The First

Ah, the First. No, I am not referring to the final foe of Ms. Buffy Summers. Even though this particular First can cause as much carnage and mayhem as The First Evil, I am referring to the First Love.  You know, the boy that broke your heart so bad and no matter how many evil things he might have done, you still remember him fondly. And even though I wasn’t meant to spend the rest of my life with, I am somehow cosmically connected to. Yes. That First.

He wasn’t the first guy I dated. That happened when I was sixteen and just coming to terms with my sexuality and I was lucky enough to find another fledgling gay boy. So, obviously it was love  – or at least that is what I thought. This ridiculous notion seemed to carry me through my next couple of relationships in college. Continue Reading…

Twitterpation

“Nearly everybody gets twitterpated in the springtime. For example: You’re walking along, minding your own business. You’re looking neither to the left, nor to the right, when all of a sudden you run smack into a pretty face.”

I was still on Cloud  9 for days after my first date with Martin, the South African. Unfortunately for me, Martin, who was in the process of getting his MFA in creative writing, had absolutely no free time. And to make it worse, the following weekend he was going on trip to DC, then had houseguests, and was then taking a long weekend trip to Montreal to visit his sister. Needless to say, we were hard pressed to find any time to hangout.  Continue Reading…

I’m Not Always the Good Guy

I am not always the good guy. I am not always the guy who, because of being HIV-positive, looses out in love. Sometimes, just sometimes, I find myself in the role of the bad guy.  And when that happens, I don’t know why but I truly commit to that role.

Let me explain.

The tall guy, David, did indeed ask me on a date. It was your typical date: coffee and a movie. He was very sweet, smart and yes, very tall.  After the date, David did the gentlemanly thing to do, and walked me home. Before you ask, I did not invite him up to my apartment, but he did have to lean far down to give me a good night kiss. Continue Reading…

Press Your Luck: An Online Dating Parable

Online dating is tricky. One might even say it is akin to going on a blind date. At least with the latter you are being set up by friends who hopefully have your best interests at heart and not by a random computer equation. It can be quite surprising when X + Z = Y actually solves in your favor.

A major problem with online dating is creating your own profile. It can be overwhelming. You must sound articulate, funny, adventurous, and sexy. It usually takes me at least four drafts before I am remotely satisfied with how I come across. As we all know, there are many MANY people that do not take that sense of pride, or anal retentiveness, in their profiles. I have one thing to say to you budding online daters: Spell Check. To be honest, all that can be over looked with some great photos; it’s shameful but true. Continue Reading…

I Don’t Know Why They Had to Single Me Out!

The Smell of Ignorance

I knew better than to expect much in the way of romance after a text I got from my recent lunch date:

                  I am horny for your [body part] again.

But as the week progressed I started to wonder… My lunch date kept texting me – some were very adorable; some were funny; and yes, some would fall into the category of sexting. But maybe my initial thought was correct. Maybe this random non-choleric meal could turn into something else. Could this muscled party-boy really be the perfect match for me?

What is so wrong with that? He is funny, great in bed, thinks I have an amazing body and he is OK with my HIV status. So why not give him a chance?

Also, at this point, I have learned not to count anyone out. Continue Reading…

Jumping Back In

I have the problem of never doing anything half assed. I usually tend to jump in with both feet without concern of any consequences. Sometimes this can be quite beneficial and sometimes…well, let’s just say it doesn’t end up anywhere close to what I was expecting.

Let me illustrate.

A long time ago, when I was living Philadelphia, I met this [sport] player, sigh. (Yes, we are playing MadLibs!) He was quite a [adjective] young lad, very tall and muscular. After our [number] date, I quickly found out that his [body part]matched the rest of his large frame. Being an equal opportunity employer and having never employed someone with such a large [same body part] before, I decided that I needed to do some work of my own. Continue Reading…

Pride and Prudishness

I am a prude. It’s true, I am. No, seriously.

I do believe in free love and make use of that freedom as much as I can, but I do it very prudishly. I have never been one for public sex or any sort of exhibitionist activities. Well there was that one time that I did a little more than kiss a stranger in a closed-off room at a dance club in Philadelphia, but I was so young and, more importantly, quite drunk. Never, I repeat, never would I desecrate a place where I go to worship or a place where I go to find solace.

Now, I am not a religious person. I grew up Catholic, we attended weekly services at a local church and my dad taught Sunday school. Did I mention that the services were in Spanish? Did I mention that even thought I am one half Puerto Rican I don’t speak one word of Spanish? So as a child, church was something very foreign to me, literally. Even as I got older, religion never really took. Continue reading…

Ptown Preening Problems

After my trip to Provincetown, I decided to send Dr. Perfect Hair a text. He wouldn’t have given me his number if he didn’t want me to contact him, right? The text was witty and pithy but I could tell with the curt reply that my fears were confirmed. My HIV proved to be a bit too much for him. Or could it have been something else?

Let me explain:

Like every good gay I like to make myself presentable. This includes the intricate art of manscaping. If you have the blessing/curse to grow body hair like a chia pet, you can do one of three things.

1. Shave yourself completely smooth and pretend that you are a twink;
2. Trim yourself – While you are still true to yourself, you are not overgrown; or
3. Embrace the hair and become a bear or an otter or whatever animal you wish to be called.

Continue Reading…

Trying to Let Things Go

For the past week and a half, I have been out of commission. No dates. No nothing. Before your imagination runs wild, it’s not because I found creepy crawlers in my nether regions… And no, I didn’t throw my back out in some crazy ménage à trois with a midget and a leather daddy.

Alas, I had the dreaded summer cold.

I spent the bulk of my time on my couch, snotty, trying to recover while watching romantic period dramas. As I watched Jane Austen’s Persuasion I couldn’t help to feel sorry for poor Anne Elliot. She was chastised as a spinster at age twenty-seven. This got me dreading my own impending birthday. I will be thirty-five in two weeks.  THIRTY FIVE! Continue reading…