Posts Tagged ‘Gay dating

19
Aug
13

Putting the Ass in Passive Aggressive

So, check this out:

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I had let a complete, Logo TV worthy, gay mini drama unfold without once writing or whining about it (Well, except to a few unfortunate choice friends). But this passive aggressive text put me Over the top. This is a conversation thread from Scruff, an app for guys who are all misfiring into a virtual sea of other guys either looking for love, sex or something in-between they aren’t so skilled at articulating. Of course I love it. And I have made several friends, play buddies and even romantic options (granted, failed options) in this venue. But some conversations are better had in person.

A friend of mine ended up on a date on Christmas Eve. And as we had both been enduring a period of rather tangible loneliness, I was trying to be supportive of this good turn of events. Until he texted me a picture. It was my ex. I admit that I immediately tried to act as if I wasn’t too hurt. Especially recalling how supportive I was of my friend telling me about the “best first date sex he’d ever had…” I also will admit that a list of incompatibilities scrolled immediately through my mind; of how one was too sexual and one was too needy for this to ever work.

It worked. And it bugged me. I couldn’t figure out why for some time. When I finally did uncover the rationale for my anger, it surprised me. I was upset because I wanted to respect my Ex’s feelings on monogamy. I have been poly curious for some time, and have yet to find a suitable dating partner who is willing to explore something genuinely with me. It’s not like I need to have things open right away, but I am interested in negotiating once I have a solid foundation with someone. I struggle with revealing this too soon or “leading someone on” – and both usually leave me right back where I started. Alone in bed. I know my former friend to be much more sexually adventurous, substance partaking and morally ambiguous than myself – all qualities I adored until directed towards an ex I still had feelings for. And out of respect for my ex I won’t relay why I felt he would be particularly vulnerable to my buddy’s unique brand of manipulation. So I did what I probably shouldn’t have. I contacted my ex to let him know that he’d better get real clear on who he was with and what they both wand out of it. I admit, I wasn’t expecting the response I got.

I was told at it was none of my business (true perhaps), that they had talked and this person did indeed want monogamy (a lie unless this person has dramatically changed in only weeks), and that at least this guy didn’t cheat on his ex…( a jab that never came out while we were together, and interesting power/hurt play. Also unfortunate because the guy he was defending had indeed cheated on his ex. With me). This last bit made it clear that feelings or not, I was to move on – and let this situation resolve itself. If they could find happiness together, who was I to deter them?

And then this Scruff message. His asking if I was still upset. Referencing the one man who served as both of our last boyfriend as “that one guy”? As if this were an ordeal from long ago? Bitch, please. And to top it off – to let me know the man I left in order to respect his monogamous wishes was cheating on me? “A lot”?! Which I doubt, but even if It is so – nice delivery bitch. But this person has never been one to miss a dramatic opportunity.

So I’m not pressed. But definitely intrigued. And surprised. I had thought for certain this was a match meant to last…

13
Aug
13

You’ve Got Male

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So, I got a text today. I know, interesting right? But seriously this isn’t the kind of text I get everyday. Although it is the kind of text I should get everyday:

Hi Carnelious, (sp?)
I just wand to apologize for my behavior yesterday. While you were the perfect guest I was sorely lacking as a host. Not only that your prowess as a top was impressive plus you were fun to be around, period. Your visit was a nice surprise and very enjoyable. Thank you again for your graciousness.

Crazy, right? The text that would redeem at least 75% of the 90% of dates that go horribly wrong (the other 25% of botched dates might be my stuff, I’m willing to admit that) finally arrives in my inbox. And (despite my misspelled name) it made me feel, well, proud. Proud that I am indeed secure enough in myself to maintain my grace and humor in the face of cynical gay minutiae. Proud that I can control my urge to either curse out, punch or angrily yelp about the elitist and judgmental gay who doesn’t want to be judged. And I guess, I might as well admit it, proud that someone finally “got” that regardless of their previous conviction – they’ve never really bottomed until I was inside them. i mean…as a sensitive, “Politically Correct”, mild mannered activist recently exploring his inner kink – it’s nice to have your inner stud verbally validated (in addition to whatever it is they usually yell into the pillow, that is.)

