A Terrible Sexual Encounter

I. Apologize. In. Advance. Warning. This. Blog. Is. Raunchy.

Anyway, I like to think I am a passionate lover. Everyone does, right?

But gay sex is different from straight people sex because well, to state the obvious, men are more sexually driven then women, so when you put two horned men in a bed... things can get cray cray.

Also, men love porn. We love it. We watch it and we just love it.

Which, in my opinion, is sort of a detriment because it plants these ideas in our heads--unrealistic ideas with unrealistic expectations.

This dude I hooked up with a while ago was a totally normal, smart kid; med student, a little boring, sort of bro-like... overall just pretty normal. In the bedroom he completely changed. It was as if he were completely separating himself from reality, slipping into his "gay sex" persona. Like there was his regular-self, and then there was his bedroom-self. His bedroom-self scared me.

He would whisper weird shit... raunchy shit... and he would force me to participate.

"You like that? You fucking like that, huh?"

.... silence.

"Tell me you like that!"

... silence. Hoping it would just stop.

He loses the sexy whispering tone and adds a tone of annoyance, "Um... I'm asking you a question, man."

I scoffed because he was dead serious. In a very not sexy way I said, "Oh, uhh yeah, yeah it's good."

I guess that satisfied him because he carried on...

But after a few moments he said, "Ohh yeah, I want to feel you inside me..."

My reaction this time: I'm laying on my back, eyes closed, enjoying whatever is happening. When he says that my eyes snap open, I raise one eyebrow and with my head stationary, my eyes look left to right, as if I'm looking to see if anyone else heard that... looking for someone with whom I can share my surprise... looking for advice on what to say back--obviously we were alone but that was my genuine reaction.

I want to feel you inside me???? 

I mean, I get how that can be sexy, I GET that sex-talk can be fun and good and it's normal but I don't know, it just seemed so cliché, so corny, so unoriginal. It's like something you'd say if you were making a joke... in fact I'm sure there are tons of instances where I've used that line as a joke! I just can't take that kind of talk seriously. Maybe I'm immature or maybe I'm prude but that's just corny to me. 

BUT it gets better because of course I didn't respond--which aggravated him. I don't know what I was supposed to say, I think he was expecting me to be like, "Yeah, baby, yeah let me put my big donger inside of you..." But no, that wasn't gonna happen. The word donger is sexy though, right? Hah

So he politely gave me a few moments to respond, but when I didn't he decided he had to be more direct, he said, "You wanna fuck me?" looking up at me with stupid puppy-dog eyes with my D in his mouth, "Tell me you wanna fuck me!"

I just laid there rolling my eyes. At that point I knew I had to respond. I could feel the pressure and I could sense him getting annoyed but I couldn't bring myself to say, "I want to fuck you, please let me fuck you." Also, more importantly, I DIDN'T want to fuck him. I told him that in the beginning. Idiot.

I'm such a prick, instead I just sorta mumbled. I just made incomprehensible sounds that sort of resembled English... any normal person would have accepted that and carried on... but no. This kid did not. Again he stopped using the sexy whispering voice and with a normal, dead serious voice he said, "Um, sorry I don't know what you just said".

In my head I was like, "Who is this kid? My D is in your mouth, just stop talking and do your job."

But I'm a coward and said what he wanted to hear, but like, begrudgingly, "OH, uhh, yes I want to... uh, yes, let's do that..." so unsexy-like... so round-about... I'm terrible.

Then the kid is having trouble cumming. He's trying all sorts of stuff and I am just so over this whole thing. But he won't give up. He is like oh try this... now try this... and I'm like dude, I came so long ago this is booooring and I'm tired. So I'm trying this or that... then he says, "OK, how about this, can you just like, get up, get out of bed and just like, stand there... and jerk off in front of me?"

So... you're really gonna make me do this huh?

My head, "Ughhh reeeeeeallly? I'm getting a headache. I hate you."

After letting out an audible sigh, my defeated response was a simple, "Ok?"

