I may be a stereotypical cynical New Yorker, but I think the people in LA are a little too nice. Even the crazy homeless people looked like they lived off of organic kale smoothies and pure sunshine. It freaked me out. Wait, let me back up a bit…
When I started my blog, one of the first things I wrote about was how there are very few depictions of people living with HIV from this century on TV or film. Things are changing, like the Eddie on Looking, but mainly if we see anyone on TV or in the movies with HIV it is someone with AIDS from the 80s who is covered in lesions and probably dying of some bizarre bird flu. Don’t get me wrong, these stories are our history and there should be a place for them, but there also needs to be a place, in contemporary media, for our current stories. The stories of the normal everyday guy, trying to live and love, who just happens to be HIV-positive. Continue Reading…
I have been living my life even more like a hermit since becoming a single dad of the sweetest pitbull pup. I finally had a real excuse not to go out – “Oh I’m sorry I have to go home and walk the dog.” I would stay at home alone with my trusty pup and all was right with the world. Well…all was right except for my love life.
Roughly two months ago, when we had our first glimmer of nice weather and, before we got another load of snow dumped on us, I caught a bit pf spring fever. I made the decision to not say no. I was going to accept any and all invitations and re-join the normal human race. No matter how much I want to stay home and cuddle with Mr. Bingley (my pitt).
Soon after I made this declaration, one of my favorite people at my crossfit gym invited all the gay boys there (which is a lot) to go to this dance club for his birthday. It was called Brüt. Take whatever imagery you have in your mind that the name evokes, and you pretty much have the essence of the party. Now this was typically not my scene, but I jumped at the chance and had an amazing time. There were half naked sweaty boys dancing all around me, how couldn’t I have an amazing time? I was even cajoled to take of my shirt, which I promptly put back on in 30 minutes, but I was still proud none the less! (Continue reading…)
I know I blame my HIV status on my subpar dating life. But in reality there are much bigger factors at play that have nothing to do with being positive and everything to do with me being socially awkward.
It all comes down to one simple fact. I don’t know how to talk to guys I am attracted to. Stupid, I know. There are two things I expected to get better with age – my complexion (which has it’s good days and bad) and social competency or the act of talking to men. I am two years shy of forty and I find myself living in a perpetual junior high school hell. Continue Reading…
Recently my world shifted from the mid-thirties to the late thirties. I’ve never really cared about it because age is just a number, right? I mean, I’m in the best shape of my life and look better than people much, much younger. My age never crossed my mind until a random twink who wasn’t even old enough to witness the most important sporting event of my youth – the Tanya Harding, Nancy Kerrigan kerfuffle! – called me a ”Daddy”.
A Daddy? Really? When I think of a “Daddy”, I think of this incredibly sexy older man, with rippling muscles and a nice furry chest – who may or may not be wearing leather chaps and a harness. Ok, maybe I have a hairy chest and I am two years away from the big 4-0, but I am no “Daddy.” Well, that is not quite the truth anymore…..Continue Reading
I was named one of the top 10 dating advice blogs! Which I find mildly funny, mostly because I don’t give advice, I just rant about my rather pathetic dating adventures. Nevertheless, I am still very happy for the acknowledgment .
I have written before about expectations as applied to the lead up to the first sexual encounter with a new date. But in this world of technological dating, we are often left with an entirely new brand of expectations – the first face-to-face meeting. These virtual expectations, whether good or bad, can actually keep us from enjoying things as they truly are.
In my previous entry I wrote about fate and how it was taking me to Brighton, England for Gay Pride and more importantly, to meet a boy that I had been talking to every day for the past three months. Yes, three months! Talking to includes: texting, sending videos back and fourth and Skyping. I would like to put on the record that while there were some flirtatious messages, there was nothing that I would be too embarrassed to show my momma. This was a first for me!
So by the time I hopped on that Virgin Atlantic flight across the pond, I thought I knew every detail of his being. I knew the meanings in his different laughs. I knew his little side smirks. I saw the sadness in his eyes when he was telling me about his father’s open-heart surgery. “I know him so well” I told myself. I did not allow myself to account for the flesh. No, you dirty birds; I’m not talking about sex, yet. I’m talking about him as a real three dimensional human being. Continue Reading…
Fate is a tricky beast. When deciding whether to believe in fate, we tend to think about the good things that have happened. But to earnestly believe in fate, one must also think of all of the tragic things that have occurred. Was it fated that millions of Africans were going to be ripped from their homes and enslaved; was it fated that 9/11 would happen thus causing global panic; and was it fated that millions of Jews were to be murdered during the Holocaust? This is a major reason why I’m conflicted with the power of fate. This is the story of my most interesting bout with fate.
About a month and a half ago I downloaded Tinder in the hopes of getting myself out there and dating more. For those of you who don’t know, Tinder is another location-originated app for your phone, much like Grindr. But unlike Grindr, Tinder is geared more towards actual dating, not the obligatory Grindr “date.”
I know it is just an app, but it is hard dating in NYC and we need all the help we can get!
The morning after I downloaded the app, I started chatting with this cute boy with blonde curly hair and bright blue eyes. Yes, I realize I have a type. I asked him how morning was and he replied “Morning? Where are you?” It turns out the location feature on my Tinder was a bit out of whack and had put me in touch with a guy who lives in England. We didn’t let the Atlantic Ocean stop us and we continued to chat. Continue Reading….