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…)
Why is it that the most unattainable guys are the ones we are most attracted to? I’m not talking about the guys who we think are so gorgeous they repel anything less then themselves. No, I am referring to the men, who for one reason or another, we can never have. In the past couple weeks I have had two very different kinds of unattainables.
A couple of weeks ago a new friend of mine, Charles was performing in a new play. The only thing I will say about the production was that his performance was amazing, and I trust you will understand my implications. Afterwards, I was invited to have drinks with his friends.I have decreed that I am going to try to be more social this summer and thus going forward I am not allowing myself to use “doing laundry” as my excuse for not going out on a Friday night. So I said yes.
After the play we all walked to a nearby bar and I randomly made the decision to sit next to the boy with the biceps the size of cantaloupes. It was a valid choice that I stand by. His name was Malcolm. At first, Malcolm had no intention in speaking to me. In fact he had no intention to speak to anyone based on his complete enthrallment with the glowing light of his iPhone. So I chatted with some other new people and was starting to feel like part of the group. Then Malcolm put down his phone and noticed me and the night started to change. Continue Reading…
As the cold continued to descend upon the greater northeast, I decided to abandon New York City and escape the Polar Vortex for something a bit warmer. So, I whisked myself away on my first solo vacation and found myself on the gay friendly Caribbean island ofCuraçao. Now, what is the first thing we do when going to a new place? If you guessed “use our gentleman socializing applications to see what the natives are like” you are correct!
Don’t get me wrong; I spent so much time lounging on various lush beaches, swimming, snorkeling, and reading by the pool while drinking frozen drinks that I now have a new favorite come-on line: “Do you wanna see my tan lines?” But I also managed to meet some very interesting people on that small island, some of whom I fooled around with and some who I just hung out with. In my short time there, I met two different guys who were both HIV-positive and shared the same views on disclosing their status: they didn’t. Continue Reading…
William Shakespeare once wrote: “In springtime, the only pretty ring time. Birds sing, hey ding. A-ding, A-ding. Sweet lovers love the spring” Well, Shakespeare must have never had a winter like this one! For the past couple months, New York City has been wrapped in a blanket of snow and New Yorkers have been wrapped in their best down coats. For whatever reason, Mother Nature played a cruel prank on us this year and gave us what has been dubbed a Polar Vortex. Somehow this polar vortex has the boys of NYC on the prowl (more so than usual.)
After the Brians, I had planned to takes some time off from dating and boys in general. I wanted to focus on my newest obsession, my ukulele. Yes, you read that correctly. My Ukulele. I bought one for Christmas and quickly thereafter started taking lessons at the New York Ukulele School (again, I’m not lying). Continue Reading….
Let me back up a little bit and start from where I left off.
Yes, Thanksgiving. Brian visited and as you may have guessed we spent the majority of our time hidden away in my apartment and partly clothed. Unfortunately, I realized that our tryst was nothing more than what it was, just that, a tryst. Don’t get me wrong. I enjoyed his visit and at no point did I want to go send him to the store, quickly pack up my apartment, and move to Afghanistan leaving him in the dust. But the sparks that I remembered or hoped for weren’t there.
A couple weeks after Brian’s visit, I started dating someone else, Bryan. Certainly it made it easier for me to remember his name! Bryan and I started chatting on Scruff a while ago but nothing really came of it. Surprisingly, he texted me out of the blue for a drink. Drinks turned to dinner and dinner turned into a good night kiss. Continue reading…
I’ve lied to you.
Ok, not really lied, but I’ve been keeping things from you.
I swear it wasn’t my intention to be deceptive; it’s just that there are some things that aren’t story worthy. If I told you everything, you would hear stories much like: “I went to meet a mildly attractive guy, who had one extremely long nose hair that kept peaking out. After the date was over I went home and plucked and preened and made sure I was perfectly manscaped.” These non- stories are the byproduct of dating. We all have them. I am sure that I am in someone else’s blog as the anglophile with the overt obsession for Jane Austen. Continue Reading…
What constitutes an old maid in this day and age? I don’t mean the card game where you try your best to stick your opponents with the decrepit old women in the rocking chair. I am referring to the dreaded age when your family and friends stop wondering if you will shack up. The age when they give up hope that you will ever find love.
I have been thinking about this quite a lot lately. In all honesty, its mostly because I have a birthday looming – my thirty-seventh birthday to be exact – and I’m beginning to feel like I’m staring down the barrel of forty. I realize that forty isn’t, by any means, ancient. And I’m aware that men have been known to have children into their seventies. But no Charlie Chaplin am I…continue reading