was sick, gave him high-shooting orgasms when he couldn’t have intercourse, and made romantic dates. I visualized Mark standing in my living room, wearing my open bathrobe, gleefully slurping my wine while my mouth worked on his nether regions—which he couldn’t do for me. That was my thanks. I did many things right and I did nothing wrong, yet I was "dumped".
[Mark bumped into me, a year later, seeming very lonely. Remembering how great I was, he wanted to have sex with me. I was flattered that another ex saw me and immediately wanted to reconnect. But he didn't do anything to mend my hurt feelings, so I let him pass. A month later, he saw me and invited me for coffee. He asked if I would like an oil massage from him. Thinking it was Fate to see Mark, I accepted. The first massage was platonic; the second got our groins together and gave us ejaculatory smiles. Then, he announced that he was dating a guy... and wanted me as his "sidepiece". I refused, so he suggested that we be "bate mates" (a.k.a. jack off buddies); he rationalized that many guys masturbate together. I wasn't interested in that with him, more-so since it could only happen when his guy was not around. Two years later, Mark encountered me again. He lived with a boyfriend—who paid their rent—in an "open relationship". He still wasn't happy. Mark told me how much he missed me. (Regret is such an unfortunate emotion). He wanted to have sex with me like we used to, but I explained I was exclusively involved with someone.
My answers didn't matter. He ignored me and left me. I was devastated. Perhaps I had been his “port in a storm”—someone who respected him while he was sick, gave him high-shooting orgasms when he couldn’t have intercourse, and made romantic dates. I visualized Mark standing in my living room, wearing my open bathrobe, gleefully slurping my wine while my mouth worked on his nether regions—which he couldn’t do for me. That was my thanks. I did many things right and I did nothing wrong, yet I was "dumped".
[Mark bumped into me, a year later, seeming very lonely. Remembering how great I was, he wanted to have sex with me. I was flattered that another ex saw me and immediately wanted to reconnect. But he didn't do anything to mend my hurt feelings, so I let him pass. A month later, he saw me and invited me for coffee. He asked if I would like an oil massage from him. Thinking it was Fate to see Mark, I accepted. The first massage was platonic; the second got our groins together and gave us ejaculatory smiles. Then, he announced that he was dating a guy... and wanted me as his "sidepiece". I refused, so he suggested that we be "bate mates" (a.k.a. jack off buddies); he rationalized that many guys masturbate together. I wasn't interested in that with him, more-so since it could only happen when his guy was not around. Two years later, Mark encountered me again. He lived with a boyfriend—who paid their rent—in an "open relationship". He still wasn't happy. Mark told me how much he missed me. (Regret is such an unfortunate emotion). He wanted to have sex with me like we used to, but I explained I was exclusively involved with someone.
While on the first rebound from Mark, there was a Texan off-Broadway musical-theatre actor named Chance. (I'm not sure if that was his real name or if he took it from the Bel Ami porn actor). We met online and he "chatted up a storm", to pass idle time while he was in Texas
with his boring relatives.
He (above) came
back to the city. We had a date at TONY Lounge, shared flirty chemistry, and began passionately kissing—which moved to all parts of the building. He took me
back to his Upper-Upper West Side place for a one-nigther, and then he never replied again. I was only another "notch in his bedpost".
I connected with a muscular, frisky Residence Assistant at New York University. He was tall, black, and "hung". He was enamored with me and eagerly rendezvoused at my place for nighttime "banging". It was a huge compliment (and turn-on) that he preferred to travel 45-minutes to be with me--instead of all the college boys closer to him on the NYU campus.
Repeatedly, he told me how much he loved my ass. He wanted to feel sensations of penetrating me from all angles; we used pillows and rolled blankets and every contorted position. Alternately, he rimmed, fingered, and f*cked me for hours. I also realized that during my college years, I had an infatuation with my gay RA... who ignored me. Now, I had plenty of lengthy sex--in varied positions--with a university RA. It gave me closure to that desire. Our amazing sex was timed nicely with Ron's desire to drink heavily at a NYC gay bar named Flaming Saddles. When Ron lacked cash and stayed home, the RA hosted me at his dorm room: on his bed, sofa, against the wall, standing in the middle of the room, while showering, and with me kneeling on an armchair. Alas, he began a relationship with a young man from the Ukraine, and he decided to be exclusive with him. He said that wherever he travelled, he would always remember me. It was true: months later, he saw me on the street, texted me, told me that he was single, invited me to his place, screwed me, and orgasmed in me with a sigh of our great memories/sensations. It was flattering. Then, he began dating another boy.
