The Best of 2007: I got laid! NO REALLY!!

After a few weeks of licking my wounds from the break up and drowning my sorrows in tubs upon tubs of ice cream I began to feel ‘anxious’ (if you know what I mean ‘wink’.) So I did what any self-respecting gay man would do who was looking for a ‘good time’ and need a little self-esteem boost. I renewed my account and updated my profile on Gay.com.

I tried going out to the local watering holes to pick up a ‘friend’ for some ‘stimulating conversation”, but there are couple obstacles when doing this. One, they can actually see you, ALL of you. You are no longer a two dimensional being shot from your best side with a little Photoshop thrown in for good measure. You’re a middle-aged guy with thinning hair, a slight belly and wearing clothes that are a little too young for you. And two, you are surrounded by other men (boys, really) who are SOOOO much better looking than you. Plus I was on a timetable; I had a limited amount of weekends to try and squeeze this particular ‘activity’ in. So I logged on and away we went.

Now before I start my little tirade I want to point out the names have been changed protect the identities of all involved. All of them were very nice people and in no way is this essay meant to hurt them. It’s meant show what a jackass I am. On with the rant…

The first willing participant in this string of nightmarish hook-ups was a guy who was in town to attend a wedding. Chatting with him online and for a brief period on the phone he seemed a nice enough guy. Plus, he was only in visiting for the long weekend and by Tuesday he’d be gone. One night we ended up talking on the phone and he finally convinced me to meet him at his hotel room. Now if I were in the CORRECT frame of mind I wouldn’t have done this. But I wasn’t and ‘Willie’ had hopped into the driver’s seat, so we went at 1am to meet stranger to have sex. Not a shining moment and certainly not the last.

When I reached the hotel I called him on his cell to let him know I arrived. He told me to meet him in the back of the building. He didn’t want me coming through the lobby in fear that one of his family members might see him sneaking a guy into his room. So like a five-dollar hooker I waited for him by the door of the backstairs. Now I did have a pre-determined picture in my head of what he would look like based on the picture in his profile. Rule number one when it comes to meeting someone online…NEVER TRUST THE PICTURE IN THE PROFILE! It could be a year or two old. It could have been one that came with his wallet. You never know! Because when he came of the door, it was the svelte Italian with chiseled features I saw online. It was a short, round hobbit. Regardless of his looks (which should have knocked some sense into me onsite) I followed him up 4 flights of stairs to his room. Once we arrived and sat down on the couch common sense came back to me and smacked me around a bit. I tried to be as nice possible when I told him I wasn’t expecting a pudgy little gnome to meet me at the back door. Needless to say, I was as polite as possible short of leaping out the 4th story window to get back to my car as quickly as I could. Driving home, I swore something like this was never going to happen again. Little did I know it would happen 4 more times before that statement finally sunk in.

The next was a twenty-six year old young man whom I also met in the chat room. He was cute enough (this time the picture actually matched the person) and he could talk a good game….online. But in real life he had all the personality of a life long member of the ‘Star Trek: Star Fleet Command’ fan club. I could see him and the other ‘cadets’ sitting around on a Saturday night discussing the whys and wherefores of warp theory. But at that time I wasn’t looking for personality, just a warm body with working equipment. But at the first sign of Vulcan ears I was calling it off.

Being twenty-six of course he had roommates and I was still living with the x-BF. So we agreed one night to meet at his place after his roommates went to bed. He was more than willing to ‘conduct business’ in the car. But I felt ridiculous enough sneaking out of the house while the x-BF slept to meet someone to ‘get it on.’ Let alone risking having a police light shown in my face while someone is ‘driving the stick.’ So at twelve-thirty in the AM (notice how these things take place late at night) I hopped in the car and drove over to his place. Once I got there I felt like I was fifteen again and not in a good way. I met him outside, he was dressed in a tank top and pajama bottoms with, I swear, some sort of animal on them. Oooo…SEXY! We made our way upstairs to his room; it was donned with Star War posters and roll playing artifacts. He insisted on having the lights off, he got no argument from me. We kissed, we came and I left. Being an online encounter, I thought that was the end of it. I thought that’s the way the game was played. Apparently not, we hooked up for one last time a few weeks later. This final ‘meeting’ was the memory that stuck with me.

Again it was about 1am, I was feeling ‘anxious’ and I had the house to myself. Just by chance, ‘Vulcan’ boy was online. After a few minutes of hot and heavy bantering I invited him over. I went outside to meet him so he didn’t get lost. As I came out of the house I noticed my neighbor on her porch. She had been out of town for a while and just got in.

