Confession Time

Here I go again, into territories that are not so uncharted. I spoke previously about an ex that I was thinking of seeing again, but I swiftly and skillfully avoided reconnecting. After considering all the variables at play, I realised that I just wasn’t up for a first date with someone that I had had at least twenty dates with before.

I’m happy with my decision to let it slide. Instagram is still around, so I get to see his ever more attractive face from the comfort of my own home, without having to worry about the inevitable repeat of whatever went wrong in 2013.

I’ve been minding my own business and enjoying my break from varsity these last two weeks – no boys, not in any serious way at least. There has been some flirting with guys whose numbers I already posses, and I visited an old acquaintance two weekends ago. Other than that, just me, series and Stephen King, and friends and family of course.

Last night I got a text from a guy that I hadn’t seen in months. He told me he was bored and I suggested we go out. He said he didn’t want to, which I found odd after a text out of the blue, simply claiming to be home and bored, but whatever. I was going to let it go and continue my movie binge watching, when I got an even weirder text from him. He led with “Confession Time” and proceeded to tell me that he used to like me a little. I mean, I knew he used to like me since we went out once or twice when I also thought that I used to like him.

I’m not sure why we saw each other so few times. Actually, as I typed that last thought, I remembered. He was still hung up on someone and I was still hung up on someone else. Sometimes I wonder if I still am…

He’s two years younger than me, which isn’t usually something I’d go for, but he’s attractive. Portuguese, dark, great hair. The age thing is a bit of a problem, because he says things and sometimes maybe does things that are a bit young. Is that really an issue though? Can’t that just be fun? I’m thinking that maybe it bothered me more than it should have.

Something else that kind of irritated the crap out of me was that he would wear shorts and sneakers, Nike of course, when we went out. That’s all good and well for a daytime thing, but not when we go to drinks and a movie at night and to a nice cocktail place.

The last thing that really annoyed me about him was that my best friend didn’t like him. She met him once, for like 20 minutes, but how could I date someone that doesn’t get along with a friend. Not only would I get constant shit from this friend, but the boy could never come out with us. Even if I was the only one to know about the dislike, it would be awkward – I would have to watch fake pleasantness and, in the slightly paraphrased words of Nicki Minaj “phony bitches would  front they chum-chummy”.

Why even write about some kid who messaged me out of the blue for a quick, random and slightly awkward chat? Well, because I’m seeing him tonight. We’re going to see the movie that I was meant to go and see with the re-return from the first part of this post.

I’m unsure if he told me that he used to like me to find out if I ever liked him, which I didn’t admit to last night, or if he wanted to know if we could possibly still happen. Otherwise he may have just felt like telling me for no particular reason – simply to put it out there and let me know that those feelings are in the past.

It doesn’t matter all that much since I have no idea if I have any feelings for him somewhere hidden within. But, having said that, what if I do? I should not have agreed to and encouraged the idea of the movie tonight, but it’s the last installment in the Hunger Games franchise and I really want to see it.

So I’ve essentially set myself up for an awkward evening where neither one of us is going to know if it’s meant to end in a kiss, a hug or a business-like salute from me and a very confused wave from him.




White Noise

Last weekend I was contacted by a previous regular hookup of mine. It had been a while since I had ventured into the land of subtle lighting with anyone, so I agreed to go to his place on the Sunday evening.

Usually I would go over and we’d exchange some meaningless chatter for a few minutes, less than 30 minutes I’d say, but this time was different. This boy, he happens to be two years older than I am and taller than me but I’ll refer to him as a boy ok?, leads me to his bedroom and we both lie down. Instead of chatter he looks at me and starts telling me about the guy he had recently broken up with. I had no idea he had been seeing someone so I was shocked and didn’t have a heartfelt response ready – anyway, I had something else on my mind and was never planning on being his emotional support that night.

I felt like the right thing to do was humour him and let him tell me some things that he needed to get off his chest. It couldn’t go on for more than a few minutes, right? Wrong. He told me that he had been seeing this guy for a year and a half – this was worrying, I hadn’t even known this boy, my hookup, for that long. Of course I felt like I had to bring this up. He assured me that he only saw me when he and his long term boy were on the rocks every now and again. Is that even okay? Shouldn’t I have been informed of the situation? A simple ‘Hey, so my boyfriend and I are taking a break, you cool with that?’ isn’t too much to ask is it? This especially bothers me since I do not want to wedge myself into these things. I try to stay out of typical gay community drama as much as possible – well, unless I stand to gain something that’s really worth the drama.