(notice the question mark at the end... that gives you the intonation you need to read that properly, like I am sort of asking him if he is really going to make me do that.)

So I do it. Part of me thinks it's sort of hot, but most of me feels awkward. He's just watching me now. He's literally just jerking off to me like I am now his porno. He isn't touching me, I'm not touching him. He is literally acting like I am on his computer screen and he is just jerking off now. Cool. Healthy. This is sex!

Then he said, "Cum on my chest, yeah cum on my chest..."

My head is pounding with a headache and that comment just made it worse. I look down and I'm thinking, this is just stupid, I'm just tugging on my flaccid penis to get this dude off because he can't cum the old fashion way--- and now he's asking me to "cum on his chest"? No. I'm not even hard, I'm not anywhere near close to cumming. 

So like the wet blanket that I am.... I get back in the bed and say, "Yo, I'm sorry I'm really tired, I just gotta lay down."

He was surprisingly accepting of that... I think because at this point, he was just really insecure about having not cum yet that he was almost glad the pressure was off now.

The next morning he was being really lovey which sort of made me vomit inside. He was like rubbing me and hugging me and I was just a wet blanket. So distant so disinterested. I am just a bad person. Then he was like, "Wow, that was hot last night, we went at it for like 3 hours!"

I just rolled my eyes. I mean it was definitely hot but I felt zero passion in it. It felt so forced, like he was trying to recreate a scene he had seen before instead of connecting with me. Not that I was looking for romance with him, but he kissed as if he were kissing anyone, didn't matter who, didn't matter at all. Just trying to get laid--which isn't really my world. 

So that was that-- a one time thing that probably should have never happened--and he's going to be someone's doctor one day. He wasn't even hot.

I just Don't See it...

I have this thing where I just don't find male celebrities that hot. It's like I am immune to the celebrity hype. People who know I'm a homo sometimes ask, who on TV do you think is hot? 

And I say, "Honestly, hardly anyone..."

Which always takes the attacker on a predictable course...

Attacker: "Eff you, liar!"

Me: "No, honestly I'm really not into anyone..."

Attacker: "Don't be embarrassed, come on... tell me."

Me: "I'm not embarrassed---I don't know!!... Shia Labeouf?"

Attacker: "HAHAHAH Are you asking me if you think Shia LaBeouf is hot?"

Me: "No! Well yes. I don't know! I'm really just not into celebrities!"

Aaaand I'm being honest. Why would I lie? I know I'm not out... but in my head I know I'm a gay person. So I'm not denying anything here... also, at the same time, if I see a person on the street or at the gym, I am so willing to play the hot or not game.

I always just feel like his personality
and his body are stupid.

But celebs? If they're universally considered super hot... I tend to just hate them... for example:

Channing Tatum: Hate
Taylor Lautner: Hate
Ryan Reynolds: Hate
Zac Effron: Hate
Christian Bale: Hate

Aaaand then there is this other category where I honestly just do NOT see the big deal:

Brad Pitt: Don't see it
Justin Timberlake: Don't see it
Ryan Gossling: Don't see it
Johnny Depp: Don't see it

I've gotten into fights about me not thinking Channing Tatum is hot... and I've managed to admit this... if I saw Channing Tatum at my gym or walking around DC then yeah, I'd probably be like "Daaaayum, son".

I love to hate you because you're the worst.
He was good on SNL though.

Which leads me to think... the hype is what turns me off. 

And at the end of the day I may personally have a conventional look to me... but that's not what I'm looking for... I mean the guy I'm seeing, Sean, is a hairy, beer-bellied Indian man and I am head-over heels (No, his name isn't really Sean, all the names I use in my blogs are fake, but consistent). I think he is one of the most attractive people I've ever known.... so... at the end of the day... maybe that's it?

Whatever... that is one of the best things about attraction... beauty is in the eye of the beholder--- which is great--- it gives everyone a shot... otherwise everyone would be perpetually disappointed if we all had our standards set to thinking we deserve the Brad Pitts and Ashton Kutchers of the world.