His kissing was great... even with his facial scruff...
We seemed to click. One day, while I socialized with him at his store, Gerry (the gay-curious but Catholic-guilt-ridden waiter from my former job) entered! Gerry wanted to reconnect with me. Uninterested, I indicated that I was dating someone (and the experience of finally saying "No" to guys like him gave me closure). I never saw him again. Happily, I remained focused on Rodolfo. But, in the end, Rodolfo's ex-boyfriend came back into his life, and I was asked to leave it.
We seemed to click. One day, while I socialized with him at his store, Gerry (the gay-curious but Catholic-guilt-ridden waiter from my former job) entered! Gerry wanted to reconnect with me. Uninterested, I indicated that I was dating someone (and the experience of finally saying "No" to guys like him gave me closure). I never saw him again. Happily, I remained focused on Rodolfo. But, in the end, Rodolfo's ex-boyfriend came back into his life, and I was asked to leave it.
LIFE LESSONS:
1). Performers (and struggling actors) tend to “play a role” in each of their dating situations, until they “bed you”, or you stop paying for dinner. They might look pretty—with calculated movements, phrasing, and facial expressions—but actors don’t know how to be “real”. They act in whatever way seems to help them to achieve their goal: to be embraced, to have arm-candy for an event, sex, someone to complain to, more sex. They want somebody to “hold them” before stressful casting calls and to cheer them after rehearsals. Many don’t know how to “be themselves”.
2.) For many guys who are new to the city, their general attitude is "I'd really like to be with you, but my life is really messed up right now (or in transition), so I'll just assume things will go badly between us, and I won't have any interest past the physical". Sex partners and "not too close" friendships are what they want. e.g.: a ballet dancer and I had dinner at Vinyl in Hell's Kitchen. He said that after his constant "touring", he returns to NYC and scrambles to find a sublet and a temp job, until he signs his next dance contract. In fact, he was the third dancer I knew who entered the professional world of online porn and event promotion… for the sturdier paychecks. THAT fame opened more doors for them in NYC than ballet.
3.) A relationship can be strained by the regular temptation of other cute guys all around you: nightclubs like XL, "private warehouse parties", hotel parties, Hamptons sex parties, pool parties at SoHo House, and hookups via Grindr or Scruff. Sex equals "networking" for many men—helping them stay popular, being taken care of, and tasting different "flavors" in our big world.
4.) The suited “business/political admins” work 70 hours a week, hitting the gym to relieve stress and achieve a body that gets them laid—with minimal wasted time. They don’t want the intricacies of a dating life because it interferes with their career aspirations, so they prefer dinner/gym/sex buddies. They intend to "buy" romance, after they make successful careers. If they are closeted at work, they don’t intend to touch you in public (outside of the gay bar where they met you). Fire Island or bondage clubs are the kind of places where they "let loose".
I also learned about meeting guys "during the Holiday Season". Beware, because some family-dejected gay guys will only "use you" and then it's "over"—just like a chummy conversation with a plane passenger until the flight is over. With a plane passenger, you kind of expect it, though!
1). Performers (and struggling actors) tend to “play a role” in each of their dating situations, until they “bed you”, or you stop paying for dinner. They might look pretty—with calculated movements, phrasing, and facial expressions—but actors don’t know how to be “real”. They act in whatever way seems to help them to achieve their goal: to be embraced, to have arm-candy for an event, sex, someone to complain to, more sex. They want somebody to “hold them” before stressful casting calls and to cheer them after rehearsals. Many don’t know how to “be themselves”.