So after this lovely shocker, I’m actually ready to leave and not turn back as I walk off into the moonlight. Instead, I’m kind of trapped because I’ve only been in there for about 5 minutes and my apparent new best friend wasn’t showing signs that he had any plans to either stop talking about his love life or to undress any time soon.

The chat ended up lasting about three hours, no jokes. He told me that he was in love with this guy, but he’s my age, so probably too young to understand love and that screwed it all up. I was indignant at that, but couldn’t argue about the naivety of the very early twenties. Let’s call the guy I went to see A, just to rule out some ambiguity. So A tells me that he is planning on moving into an apartment block closer to campus, I think that might have happened since I saw him actually. Not only does he ask me to help him move??? but he also mentions that his ex used to stay in this block. I assured him that all would be well since the ex had moved out, but I was also clearly very busy so I couldn’t help him move.

I don’t even really know what to say here. Clearly it’s a bad idea to move into the same building your ex used to stay in. A went to visit this ex there countless times and the ex’s brother still lives there. Lying about it working out fine was the only way for me to actually get around this topic. Telling him I couldn’t help him move… I don’t think I need to justify that.

I won’t mention specifics about the rest of this long rant that I had to sit through, I think I made my point.

What I do want to mention is how awkward it is to go over with one thing in mind and instead being told how the love of his life is no longer there. I mean, we still got around to hooking up, but what on earth is the world coming to?



Slim Pickings

It happened. I passed my prime, and I spoiled it.

So not much was happening on the dating front – the re-return had inevitably gone stale, even though he texted me again first, and the extended play, well he was always out of my league.

So tonight, it’s now two-thirty am, we went to Babylon, the very same gay club that I’ve mentioned before. The night started off slowly, the place was pretty empty, but it got full by midnight. My friends kept urging me to hook up with someone, and I kept saying there was no one that caught my eye. Lies. There were many potentials, but none of them seemed interested at all. I’m shy when it comes to club hookups, and I’m also not really keen on the whole one night stand idea, but come on, usually at least one or two guys try to hit on me.

I’m 22, which means the sweet spot for a gay social life has passed me by – the sweet spot being from 16 to 21. Our fresh faced younger “straight” friend, who I’ve always suspected, got free drinks and guys wanting him to leave with him. He’s 21, but with his perfect face and care-free demeanor he could pass for 17.

I’ve always known that gay years don’t exactly correspond with the normal passing of time, and I knew that if I wanted to settle down, I’d have to do it sooner rather than later, but hell, I never knew being 22, and by some accounts a catch, would translate as me leaving the party alone every night for the rest of time. I mean sure. I can still hook up on Grindr, or Tinder or whatever, but even those desperate guys seem content to only speak to me for one day and then forget about it.

I even skipped the traditional McD’s after a night out and am planning to run until I puke tomorrow, because I’m terrified of not even being attractive and young enough for a casual night of, well, you know.

I’m currently convinced that all those forever alone memes were created not only for me, but for all the old and decrepit gays out there that are older than 21.

Is this the end of my sex life and the end of my search for someone to spend my life with? It might sound melodramatic, but I looked banging tonight, and no one seemed to care.

The Re-return

I have this feeling that I’m going to have the option of re-returning to an old.. flame? Let’s call him that for now.

See, the re-return is the action of re-dating someone, be it a full fledged ex or even just someone who you vibed with for a while. I’ve always had a a strict no re-return rule – if things didn’t work the first time, there must have been a reason, and that action likely to repeat itself.

So the possible re-return, we’ll call him Designer, is a guy I met the year after I graduated from high school, in what I’m now calling my gap year. I dated someone else for a good portion of that year, and I met Designer after we broke up. He was attractive, sweet, funny and the nicest guy I had met in a while. We hit it off and started going out, sort of.  We saw a lot of each other and met each other’s friends, so I guess you can say we were dating.