To each his own my friends. To each his own.

Gay Bars as the Straight Groupie

I’ve been to gay bars/clubs before… but only a few times and never as a gay person. I’ve only ever been as “a straight friend” accompanying his gay friend—

 
The most recent time was with my friend Alex. It started off being a normal night where we met up with a bunch of (straight) friends. Not having any luck hitting on girls, my friends were asking Alex and his friend Sam what it was like for gay men. Sam suggested we head over to a gay club to experience it first hand. I'm sure he was as surprised as I was to find that the reaction was a unanimous (drunken) “YES". Straight people are so dumb.

Sam is really just a friend of a friend but he is the gayest person I've ever hung out with socially--he cracks me up. He is definitely the type of person where, upon meeting him, you just know. He is an effeminate, flamboyant twink bottom--and a total bitch. He's "fabulous".

This is my oh-so-embellished memory of our arrival: Sam greets the bouncer, not with his ID, but with squeals, giggles and kisses on both cheeks, *peck, peck*! He takes off his form-fitted jacket and without even looking in the dude's direction, throws it to the coat-check guy as he marches on passed him. He looks around scanning the crowd for familiar faces with his chin held high. He's beaming with pride as he shows off his straight entourage behind him. He waives to the shirtless bartenders like a true regular and they immediately pour us all shots of tequila. Everything... was... fabulous.

We, the glorified straight entourage, just hung out in a big group like awkward straight people would. We immediately took more shots to expand our comfort zone. We weren’t mingling at all, just sorta hanging out, laughing, and enjoying the novelty of whatever was happening around us. There were older hairy men getting dirty on each other, small younger twink dudes making out. Solo creepy dudes just scoping out the situation. I actually saw one of the guys from my gym (who I still see today). He is older, 40’s, not attractive and pretty hairy. Luckily he didn’t see me but I was so drunk and so in my “straight guy” mindset that it hadn’t even dawned on me that if he DID see me, he would assume I was gay too. Stupid I know. 

Anyway, like I said, I had the whole gay part of me turned off. I’ve gotten so good at just assimilating to the straight world that sometimes I think I am straight. I was just enjoying the surroundings the same way my straight friends were… it was a novelty for me too after all.

I broke away from my friends for a second to go to the bathroom. I peed and then naturally went over to the sink to wash my hands. Keep in mind there were gay men all over the place, but I swear I didn't look at any of them, I wasn't even thinking, "Oh, I'm alone in the bathroom this is my chance to gawk and stare and be gay while my friends aren't around." Nope! I was in straight mode--maybe even more focused than usual despite being drunk.

Of course the sinks were really nice... they were raised fancy bowls fixed to the marble counter top with the faucet reaching tall and bending eloquently over and into the bowl. I didn't notice the guy next to me looking at me until I turned around to dry my hands.

I have no memory of how he initiated the conversation-- I just remember standing at the bathroom sink being completely and instantly engaged. Within moments I knew everything about him. He was in his late 20's, born and raised in Lebanon-- then moved to Minnesota where he went to college and now lives in DC working for some Arabic speaking news station. He had a "look" that struck me as interesting and fun, not like sexy or hot. I literally was talking to him as if we were in a coffee shop (except drunk). He said he knew French and so we were speaking a little bit, but I remember him not understanding me and I was thinking, "Fool, you do not know French" but it was probably that I was drunk and suck at it now. 

Anyway, my friends saw me chatting with this random dude and immediately thought, "We NEED to SAVE HIM!"

I admit I was being completely stupid and literally ignorant in thinking that he wasn't hitting on me. This blog is anonymous so I can say anything I want and will be completely, 100% honest here, I was NOT flirting with him. I had too much to lose... I literally just wasn't thinking about the implications of what I was doing--straight up ignorance. 

So my friends came up to us, rudely joined the conversation, and blatantly started pulling me away. I was like, "No guys, it's fine... it's fine.. it's.... OH MY GOD...."