Quick side story- while my neighbor was out of town our landlords were going re-sealing the driveways. She gave them the keys to her car so they could move it when they wanted to lay down the black top. Well, they did move it but didn’t tell her where it was. So she had been wandering around the neighborhood looking for her car since she got in. Which is why she was on her porch at one in the morning. (Weird things like this happened all the time when we lived in the townhouses and she did eventually find her car.)

Needless, to say she was curious why I was on the front porch in my pajama pants (sans the little animals) and a t-shirt at one in the morning. Just as I was trying to formulate a relatively believable reply, the answer came walking up to us in a tank top, slippers and again ‘jammie’ pants with something questionable on them. What could I do? I introduced ‘Geek Lad’ to my neighbor and quickly shuffled him inside. After a few minutes of stumbling conversation, we ‘went to work’. Just as we were getting close to ‘sealing the deal’, the house phone rings. My concentration being broken at that point, I tried to listen to the message from upstairs. It was my neighbor; I thought she was calling to tell me she found her car. Once we were finished with ‘insert slang here’ and I shooed the ‘Dungeon Master’ out, I listened to the message she had left. Come to find out later, while I was shuffling ‘fan boy’ into the house, the cat had got out. Now knowing he was an indoor cat (for the most part) she was afraid something might happen to him while he was outside. In a panic, I quickly ran outside to look for the cat. But he had didn’t go very far, he may have been curious but he knows where he gets fed and didn’t wander off very far. I picked up the cat, said ‘Good Night’ to my neighbor (who happened to be still awake) and went inside. Once inside, I swore I would never do anything like that again. Until the next time or two or three or four.

My next sex-capade came when I had moved into my new place and out of my old life I had known for seven years. Feeling lonely and down I hopped online to see who was around (you think I would learn, huh?) An hour goes by of no hits, no pings, no IM’s (depressing, isn’t it?) and I was just about ready to log off when a window pops open. The message in the window was simply, “Hi. Horny?” I wasn’t sure how to respond to that. So I said, “Sort of. Why?” Clever. He turned out to be a deaf student from the local university and he was ‘lookin’ for love in all the WRONG places.’ So why not mine? I invited him over. When he showed up, he wasn’t exactly what I expected but he was there and I was weak. Now at one time I knew sign language but that was quite a while ago and I barely remember any of it. So how did we communicate, you say? Notes, written notes, notes that ended with the closing statement, “ Do you want to go?’ So we went. The whole experience was short, in and out (excuse the pun) in a half an hour. But that encounter is one I won’t soon forget. In the heat of passion, the noises that emanated from this young man reminded of scenes from ‘Wild Kingdom’ involving a wounded water buffalo. You know it’s bad sign when the cat goes running from the room covering his ears. There was not a repeat performance.

The next meeting was even shorter (as to never have happened.) We chatted. He invited me over. I got lost on the way. I showed up too late. He turned me away. I stopped by a bar, had a drink. Got home. Went to bed. I was hoping to wake up the next morning to find the whole thing was one big ‘Dallas’ dream sequence. Not a chance!

The next sleep over ‘friend’ was the best in the bunch. He was drag queen. * Here is where I pause for the muffled giggles and titters from the ‘children’ in the reading audience. YES! A DRAG QUEEN! And NO… he wasn’t wearing a dress at the time! Say what you like but he was sweet and witty and cute and he smelled SOOO good! He was A-dorable! On that cold winter’s night he showed up on my doorstep like a trendy little Eskimo right out of an Express catalog. He had beautiful brown skin and long jet black, as soon as he walked in owned the place. He began opening in doors, examining books on bookshelves, and peaking at pictures. I swear if I didn’t know any better I would have thought he was mentally taking measurements for drapes. After a bit of chitchat, we were off to bed. Out of respect for the ‘lady’, I’ll keep the passionate details to myself. But needless to say, I was quite taken with him. And when I’m rocking on the porch of the old queer home trying not to drool on clearance rack Prada robe, he will be the memory I’m smiling about while I watch the male nurse bend over to pick up bed pans.

Well, I saved the worst for last. To be completely honest I don’t remember much about the last guy. There were a couple of things I can recall from my experience in ‘NEVER-NEVER AGAIN’ land, one being a hazy recollection of the ordeal (phantom memory if you will.) The only way to accurately describe this feeling is that of a solider returning from war. I’ve blocked out most of the memories from that night but I know I don’t want to go back! Also, I’ve seen better dental work on thoroughbred.

I can’t say that I have gone completely cold turkey with the whole chat room thing. I still log on and I still chat with single (or semi-single) guys in and around the area. I have to admit I met one of my best friends through Gay.com and five years later we are still friends to this day. But I don’t go on with the specific reason to find sex anymore. After all, that’s what bars are for.

NEXT UP: HIV