The only catch? I didn’t mind this particular guy’s hosting. Didn’t Even register it. He owed me no apology. Granted I’m a bit numb to manner-less gays, as to take offense to all of them would leave little time in my day. But there was no “continuation chemistry”. I was perfectly fine walking out that door with a familiar and hollow “call ya later.” And then this. He tells me what I’m staring at the phone, craving to hear from anonymous guys 1 – 9. And I’m not sure if I’m the Ass or the Hole. Or which is worse.

But beggars can’t be choosers. So ill take the compliment, politely refuse the second date, and revel in the fact that it is indeed possible to fuck some sense into someone.

Oh, by the way, I know what you’re thinking. And yes, I did sleep with him on the first date. Its not like I could afford to wait after all. If we were going nowhere fast, I at least wanted to enjoy the ride.

13
Feb
13

Thoughts on the A Train

In preparation for a friend’s birthday party, whose theme was celebrating personal transformations, I wrote this piece. Having agreed last minute to MC this event (I was in NyC for work coincidentally), I wanted to come prepared to share as the invitation requested. A transformation of either the past,the present or the future. The party was a celebration in 3 Acts – quite an intimate and engaging community building event. But I’d expect no less from the one of a kind host 🙂

Jammed into a Saturday night crowded A train, armed with my Holiday Inn Express pen and pad, trying my best to look cool and prepared for East Coast winter – I scribbled. A current transformation; to embrace my spirituality and sensuality in the same breath and not as isolated sides of a torn and searching soul. Embracing that both are at my core. Of course, this was prompted by the irritation (and rejection) I was feeling from my, well, um hook up apps. I had been on the road 7 days at this point with no booty. Criminal, right?

It is rare that I recite something raw, but I didn’t have time to edit – so herein lies the first draft version I shared under the candlelight in Birthday Act 2. Of corse I can start more easily trapped in rhyme, but it opens up towards the middle…when I got a seat on the train 🙂

……….

As I’ve begun to explore my inner freak,
I’ve assumed my spiritual future would be less than bleak.

That God is nowhere to be found
As I find pleasure round after round…

The Preacher’s Son that deep inside
Is being forced to duck and hide.

And it’s frustrated me time after time
To encourage everyone’s exploration, except for mine.

Stuck between the rock and hard place Of Spiritual and Freak.
Yet feeling a divine voice remind me that I, am unique.

I know a secret I’m all too glad to share,
My Divine Spirit follows me everywhere.

She doesn’t sit idly by waiting to be praised,
Or sit in judgment as many of us were taught as we were raised.

But when your brain is so forcefully taught that something is real –
I becomes easier and easier to ignore what your spirit feels.
And easier and easier to incorrectly name
The source, of that increasing shame.

Is it that I dare to love someone with anatomy like me?
That I believe love can exist in couples of more than 3?
Or that I have church in unlikely places
And find the beauty in those we should deny embraces?

Perhaps you find it blasphemous when
I denounce the saint who loves the sinner but hates the sin.
An ethical slut. A holy fuck.

A mind warped freak that believes in both grace and luck.
Doomed as an outcast from the stylish yet incredulous boxes of saints and sinners alike.
Searching for a community that won’t reject me for loving God or loving man.
I’ve yet to find it.

Amazed, by all the distance we create
In our convenient technological ways to stay close.

Do I really need to know that 250 men within 5 miles of me only fuck white guys?
O hate fate, fems, brown folks (even being brown themselves)
Or have a crazy definition of masculinity?
That my looking for something “more” Is offensive?
That my compliments are insulting?
That I’m your exception because I “don’t even look black!”

It is easy to internalize this wall of hate and return it.
But who, then, will teach the baby gays what fucking social skills are?

Dick sucking isn’t dirty, but wanting to laugh with you is.
Flogging you free of your childhood trauma isn’t as controversial as wanting to know your name.
Loving you because that’s my choice, not because you have to earn it. That’s crazy of me?

My sexuality scares my religious community.
My compassion scares my dating pool.
Where then do I go?
Where do morality and ethics exist in this lonely place?

How do I get the holy roller to embrace their freak
And the slut to nurture his spirit?

By being the sexiest fucking martyr you ever met.
By taking that confusion, misplaced fear and hate,
And returning it with love.
Compassion.
And good sex.

By remembering, always remembering
That I am not alone in this lonely space
Just aware.

And committing to reflect the beauty I see in you,
No matter now ugly you know yourself to be.
Now that’s hot.