Then I look at the kid in shock and lean into his ear (music was loud) and I said, "Wait a second, I'm NOT gay you know!"

He looked at me and in all seriousness said, "Yeah, no, me neither!"

Which is completely inconsistent with what happened next. He said, "... but I like talking with new, interesting people... please give me you number!" I have no memory of what happened exactly because I was ripped away and pulled upstairs.

We then went over to the dance floor and danced for like 2 minutes (see how drunk we all were? hah). We stopped because-- well for me 1.) it didn't feel right and more compellingly 2.) it was impossible to avoid these creepy older men who just kept staring at us, inching their way closer and closer until we just left.

All in all it wasn't the most eventful night... at least from what I can remember, but it was a good time-- a true novelty-- Something that I should try to get used to? Something that I should accept? 

Nahh. Honestly, it's just not my scene. Being gay doesn't always have to go hand-in-hand with Rhianna club music, flashing neon lights, and poppers..... (ok fine, no one mentioned anything about poppers, nor did I see any poppers-- I just wanted to throw that in there.)

Anyway,  I had a good night....and I have absolutely no idea how but I had A LOT of missed texts from a random Minnesota number the next morning.

Napkin Man

An impromptu post. But I have to share because 1.) it reiterates this idea that gay shit just happens to me and 2.) it's things like this that caused me to write this blog in the first place

This happened to me last night at a straight bar: James Hobans in Dupont.

So I then had to share with Sean, the guy I'm seeing, because he would think this is hilarious. Also the text nicely shares all the context you need.

**Note: I realize I am coming across as narcissistic--writing about how often I get hit on--but it's not my intent, it's events like this that made me think I need to write all this shit down because it's bananas. I'm not trying to brag or be narcissistic---treat it as a commentary on the gays? Or something? Leave me alone, OK?  

Alex Chronicles: The Better Gay

I'm embarrassed about this one. I am really good at blocking out memories I want to forget... you ready?

So in college I had a big group of 10+ close guy and girl friends. We were a huge group that did everything together. My school was pretty small and dweeby with an overall attractiveness score of a 3.5...maybe. I must say the girls were way hotter than guys so it made it a lot easier for lame dudes to get with hot chicks-- either way, the point is, my girlfriends were fairly attractive sorority girls. We had the small, flexible Asian: Kappa Delta, the crazy, untamed blonde: Delta Gamma, the sweet, wholesome jewish girl: Alpha Phi, and the sorta tomboy, unaffiliated chick... (I hate the term unaffiliated because it sounds like a medical term when all it means is a person who does not participate in greek life-- the term acquired a negative connotation at my school but I don't mean it that way here).

The guys were all very close but with any group there was always someone who was a little bit of an outsider. That kid was Alex. Alex is Jewish, but as much as I hate stereotypes, he was one. He was lactose intolerant, had IBS (Irritable Bowl Syndrome), bad skin, overweight, no confidence, and had the beginnings of a pronounced bald spot before we even graduated. I forgot to mention, he was also a little effeminate (It sounds like I'm ripping on Jews here, I'm not, I love them and learned as much about them in college as I did about my major-- I joke that I majored in Judaism). His stories were always too long with too much detail and always fabricated to the point where I couldn't bear to listen. It was like talking to a grandpa.

Bad things always seemed to happened to Alex. In fact, the first day I met him, he was telling me story after story (at that point they had yet to eat away at my soul) so I was enjoying him and immediately felt close enough to say, "Dude, your life is one long embarrassing story..." Keep in mind I'd only known him for an hour at that point-- but that is the thing about Alex, he is very warm. He makes you feel comfortable really quick and he is very loyal. He's actually a really good friend, just sort of exhausting.

Anyway, the story that I'm trying to tell happened a year ago, August of 2011 but there are some good tip-offs/hints leading up to that story...

