A Caveat: I am giving up trying to separate the aspect of sex out of my blog entries. I have been finding it ridiculously hard to extract the sexual details from a blog about being HIV positive and dating. I have stretched my innuendos to the breaking point. So no more! As you will read this entry may have may have taken my blog rating from P-13 to R.
For some reason I have been having a redhead fetish as of late. Maybe it stems from being obsessed with Anne of Green Gables as a kid, I don’t know. A couple of weeks ago I spotted this redheaded boy at the gym. Very cute and very stylish. Maybe I could be his Gilbert Blythe.
Later on that day I was chatting with this faceless torso on Grindr and after I sent him my picture he responds “Didn’t I just see you at my gym?” He sent his picture and lo and behold it was the ginger from the gym. We chatted for some time and had great conversations. Over the next week or so, we would see each other at the gym, smile and chat. We decided to take our relationship from the gym to out having drinks. In our Grindr conversations I had already mentioned my HIV status and he seemed ok with it, even though he did mention, three times, that he was negative and only has safe sex. I tried to reassure him that if we progress that far, that I only have safe sex so there is nothing to worry about. Our conversation over drinks was sweet, fun, flirty and boy he was cute. Not only that, he had an amazing job. He writes incidental music for a very VERY popular TV show. I was instantly intrigued. That automatically earned him a second date and progressed him to stage 2: the dinner date.
After an almost perfect second date, he wanted to walk me home. We aren’t in the 1950s, we all know what that means. With a coy little smile I invited him up to my apartment. Before anything even happen he declared again “I only have safe sex.” How presumptuous of him! A) that I only have unprotected sex because I am poz and B) that I would have sex with him on our second date. (Ok, maybe B is a bit of a stretch but you know what I mean).
We started to kiss. I don’t know if you could call it kissing. It was more like closed mouthed bird pecks. Was he afraid of kissing me because of my status? Did he have some tight mouth muscle constriction ailment? Since I am a person that always finishes what I start, I found myself with my clothes off. This did nothing for the tight lip situation.
He just laid there like a dead fish. The was practically no passion. He barely touched me. This fueled my fire even more. Before I write him off, I want to exhaust all avenues of attack, so I do what we good gays learn at an early age: fellatio. I had no doubt that he would enjoy it, but what we also learn as a good gays is the act of reciprocation. Alas, he was staying as far away from my kibbles and bits as he could. So I decided to take matters into my own hands. Yes, we ended with the dreaded mutual masturbation. I never really got this as a shared sexual act. To me masturbation is something that you do on your own, definitely not as a team sport.
When I finished being a good teammate, he jumped so far away he almost fell off my bed. There are two possibilities here. Either he has a problem with me being positive tried to face his fear and fell flat on his face or he is just completely horrible in bed and has an ungodly fear of semen. Both of which are causes for termination.
I guess he wasn’t my Anne with an E, he probably was just my Josie Pye.