2.) For many guys who are new to the city, their general attitude is "I'd really like to be with you, but my life is really messed up right now (or in transition), so I'll just assume things will go badly between us, and I won't have any interest past the physical". Sex partners and "not too close" friendships are what they want. e.g.: a ballet dancer and I had dinner at Vinyl in Hell's Kitchen. He said that after his constant "touring", he returns to NYC and scrambles to find a sublet and a temp job, until he signs his next dance contract. In fact, he was the third dancer I knew who entered the professional world of online porn and event promotion… for the sturdier paychecks. THAT fame opened more doors for them in NYC than ballet.
3.) A relationship can be strained by the regular temptation of other cute guys all around you: nightclubs like XL, "private warehouse parties", hotel parties, Hamptons sex parties, pool parties at SoHo House, and hookups via Grindr or Scruff. Sex equals "networking" for many men—helping them stay popular, being taken care of, and tasting different "flavors" in our big world.
4.) The suited “business/political admins” work 70 hours a week, hitting the gym to relieve stress and achieve a body that gets them laid—with minimal wasted time. They don’t want the intricacies of a dating life because it interferes with their career aspirations, so they prefer dinner/gym/sex buddies. They intend to "buy" romance, after they make successful careers. If they are closeted at work, they don’t intend to touch you in public (outside of the gay bar where they met you). Fire Island or bondage clubs are the kind of places where they "let loose".
I also learned about meeting guys "during the Holiday Season". Beware, because some family-dejected gay guys will only "use you" and then it's "over"—just like a chummy conversation with a plane passenger until the flight is over. With a plane passenger, you kind of expect it, though!
During that time, the sad part about meeting closeted guys was that they were disconnected from most other gay men. I hoped for exponential connections (like the Seven Degrees of Separation), and making more friends. But making contact with closeted guys was like reaching a buoy in the ocean... there was no connection to anybody else.
Next, I met a Caucasian fashionista who took me to Marie’s Crisis piano bar.
He sang (oh those lips), wooed me, and "showed me" around. The piano player warned me that he was only trying to make another guy jealous. Quite drunk, he lured
me home. The next
morning, he chatted with me in his kitchen, making it clear that it had been a "one-night thing". Returning home from the corner bagel shop, his roommate overheard and gave me a
muffin as a consolation prize. (Oh, you mean I'm nothing more than a sexual object that you never want to see again?)
Anytime something turned out to be disappointing, I considered myself lucky... either because I "dodged a bullet", or because that opportunity needed to pass so that I could be with someone better. Perhaps naively, I continued meeting new people, trying to understand them as people, respecting, genuinely caring, and "giving it a go".
The heartbreak of that season was meeting Matthew from Utah...
We had amazing conversations and "hit it off" extremely well. He was shy with a Midwest upbringing. He wore a "popular" gay haircut: a buzz cut on the sides and a combed-over part on top. We savored the same "food likes". Waitresses thought we were so cute together. One asked, "Have you been a couple for long?" Matt played footsie with me under the tables and wasn't afraid to hold hands across the tables. He took me to a go-go bar, where we captured the Speedo-wearing bartender's attention, and he invited us to follow him to his next gig.
Matt and I loved the same kinds of music, films, and books. He got tickets and invited me to the NY Philharmonic. He was an amazing kisser! Our Goodbye kisses could last for 20 minutes. He was great at replying to my texts. (Unlike other guys who texted: "I feel as if I'm being totally inflexible, but I hope you understand" or "I really wanna meet you again, but my friends keep asking me to hang out with them").
One day, I texted him. I received the following text message, "So, I feel like a huge jerk but there's something I should let you know. I belong to the Mormon religion, which forbids homosexuality, and I'm actually moving back to Utah this coming Monday. I really should have been upfront about it, but I figured this was just a fun thing which has very unexpectedly turned into something much better. I feel terrible. You're someone that I really wish I could've gotten to know even more. I feel like shit as though I've led you on. I'm so sorry and have no excuses. But I hope you know that I think you're a wonderfully charming person that I really truly regret that I won't know better. I really had a wonderful time with you, getting to see the city through your eyes, even if just for a moment."
Arrrggghhh! I was worn-down and devastated by a series of guys who praised me but dumped me so coldly.