For instance Alex was always saying gay stuff. We would just dismiss it as him trying to be funny or trying to fit in. You know how sometimes straight guys mess around and call each other gay or do/say gay stuff to be funny? Even something as simple as one dude telling another dude to "Blow me!"... when Alex did it, it always just seemed gay and creepy... not funny... he would always take it a little too far... for instance on my birthday one year he texted me:

 

"You don't want to know what I did to my pillow last night thinking of you for your birthday..."

Huh? I truly don't even know what that means... at all.

OK and get this... before going home to visit his family for Hanukkah one year he came to DC and stayed with me for a night. We came back late after drinking and I was going to have him stay on the couch but my stupid ass roommate had a cat. He said, "I really can't sleep out here, there's dander and cat hair all over the couch and I'm allergic." Alex would be allergic to cats.

Fair enough. I was laying on my bed and said, "OK, no problem you sleep here, I'll stay on the couch."

"No, No! That's fine you stay in your bed, really.... we can share!" 

I was like, "No Alex, we're not sleeping in the same bed!" So he darted off and came back with the couch cushions and the blankets I left him...

"OK, I'll just bunk up in here with you then...."

Fine, whatever. I was too tired to even care. I was practically asleep and not talking and the lights were off so it was natural to just go to bed but out of no where Alex says, "Are you ok?"

"Uhh... yeah..." Notice I didn't care enough to even ask why....

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, Alex. I'm sure."

"You seem stressed..."

"What? No. I'm sleeping, shut up."

"You're definitely stressed... do you need any sort of... release?"

Now in my head I was like... what the fuck does that mean? I said, "Huh? Release of what?"

Silence....

Then he said, "Cum..."

Despite being exhausted I couldn't help but burst out laughing because.... it's such a ridiculous thing to say... and he had to be kidding, right? Who would seriously use that line if they were trying to hook up with someone? He started laughing too... but I was definitely a little unnerved by the whole thing. We then rolled over and went to sleep.

I didn't think about it until the next day but... the cushions he used... were the same cushions that were "too covered in cat hair" to be slept on in the living room... but they were magically fine in my bedroom? A little suspicious if you ask me.... anyway... the real story....

So Alex was living in Irvine, CA getting his PhD in neuroscience (he's since "left" the program and moved to DC... I put "left" in quotes because that's what he tells people... in reality he failed out-- I told you, bad stuff just happens to him). Anyway, at the time he was still very much in the program but was doing an east coast tour for the summer. He stayed with me for a few days while visiting friends in DC. A bunch of people came over and went out to a bar down the street. We had a great night drinking and partying and once the bars closed a bunch of us headed back to my place where we blasted Bhangra music and danced for hours. I know... very weird.

Eventually everyone left except Alex and another good friend of mine named Lily. I don't remember much, but what I do remember is that Lily had fallen asleep in my bed between Alex and myself, meanwhile he and I stayed up chatting until we both crashed-- all three of us in my bed.

I was passed out on my back. I woke up in the middle of the night feeling a gentle hand brushing ever so slightly over my inner thigh. I was definitely still drunk and my eyes were still closed. The hand was so soft and so gentle, timidly trying to find its way up my gym short leg hole. I was starting to get hard.

The hand got frustrated trying to sort through the mess of my leg hole and started rubbing my balls gently from outside my shorts. Keep in mind when I went to sleep LILY was in the middle. I was 100% sure it was LILY but she and I didn't have this sort of relationship at all-- I wasn't thrilled about it, but whatever I let it happen. Not sure how long the timid, gentle caressing went on, probably just a minute or two before I opened my eyes ever so slightly and was shocked by what I saw.

It was Lily!

But she was across the room... on my couch... fast asleep.

"Holy shit!"... these gentle and timid hands I keep referring to belonged to Alex?!?

Reality set in and those gentle hands quickly turned into big, hairy, sweaty palms. I felt sick for letting him touch me like that. I felt violated... the memories of those sad, awkward Matt hookups came flooding back.

