The Next Conversation

Grizz suggested the tone of the next conversation that I should have with My First Man Date in the last comments section. So I started this new post to say that I did actually have that conversation with him and found that he didn't want to rush me and understood perfectly that I needed time. At least, he said that. It didn't change the fact that he has had sex with a lot of men, and I'm not sure even he knows why. He says it hasn't all been satisfying. Well, he actually said most of it has not been satisfying and this was why he wasn't in a relationship currently. Yet, he still has sex.

So on the one hand, he wants me because I represent a chance at something he's never had -- which is not just virginity (I hope) -- but someone honest and open. And too, he said that I really turn him on.

Which has always sent me running from all my relationships. But I don't want to get into that.

As Grizz has also said, Look. At. Me. Doing this! Really dating again! Two dates now and the dude wants more. MUCH more!

However, the REAL next conversation happened last night, on the phone, with my Hero Friend. My Hero Friend should be a therapist. My Hero Friend said some things last night to me that really drove some points home.

1) One act does not have to define me. *I* get to define me.
2) I erroneously think that having one experience in this new dating world indicates that I'm ALWAYS going to have this same experience; ie, if I'm not turned on by him, I'll never be turned on by anyone.

Long time readers, doesn't that sound familiar? Have I not made those points in the past? Oh how soon I forget.

But today, after a little while, I remembered this guy;


Now you talk about being attracted to a man. Talk about no hesitation on my part. If THIS dude wanted me to kiss him ... omg OMG. I would snog his ever lovin' brains out.

There was something about this guy, besides that brawny powerful body of his. One, he was shy. He made eye contact with me, arched an eyebrow, grinned, but could never say 'Hey.' (Of course, neither could I). So there was a gentle masculinity about him. But that body. Oh that body. I am so gay for this guy.

And many, many others like this guy.

I'm saying all this, not to skeeve out you straight guys, but to re-affirm one fact that I overlooked.

I AM ATTRACTED TO A CERTAIN TYPE.

Duh?!

I can't change that. I could knock boots with anyone if I want to (and if THEY want to), but I'm just autistic, closeted, shame-based, repressed, stubborn, or fill-in-the-appropriate-adjective enough to never have done it with someone I wasn't attracted to.

So why am I going to start now? My First Man Date isn't my type. That will hurt him. But it will hurt him more if I go into a relationship that he really wants and I don't (Another kudoes to My Hero Friend). Especially when I'm so good at leaving relationships that I don't want to be in.

Take another look;

That's who I want. Or his twin bro.

Lets have it folks. What do you think? Am I copping out and running away behind a screen of words or does this make some small amount of sense?

2.5 Hours To Go Until The Next Date

Because I postponed last night to tonight. Work had to be done. But yeah, even though I expressed what I expressed, I'm going out with him again because he is such a nice guy. And because he DOESN'T deserve to be dumped because of how he speaks. And because he might make an incredible friend.

But I still don't feel how I felt last week. It was the opportunity, the adventure, the kind words, the newness of it all. Always heady stuff, that First Blush. And I think I know what my female date from Match.com--lo these many years ago now--what she must have felt. I just didn't do it for her. And my new friend just doesn't do it for me. I think that's the safest way to put it.

This whole week has been busy with work, but there has been no ... how do I put it ... no passion in it. Nothing to rev me up. The whole idea of sex has made me slightly queasy, in fact.

Hmmm. Reading this back to myself, I think I know what's going on here. Life Students, can you see it for yourselves? I'm going to leave a big gap in the narrative to give you guys time to guess before I say it.























Trauma.

Faced with the actually possibility of sex, now with a dude instead of a chick -- I'm getting the same reaction. Distance setting in. Separation. What do we call it in the business? Disassociation. I couldn't even think of the word until the third try.

Shiiiiiiit. I'm still fucking victimized by the molestation. (edit; changed it from "my molestation" to "the molestation". But I'm paying attention dammit to what I'm doing. I saw that.) 45-minus-innocence years later. Damn. I want to even say that I WANT to overcome this, but I'm so fucking disassociated from it that I don't feel like I even want to try. Only when the opportunity comes around am I perfectly happy doing nothing. Which, clearly is not "perfectly happy" -- but in all truth "rather terrifiedly running away from". But when there's no opportunity and I'm lonely -- oh then it's all "Poor me" and "Oh my lonely heart" and "When will I ever find a love of my own".