In the very early stages, before we were really anything to each other, we went gay clubbing with some other friends. gay clubbing is almost always a mistake, a mistake with great music. Anyway, so Designer made out with someone right in front of me and that pissed me off. I should have called it off then and there, but if you’ve read anything I’ve posted before, you know I’m a sucker for punishment. So my response was to go make out with the same guy later that night. The things you think are a good idea when you’re young and slightly inebriated. We became exclusive that night.

We went strong for a while, but he worked full time, and I started my medical degree the next year, a little while after we started seeing each other. He was also not out yet, and we know how I feel about that – he’s out now though at least. I started seeing less and less of him as time went on and eventually we decided to end it, whatever it was.

I saw him out now and again, as happens in this city. With a population of more than 4 million and more than 7 million in the greater Jo’Burg area, you’d think I’d run into fewer exes when I go out. I ran into him again this year, in early May, when we were celebrating my birthday at the same gay club where we both made out with a handsome stranger that night many years ago. I got pretty crunk that night, it was for my birthday after all. So we made out, this designer and I.

It was good, but it was meant to be a one time thing. He texted me the next day and we chatted a bit for the next few days. The conversation fizzled out as it always seems to, until last week that is.

I wake up one morning last week to a text with a picture from one of the first times we went out way back when. I sent back a laughing emoji and mentioned that my hair was horrible back then, which is completely true by the way. He responds with a picture in which I’m trying my best to blue steel and pout and smolder all at once. It was terrible, but he followed the picture with a heart-for-eyes emoji. This made me smile and right there Id decided the conversation wouldn’t fizzle out so quickly this time.

We’ve been chatting since then and we plan to meet up some time to catch up. This follows my exes and ohs post, both because it seemed like a good follow-up and because somehow all of this is happening at once.

From what I’ve told you here, it may seem like I’m basing my opportunity for a re-return on very little. That’s because I’m scared he may read this in the future and the less I say about it, the better.

I do however feel like the opportunity is real. The question is just, have we changed and matured enough in the last three years for it to work this time, or am I setting myself up for disaster by even considering this?

Exes and Ohs

When a relationship ends things tend to be a little awkward. If you do the breaking up then the other party inevitably hates you for a period of time, even if they still love you. That seemed like a juxtaposition, but I’m sure many people have experienced this very weird emotional position – an example that I experience all the time is my folks, they annoy the hell out of me sometimes with their old-timey views and lack of understanding of things happening around them, but of course I still love them. When I’m broken up with, or even when I break up with someone, I feel something similar to this. I just can’t really go back to the person after I cool down and say sorry, I love you. But can you, after a cool-down period, go back and give them a a different kind of love? Can exes be friends?

Usually I’d say no. I’m fantastically good friends with some girls I dated way back when in primary school, because I have since come out, and anything in primary school can’t actually count when you’re in your twenties, right? Right. There are, however, no guys from my past that I’m actually properly friends with. I’ll see some of them out now and again, or send or receive a text from one if we need to discuss something specific. But friends? No, I still refer to them as ‘my ex’, not ‘my friend’.

This past weekend I had yet another birthday party with a theme – ‘Squares and Drapes’. If you don’t know what that theme entails, it’s from some Johnny Depp movie made in 1990. Anyway, I didn’t know what to wear and one of the very few people I knew was going to be there, was an ex. I sent him a text the morning of asking what I should wear, what I really wanted to gauge was if it was going to be an awkward evening or not. Turns out we’re fine now, almost two years after we broke up. I’m sure it helped that he’s been in a year-long relationship with someone new, even if it’s long distance. He seemed happy and we got along just fine.

The only hiccup was when I had to explain why I did not go to his birthday party a few months ago, even though quite a few of my friends ended up going. I said it was because I felt like I was the obligatory invite, the guy you invite because you feel like it’s the right thing to do – it’s the absolute worst when they actually end up coming. This explanation was mostly true. I also just didn’t feel like a room full of attractive gay guys when I’ve really been letting myself go for the last six months or so.

So that went well – we’re still not going to be in the business of inviting each other out to coffee or clubbing though. Still just ‘my ex’.