I should've rolled over and punched him in the jaw. I should've yelled for him to stop... but I am a coward. I did the most passive aggressive (not aggressive) thing ever. I just groaned a dramatic groan that probably didn't nearly convey the disgust I meant it to convey... and I rolled over fairly violently onto my stomach.

He didn't even back off immediately. He sort of gave me one last grotesque ass rub that made me die a little inside. 

Not sure how long I was laying there before I fell back to sleep. The following day things went on as normal. No confrontation, nothing. A few days later he left to go up to NY where his family lived but I couldn't get this thought out of my mind. I was angry that he would act that way because it's forceful and gross but at the same time I felt sad because well, it was Alex, who was a sad soul as it is--and to add the gay factor just seemed like, damn, if there's a God, he must've been a little hung over when he made this kid.

Real screen shot of DC craigslist search. I love the first ad.

So one might say Alex sensed something gay in me and that's why he felt like he could make such a bold pass at me. Either way, he doesn't know about me. I never told him. He has no evidence. And even if he suspects, it's really presumptuous and rude and insensitive to behave that way. What if I were super insecure and being driven crazy by this inner turmoil about being gay and him forcing that gay pass on me put me over the edge? Granted it's nothing like that, but point is-- it was wrong and gross. 

I was embarrassed for him... and for myself... so much so that I haven't told a soul and I don't plan to, it would just seem disrespectful to him and also make me look like a lame pushover... which in these situations I guess I am.

Anyway, Alex returned to California and things were fine between us---things just went back to normal with no real confrontation. THE KICKER: A few weeks later he called me and said, "Yo, so I have to tell you about this date I went on (he'd been dating girls online for months before). He kept using gender neutral pronouns until finally he said something along the lines of... yeah... he's an underwear model."

I was like, "Huh?"

Then he just said, "Yup."

I then cracked up... I laughed and laughed and laughed and in between the laughing I managed to ask, "Are you coming out to me right now?"

And he said, "Dammit dude, it will forever go down in history that when I came out to you-- you laughed in my face..."

I was like, "No dude, obviously that's cool, why would I care?... but really... I've known since I met you freshman year!"

*** It's really funny to be on the other side of a person's coming out... because you'd think I would know how to react properly. Nope! I reacted the exact opposite way I would want someone to react-- but this was Alex! He'd been shat on his whole life, a reaction like that was very warranted. 

So five months later he left his program in CA, moved to DC, and is currently going to Georgetown for graduate school. He's happy and out and proud and things are really looking good for him. At the end of the day, I must say, I am proud of him...but that being said, I do think he takes his gayhood too far sometimes. He has no idea (or if he does I don't care) that I know much more about the gay world than he thinks, so I may come across as more judgmental than I mean to, but I can't help but tell him he's gonna get himself into trouble going on dates every other day with different guys... meeting them on outlets like craigslist or Grinder. 

He's confided in me more than once, thinking that he'd contracted an STD, but at the end of the day it was jock itch or chafing, who knows. Either way, his stories, like always, contain way too many details but now they're not just boring... they're repulsive. When I tell him that he should be safe he responds saying, "Dude, don't worry I'm safe, I always just have them cum on my chest." And if you saw Alex, you would literally vomit at that visual. **I'm such a bad person, but come on!

I'm constantly biting my tongue when he talks about gay people. He is like wellllll....  we do this and we do that.... I'm like... no, just really gross ones do this and that.

Whatever. I shouldn't judge his gayness because he is out and I'm not... which to the world, means he is more comfortable and a better gay. But better by what standards? Does that really mean he is better off than I am? I mean, I've been in a gay relationship for 2 years solid. Things aren't perfect, I admit, but we have a very special relationship and that's a feat for anyone. I just don't talk about it. He's off hooking up with random dudes every week, going to gay bars, and worrying about getting chlamydia... but he's better off because he can step outside and say the words, "I'm gay". Alright, fine. Fair enough.

Who can judge? No one. So don't... and I won't either.