Anytime something turned out to be disappointing, I considered myself lucky... either because I "dodged a bullet", or because that opportunity needed to pass so that I could be with someone better. Perhaps naively, I continued meeting new people, trying to understand them as people, respecting, genuinely caring, and "giving it a go".
The heartbreak of that season was meeting Matthew from Utah...
We had amazing conversations and "hit it off" extremely well. He was shy with a Midwest upbringing. He wore a "popular" gay haircut: a buzz cut on the sides and a combed-over part on top. We savored the same "food likes". Waitresses thought we were so cute together. One asked, "Have you been a couple for long?" Matt played footsie with me under the tables and wasn't afraid to hold hands across the tables. He took me to a go-go bar, where we captured the Speedo-wearing bartender's attention, and he invited us to follow him to his next gig.
Matt and I loved the same kinds of music, films, and books. He got tickets and invited me to the NY Philharmonic. He was an amazing kisser! Our Goodbye kisses could last for 20 minutes. He was great at replying to my texts. (Unlike other guys who texted: "I feel as if I'm being totally inflexible, but I hope you understand" or "I really wanna meet you again, but my friends keep asking me to hang out with them").
One day, I texted him. I received the following text message, "So, I feel like a huge jerk but there's something I should let you know. I belong to the Mormon religion, which forbids homosexuality, and I'm actually moving back to Utah this coming Monday. I really should have been upfront about it, but I figured this was just a fun thing which has very unexpectedly turned into something much better. I feel terrible. You're someone that I really wish I could've gotten to know even more. I feel like shit as though I've led you on. I'm so sorry and have no excuses. But I hope you know that I think you're a wonderfully charming person that I really truly regret that I won't know better. I really had a wonderful time with you, getting to see the city through your eyes, even if just for a moment."
Arrrggghhh! I was worn-down and devastated by a series of guys who praised me but dumped me so coldly.
Online, I soon met a slim, dark-skinned Public Relations specialist, who worked from home. He recently relocated from Florida to work in "the big city".
Enthralled with me, he cuddled up to me during our afterglow. The next time, we went straight to his bedroom, since he was eager to squeeze himself inside me again. For our second orgasm of that afternoon, my oral skills literally brought tears to his eyes. (When I yawned that night, my jaw was sore). The next time I arrived, he was so enthusiastic that we did it right on his sofa (with his shirt still on). His curvaceous butt was cute, as he walked around, cleaning up our clothes, wrappers, and gooey paper towels. The next week, my text to him got this reply (and it should be of NO surprise to you by now), "Hey Ken, I just started seeing this guy, and we've decided to be exclusive. Sorry! I've really had a great time with you. This all happened yesterday, and I've deleted my online account. But I'll keep your phone number. I hope you find a nice guy, too. You deserve it. You're really sweet and a sure catch."
Um, thanks?
A friend gave me advice, which was useless at the time:
One month later, I recognized the PR guy on the street and waved, but he kept walking. That afternoon, I got a text from him, saying that he was glad to see me earlier. His boyfriend had recently broken up with him. Remembering how much fun we had, he told me that he was ready for sex, if I was interested. Our sweaty sessions stopped when he reunited with his ex-boyfriend.
I was so upset! Bad things lingered and good ones evaporated. It was hard not to feel as if the Universe was laughing at me. It was hard not to dwell on the psychological trauma that such pointless, relentless circumstances inflicted, day after day. It was hard to imagine being carefree again, or what it was like.
Um, thanks?
A friend gave me advice, which was useless at the time:
One month later, I recognized the PR guy on the street and waved, but he kept walking. That afternoon, I got a text from him, saying that he was glad to see me earlier. His boyfriend had recently broken up with him. Remembering how much fun we had, he told me that he was ready for sex, if I was interested. Our sweaty sessions stopped when he reunited with his ex-boyfriend.
I was so upset! Bad things lingered and good ones evaporated. It was hard not to feel as if the Universe was laughing at me. It was hard not to dwell on the psychological trauma that such pointless, relentless circumstances inflicted, day after day. It was hard to imagine being carefree again, or what it was like.
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