Now, some people may or may not remember Ben from at least two of my other recent posts. We vibed for like a month, that’s no time at all. I developed a semblance of feelings very quickly though, possibly just because I hadn’t had any for anyone in quite some time. Well whatever the reason for my ridiculous affections, they were there. Now it’s his birthday this coming weekend and lo and behold, he’s having a party. It’s Halloween themed – apt. Not only because it’s Halloween on Saturday (also JHB gay pride that day by the way), but because I’m terrified of going. I’ve been checking the Facebook event and many of my friends are going. So is Gaysian, from my extended play post.

The reason I’m terrified, is because we were never friends and we were never together, but we kind of broke up. We haven’t texted in weeks and it’s awkward when we run into each other, unlike the ex that I saw last week. I don’t want to go and be awkward and I don’t want to not go because then it’s obvious that I’m not going because I dread seeing him. Is it obvious?

Anyway, he invited 150 people. He’s personally told me that he dislikes some of the people on his guest-list. Am I one of those people for real this time? The one that you feel you have to invite to be polite, but secretly you really hope they don’t come.

What’s the right move here? Do I go because my friends are going, do I go because I want to show him that I’m over it, or do I not go and risk being the guy that can’t be friends with a whole group of people because of one failed relationship attempt with a member of said group?

Did I burn a bridge here? Or if I haven’t burnt one, am I risking doing just that?

Label It

This is something that intrigues and confuses me, and it has for a long time. I posted about coming out just a few days ago, and although I didn’t really feel like telling my own story, I tried to convey that I’m all for coming out and being gay and being happy. But is it really that easy to label yourself and then just live with it?

At my university, we have an annual event called the Medics Pub Crawl – it’s pretty fun I think. I’m not really sure, since the goal is to be off your face even before you get on the bus to the first destination. At last year’s pub crawl, as is my tradition when going out, I mingled with many groups of people and not just my everyday group of friends. So on one of the buses between venues, I sat with some girls in my class. We were all pretty well socially lubricated at this point, so things got a bit flirty as they often do. They all knew that I was gay and I knew that they all knew, so it’s all good if we flirt a bit. No harm done. Except that I ended up almost making out with the one girl, but picked her friend instead. This caused some friction there apparently, oh well. Anyway, the one I chose is taller than me, has beautiful blonde curls or waves or whatever and has a banging body. It just happened, and it was fun for both of us I hope.

Later that night, at the last venue, I spot this super tall guy who is also in my class. I had never really spoken to him before that evening, but I had always assumed that he would swing both ways. So we’re on the street and I approach him and attempt to chat him up, and it works. Did I mention that he’s taller than me and had brown curls or waves or whatever? The reason I’m drawing this comparison is simply because sometimes it’s true that you have a type, but can your type resonate with you regardless of gender?

For me the answer is almost always no, but after a few drinks I enjoy making out with girls. I assume it’s just because I enjoy making out and it doesn’t really have anything to do with sex or gender, as long as there’s some level of physical attraction.

The reason for the backstory was really so I could mention the tall guy. Let’s just call him J. J is a vegetarian and looks like a hippy sometimes and like a hipster other times. He’s a model and a medical student, so he checks a lot of boxes and leaves many other boxes blank.

My sometimes socially awkward friend doesn’t make out with too many people when she’s drunk, instead she asks questions and brings up things best forgotten. I mentioned earlier that J and I didn’t really speak before we kissed a year ago, well now we’re in the same group of friends, so we speak rather often. At a party last weekend the awkward bestie asks him about his label. He responds, quite casually I might add, that he isn’t sure what he is. He likes girls but he could also easily make out with me again right there and then. I responded that it would not be that easy, just because I didn’t know what to say.

The akward bestie, I think that’s what I’ll call her from now on, seemed unsure how she felt about this, purely from a ‘what box in my head is reserved fir this’, kind of perspective. I tried to come up for J and said not to label him, he’s clearly not at either extreme of the Kinsey scale. I felt very cosmopolitan and forward thinking for saying this, but then I started really thinking about it. I think I may need labels. I think society as whole may function better when we can label things. I tried to imagine dating not J, but someone like him, someone who didn’t really know what they wanted.