It's bullshit. I don't want anyone. I want to be alone. I want to be safe. I don't want to be touched. idontwanttobetouchedidontwanttobetouchedidontwanttobetouchedidontwanttobetouchedidontwanttobetouchedidontwanttobetouchedidontwanttobetouchedidontwanttobetouchedidontwanttobetouchedidontwanttobetouchedidontwanttobetouched

shit

I'm losing my fucking marbles here. No I'm not. I'm not losing them. I'm finding them. I'm finding what's really going on.

Shit. I need some real help.

I need some real help or I'm going to fucking die like this.

Fuck.

2 hours to go until the next date. Oh that poor guy.

Freedom FAIL

So last night I reunited with my old D&D group. Since I had been stepping over to Grim's place a few times I felt ready to make a whole re-entry, being that Grim was the one I had the problem with to begin with but now I had conquered that.

(To recap for those playing at home; Grim both pissed me off and I have a mad crush on him at the same time. I left the group because of both reasons. During my travels one day, I saw him driving and forgot all the anger and only missed him. Called him up and have since been to his house three times. Told him I was gay, and he accepted it with no fanfare nor calamitous disaster.)

So yesterday, on the day I chose to return to the group, Grim took the stairs out of the Hosting Girl's pool. This is a yearly ritual in which Grim takes off his shirt. This year I got a look. Several looks, to be honest.

Grim is so fine. omg is he so, so fine. He is the closest real-life equivalent to Jason Statham I have ever had the fortune of being friends with.

What's funny is, Hero Cop was also there and he's looking good too. He's maintained his weight loss and is as full of affection and enthusiasm as a puppy. He's eating right, working out, and is dying for appreciation. Which I give in copious amounts. So without a moment's hesitation, at the slightest encouragement, Hero Cop yanked his shirt off too (nowhere near the pool, I might add) to show me and the rest of us his progress. Clearly this was something the others hadn't allowed him to do during my absence. Well ... Hero Cop's stomach was flat. He is a full 30 lbs lighter and about 3 inches shorter than I am. BUT. There was no shape. No tone to him. He looked like a compressed man. Like remember those bodywraps people used to get? He looked freshly unwrapped. Things were held in, but I saw no muscle tone, except in his arms. Triceps, to be precise. I love my lil dude, but he's no Grim.

Anyway, I say all this as a preamble to what, exactly? That I didn't tell them all about my being teh gay. I just ... I couldn't. The same fear and pressure in my belly remained there through the night. Every time I considered it. Grim was able to comport himself as though he didn't know or care what I was, and that made it easier for me to do what I've always done. Pretend like I didn't know or care either.

And the moral of this story is, I'm aware that this is the way I'd rather live my life. This is my default position. This is what I've been doing for 4 decades and despite all my big talk, or maybe in the light of my kissless date with a kind and cute gay man, I know how safe it feels in this closet of mine and I know I want to stay in it.

I mean, I do know that. For the last couple of weeks, I've been wanting to change that but for the last couple of days, with increasing intensity, I have not wanted to. Very not.

Today it feels like Freedom FAIL. So much so that I want to cancel my date for Tuesday and pretend none of this ever happened.

And that's what's going on.

Obsessively Analytical. Still

The Date occurs in 2.5 hours. I'm inclined to buy something new, then head out. I should buy him a little gift too, huh? I'm nervous. I've pictured this going some-odd thousand different ways. I woke up early thinking about it. Songs come on the radio and I think about it.

While I'm not inclined to go all the way tonight, I do think that this is the beginning of the end of my hidden position. Dating a fella. I might as well kiss him. I might as well sleep with him. I might as well tell the world I'm gay.

I'm finding my boundaries. I don't HAVE to tell everything to everyone, do I. It's not a question. It remains a fact. A lot of people don't want to know about my life outside of the words that I pepper Twitter with. A lot of them have their own notions. A lot of them will think what they want. And a lot of them is not my concern.

My concern is me. I don't have to kiss him. I don't have to sleep with him. I have to be true to me and take my time with this. I'm not in a race. Another year of deliberation won't kill me after 45-minus-innocence years.

I just want this guy to be well. I wish him no harm at all. I am already as grateful to him as I am to all of you for coming into my bubble of shame and fear and helping me out of it.

Okay. I'll be back to fill out the rest. For those of you reading this late in the game, no suspense for you!