I’ve been struggling with simply the idea of dating a bisexual man. I don’t know why it’s such a weird thing for me, I hook up with guys and girls but have no emotional or romantic attraction to girls so I’m not quite identifying as bi. Should it bother me that a bi man could just as easily leave me for a woman as for another man? Probably not. What does bother me and I feel like it may be more justified, is that a bi man can never be at the same comfort level with my girl friends as I am, there’s a possibility of sexual attraction there. I’m the jealous type, so maybe that’s what’s shining through here if we’re being completely honest. So did I just decide that the ‘Bi’ label is an exception? Do we want labels, but ones that say something concrete, like ‘I want a girlfriend’ or ‘I want a boyfriend’ rather than ‘I’m single’?

Back to the J situation. If you’re unsure what you want, and you date a boy for a year just to realise that you really want to marry a woman instead, is that fair to either of you? If you don’t want the world to label you, that’s probably completely okay, but maybe you should have a label tucked away in your mind just for your own personal use?

Obviously I can’t really come up with a concrete solution to the problem of labeling, and maybe there isn’t a problem at all. Maybe it’s all much of a muchness and every situation warrants a complete evaluation by itself.

Friendship Whore

I had recently been called a friendship whore, and I was appalled. In the context it simply seemed to suggest that I had a few different groups of friends, so when I attended events I could not be counted on to be someone’s pillar and keep them company for the whole evening. That actually doesn’t sound so bad does it? Having quite a few friends could sometimes be considered a good thing.

The reason it upset me, not to my core, but on a rather superficial flesh wound kind of level, was because someone I like as a friend called me a Friendship Whore. I mean, there can be no good intent when calling someone any kind of whore, unless when quoting Mean Girls, and subtly letting someone know they’re part of your crew with a playful “Boo, you whore”.

I remembered the phrase in question this morning, while considering the weekend ahead – thinking where I had to go and who I was likely to see and what we might have to talk about. Halfway through my mental preparations it popped into my head –  “You’re such a friendship whore”. I considered this accusation and its validity, especially in a context where I was actually thinking ahead about what to say to different people at social events. I know that it’s really because of social anxiety and not wanting to have to improvise if I ran into someone that I had nothing to say to, but I think maybe it could come across as some form of friendship whoring.

Just to really be sure if I could be described as such a fiend, I did a quick internet search of the term. Of course. there is a certain not so official online dictionary that has a definition for this phrase, this title, this… insult. It is described as someone who pretends to be a nice person so that they can be your friend and your trusted confident, but then turns out to really not give a damn about you. Not only that, but the victim of the charade is then so deep in this whore’s grasp that they can never be angry enough to justify breaking off the friendship.

Now I’m a bit uncomfortable. Is this a status that I actually have among people? Worst of all, the one that first brought my attention to my whoring ways is in my class, one of my peers and someone that I see regularly and will have to see for at least three more years. This is fine. What’s not fine, is if other people agree, other people who are also my peers and who also have to be in my life for years to come.

Maybe I should simply embrace the idea and allow people to fall into my black widow-esque clutches from which there is no escape and build an army of devout, if not slightly sad and hurt, patrons of whoring.

I feel like maybe this is all coming off very dramatic and woe-is-me. I’ll mention that as much as this is a worry in my life, it’s not really a worry in my life. That makes total sense right? Good.

Coming Out

In my weekend haze of sleep and binge eating, I missed coming out day. Hoe embarrassing for me.  If I’m telling the absolute truth, I actually had no idea that I was missing it – I either never knew such a day existed, or I had simply forgotten about it.

I was going to use this post to complain about the fact that gay men and women, not to mention transgender folks and a multitude of other fringe sexualities, actually still have to come out. I was going to use the argument that it’s 2015, and straight people don’t have to come out as straight and blah blah blah. You know, the usual indignation about things that won’t change simply because I’m indignant about it.

I’ve decided against going that route, and would rather say something about how great it is that there is actually a day for coming out. It puts some kind of pressure on society when a mass of young boys and girls all flock to social media on one day to declare themselves normal, and proud of it. I’m using the word normal because that’s exactly what LGBTQI people are, just a different kind of normal. That last sentence was written with my tongue literally nestled in my cheek, its favourite position, by the way.

Not only does it give the individuals actually doing the coming out a chance to start living life as themselves, but it also encourages those not ready this year to potentially start readying themselves for a big reveal next year. We must all know that having a date in mind for the completion of any project helps you and forces you to get it done. It’s no different with coming out. It’s a battle you need to fight and being able to postpone the inevitable makes it so easy to do.

I remember coming out quite well. Actually, that’s a lie. I was 14 at the time, and what i remember the most clearly is the fallout at home and at school. I don’t feel like rehashing the whole thing, it’s not a very entertaining story. What is worth mentioning though, is that people who aren’t too impressed when you tell do get over it and eventually grow the hell up – yes, even mothers.

I’m 22 now and mostly happy and comfortable with the whole thing, even though there are still assholes out there that say fantastically homophobic things to my face. It will happen to anyone, no matter how long you’ve been out or where you’re from or where you fit in to the LGBTQI spectrum, so fear of such immature and most likely dumb folks is no reason to postpone living your best and most honest life.

That’s really all I have on the topic right now. So come out, be you and live your life.

All About That Dating Life

So my previous post raised the question if people, particularly young gay men, still date. It also made me wonder if we don’t date because promiscuity is just so great, or if it’s because the dating pool is shallow at best.

These two things probably aren’t mutually exclusive. I’ve met quite a few guys that I wouldn’t mind dating, but many of them seem to prefer just getting it on and then moving right along. I can’t say that I haven’t been guilty of this. Just last week a boy told me that he loved me and my response was to keep making out, and taking a quick pause to tell him that he must be mistaken.

This particular fellow lives in a different country and is heading back there today actually. I’m avoiding the whole situation until I know he’s safely out of my hood. Does that make me a terrible person?

I’m conflicted. On the one hand I really want to be in the type of successful relationship I see on campus every day. But on the other hand, I like keeping it casual and not giving someone the opportunity to screw me emotionally.

Does it all come down to some form of fear? A fear of commitment, a fear of catching the feels in a real way, a fear of rejection? What about when it becomes boring, which it inevitably has to? Is it all worth the effort and the self-esteem blows?

I haven’t been in a relationship in just about 18 months. I’ve had my fair share of flings and dates, but not one that seemed like it could be a potential life changer – maybe Ben from the last two posts but look how that panned out.

I just joined Tinder for  the one millionth time. I’m telling myself it’s for research – you know, so that I have something to write about on here. Maybe it is to an extent, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy the matches and the messages and just the general ego boost when you realize that there are some people out there, albeit not that many, that want to talk to me because they find my Facebook pictures attractive.

That brings me to the next dilemma that us would-be daters have to face. Narcissism.

In a world of TV, Grindr, Tinder, Facebook, Pinterest, the internet in general and even blog sites like Tumblr and Twitter, society is constantly told to look at things. We don’t read like we used to, we don’t talk like we used to. Our interactions are so driven by visual stimulation that we expect nothing but the most beautiful and most stunning. I’m complaining about it yeah, but just like I enjoy a casual fling when I secretly want to date, I also judge on appearances, and way too harshly. I physically struggle to watch movies made before the dawn of CGI, and I hate when lead roles are portrayed by anyone less attractive than Keira Knightly or Matt Bomer.

Dating sites are so bad in this regard. You simply swipe left, ignore a friend request, block, unfollow if someone isn’t as aesthetically pleasing as your dream partner is in your mind’s eye. Imagine we did the same in real life. Imagine for a second someone did the same to you – try approach someone in your class, place of work or in a bar and they simply ignore you or ‘swipe’ you out of their way. It all seems so messed up, and yet we thrive on it. We check our likes on Instagram and our retweets and favourites on Twitter and bask in the glow of having the best follows to following ratios. I’m completely immersed in the culture myself, there is no turning back.

But what does everything I’ve said so far mean? What does it mean for the future of dating, particularly for my future in terms of dating? Well, I guess I don’t know. Do I suck it up and stay single forever, hooking up randomly for as long as possible, or should I go to gym, be on a perpetual diet, be tanned as all hell all the time and hope that someone swipes right?

This is where I’ll end off, no closer to an answer than when I began.

When You Meet Someone New Part 2 

Right. Where was I? 