Oh, and if I never blog again, I ran afoul of life. Avenge me, Eliel. But it really couldn't have gone down any other way. And trust me, I was so unsure about this whole life of mine--on some level I'd be glad the struggle is over. So if this is my last night on Earth, I'm going gently into it. If I'm going to my murder, I'm not going to resist, beg, cry, or carry on at all. I'm resigned to it. Let's roll.

_______


Not dead.

Well, he's a HANDSOME little thing! He's like a miniature Tom Selleck, blond version! He's athletic, but not cut like deisel. And let me say this, he's softer than me. More gay, if that holds any meaning. Now, I know I've come to this life lusting after the straight dudes. I love guys who are guys. But my date looks like a guy-guy, even though he sounds a little gay.

God, this is so effed-up.

This date of mine was so sweet, and understanding, and patient (in otherwords, we were close enough to kiss several times, for several lengths of times, but I just couldn't yet. And I told him that. And he understood. Tonight anyway.) He's been gay for just shy of 40 years (oh, and by the way--dude is NOTHING like a 50-year old. NOTHING. He easily looks to be in his thirties.) and he's conmfortable with it. So enviably comfortable -- although he's tried women. Done women. But he knows what he likes.

He likes me.

Hugging him told my body that I'm gay. I'm waiting for the rest to follow. I'm waiting to kiss him and see what THAT does. I wanted to hug him for longer, but he most definitely wanted to kiss. I just didn't.

It's like the kiss would be the thrust of the ski poles that will tilt me over the precipice and plunge me into the ride down Mt Everest, and I've never been good with heights.

We'll go out again next week. I asked him if he would, please, even though I'm not kissing him yet, and he said yes. He really seemed to like me. He said a lot of nice things. He said I was genuine.

I'm going to hold his hand next time.

I think we'll kiss next time.

And Yeah, So. That Happened.

First phone conversation happened.
And now I have a date.
A real date.
A DATE date.
Wow.
Here we go ...

Sh*t Just Got Real

Actually real.

My nibble at FindFred turned into an interested tug.

To begin, his pictures were cleared by the Admins.

They were nice. Blond, curly-headed moustached guy with blonde eyebrows, and a smile that looks like he's up to something. He's thinnish, but has some shape to him. He takes pics of himself in the gym, at the beach, out on vacation. He's just hit his fifties but doesn't look a day over 45. His bare chest is fuzzy with coppery hair. No tattoos. And he's my height.

So I responded to his "Where in Manhattan do you live?" with a

"Why, have you seen me around? ;-)"

to which he has responded;

"No, but I'd like to."

Now. This means a few things.

1) He knows I'm a black dude.

2) He's attracted to me.

3) He wants to do stuff with me.

4) He will accept my interest in him.

And I'm sitting here thinking how much I want to do this. How my heart is speeded up right now thinking about how this could go down. I look again at his pictures and I'm thinking he looks better and better. Rugged-like. Right now, he looks like the best thing in the world.

He looks like hope. Like, yeah, he's someone who could like me the way I want to be liked. And he's someone I could like the way I've always wanted to.

I think of all the boyfriends of my girlfriends, and how I'd look at them and get this little heartspeed thing going. Wishing that I could see a little more of them--and then going to Gym and getting that wish fulfilled in the lockerroom, only to know that they'd beat the living shit out of me they knew how I felt. I think of how much I hated wanting what I wanted, and how locked-in I was. I remember how I'd quickly run away from it and try doing life the expected, "normal" way. Yeah. Ran all the way to church and hid under Jesus' skirt.

But 30 years later, here I still am. I traded the hem of Jesus' garment for the internet. I hide behind my side of the screen. I watch and I do not do.

And now I'm standing on the precipice of something real. Maybe. Something to change the way I live the rest of my life. Now I am entering into a flirtation with a man who actually knows I'm flirting, and is flirting back.

Stop.

I've never done this before. I've flirted with straight guys. I've been entertained by those who most likely think I'm playing bantery games with their masculinity. But I've never done this with someone ready to take it somewhere.
And I am really thrilled right now.

Breathe.

Breathe.

Yeah.

So.

Wow.

Okay.

Okay.

I'm going to talk to him. I'm going to find out more about him, I hope. I may just meet him. I might just kiss him. Perhaps I'll [censored] him. Or maybe I'll get to hug him.

You know what?

I would like to hug him.

Hug him for just being there and talking to me. For calling me handsome, and meaning it the way I want someone to mean it. The way I've always wanted a man to mean it.

Yeah, for right now. That's what I want. That would be just amazing.