So I saw Ben at a hipster music festival. He never came to the after party and took at least 12 hours to send me a message after I gave him my number (three day rule for who). 

Let me mention right now that he pretty much led with “I’m not looking for a relationship right now” when we started chatting. I heard him, I told him I’m not keen on a casual hookup. I don’t recall him responding to that though. And let me be honest – I didn’t care that he said that, he was smart and attractive, so I convinced myself on the spot that I could change his mind if given the chance. 

So he eventually texts me and I, being as cool and collected as I am, reply minutes, no seconds later. I’m not proud of it, but I’m also not ashamed. So we chat. And it’s pretty damn great. For a whole Sunday we ‘talk’ crap and admit to doing the compulsory social media stalking on one another’s accounts. 

But, somehow, I feel like that Sunday, a week or so after meeting him for the first time, my thing with Ben had come to an end. 

For the next week, he texts me back intermittently at best, sometimes with 48 hours between responses. I know, people are busy, we all have things to do. But not being able to reply to a text message … To me that means your phone got stolen, you’re dead or you’re just not interested. 

I knew his phone wasn’t stolen – he replied to my friend. That also rules out being dead I guess. So that left one option, one option that I was hell bent on ignoring. 

Have I mentioned that playing it cool is not my strong point? It really isn’t – wow. So I tried my best to only reply hours after this boy sends me a message and sometimes succeeded. But I also wanted to be on his mind, so now and then I would send what I thought was a cute text – just a “Have a nice day” type of message with an emoji or two, you  know. Of course, no response to these little gestures of kindness and potential brain washing. 

So I play this game for week or so, wanting to give up but also wanting to keep trying. Friday night plans come out of nowhere and guess who happens to be included in said plans? 

So by the time I get to the bar, Ben is wasted and dancing with a bunch of girls – heaven forbid a guy comes near him in public. 

I take the hint and sit with with a gaggle of gays waiting for a drink. I hit it off with these guys and Ben notices. He asks me to take a walk with him and I pretend to think about it – who am I kidding, I said yes almost immediately, only pausing long enough to try and contain my joy. I sound like a typical highschool girl right now, don’t I? Oh well. 

So we took a walk, and we made out. It was fantastic. It felt like he knew me. You know how generally a first kiss is akward and uncertain? This was anything but that. It was the stuff of movies and novels and other luckier people’s blogs. And then he ruined it by telling me that he knew how great it was, because he’s well aware that he’s awesome and a great kisser. I’m all about cocky assholes, but let’s calm down. 

This is turning out to be a very  long story, I’m sorry. 

That was it for that night, he went off back to his friends and I went back to the gaggle. I left soon after and didn’t speak to him again until I saw him again the next day. 

Saturday. I go to a birthday picnic, basically the pre game for a swing party (Jazzy type vibe) later that night. Ben’s there. We say hi and that’s it. 

At the Jazz party we don’t really talk, he tells me I look good and we take a bunch of photos with the gang. The rest of the night he speaks to my best friend more than he speaks to me but I figure that’s not too odd. She’s pretty cool after all. 

We both end up staying at a mutual friend after the party, in the same bed. Unfortunately there are no juicy details to share. We kissed for 5 minutes. He fell asleep. He woke up and we cuddled. That’s it. At this point I’m sure you can imagine how self conscious I feel – I’ve never had someone fall alseep that quickly, no matter how wasted. 

Next morning. Sunday. He wakes up a few minutes after me, gets right out bed, takes all his things and goes and chills with the friend whose house we’re at. I think my ego died there and then. I get dressed. I have some much needed water, brush my teeth and we all go to breakfast. 

Later we text. He says his quick escape was to avoid being awkward, because he’s weird and doesn’t know how to deal with such things. 

This was two weeks ago and I believe it was our last conversation. I’ve seen him since and bummed a cigarette off him. Oh he also poked my abdominal region cause he knew I had to pee and clearly likes to see me squirm. 

I know. What a long ass story and what an anticlimax. Now imagine how I feel. This made me wonder – do people, specifically young gay guys, still date? Are there any potentials out there?  Or are we all destined to an eternity of Grindr and meeting pretty boys with zero social graces?