When things are going just a little too well…

“He’s just crippled any relationship that I’ve had since.  I haven’t been able to really care about anybody.”

There it was.  That bitter adage “too good to be true” had finally prevailed.  The whole time I had been trying to figure out what, for all of this new boy’s good qualities, were his bad ones.  Everyone’s got them, after all, and there’s no sense in running from this fact.  His was simple and oh-so-common.  In a word:  Baggage.

For good qualities, he has many to speak of.  Great ones, actually.  He’s adventurous.  He’s playful, but knows how to be serious, which is more than I can say for most of the gays I know.  He likes clothes and shopping, but wants me to teach him to shoot (no, that’s not innuendo).  By the way, I’ve been planning a date at the shooting range, but I’ll save that for later.

Though as we lay naked in my bed, I finally realized the truth about his previous relationship to which he had alluded many times.  He wasn’t just hurt by that boy – it went much farther.  In fact, I wasn’t sure he had even let this other boy go.

We all have baggage.  Lord knows I do.  Between the erratic hookups and relationships gone awry, I’ve got boxes, trunks, and suitcases worth.  I should probably employ a bellboy, full time.  As I regard myself as relatively sane, I suppose it’s how we let our baggage weigh on us that determines what we’re cut out for as we surge ahead into the romantic unknown.

As I dropped him off later that evening, we had one of those playful “one more kiss before I get out of the car” moments.  Despite nearly hurling on my keyboard just now, I still find it kind of sweet.  I like this boy, and I think I’ll keep him around.

So the million dollar question is this:  Will I be caught suffocating under a suitcase full of bad decisions, or will I be caught comfortably naked, with him?

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Four Teeth Less the Wiser

I am happy to report that I have survived one of the most perilous surgical procedures a human being can go through – wisdom teeth removal.

From what I heard, the procedure is no problem at all (especially for the patient, who is usually unconscious). However, the recovery, I was told, is a bitch.  People reported experiences ranging from ” It was no big deal…” to “I attempted suicide multiple times.”

Based on my research, I knew they would knock me out with IV Valium, do the procedure, and then I would go home and munch on Percocet for a week.  Everything would be fine, albeit uncomfortable, as long as I followed the rules.  They were:

  • No eating solid foods for 3 days
  • No drinking from a straw
  • No sneezing with a closed mouth (“Everyone duck!”)
  • No spitting
  • Gargle with salt water 5 times a day
  • No carbonated liquids for 2 days

and last, but certainly not least…

  • No smoking (ahhh, shit!) for many, many, many days (4 days)

My 3-day recovery diet: apple juice, apple sauce, soup, pudding, and gelato. I'm that much closer to my goal weight!

Needless to say, I was not looking forward to the experience that lay before me.  Having said that, it really was not so bad.  When I got into the operating room the first thing they did was strap a mask to me that pumped some sort of gas into my nostrils which made me happy about pretty much everything.  (In case you were wondering, despite my best efforts, I was not able to purchase a to-go canister.)

Then came the Valium, which was amazing.  Good Lord, if that stuff had been more readily available the Cold War wouldn’t have happened.  I was about to have a person whom I had not met more than an hour before render me unconscious and slice my gums open and I was joking and giggling as if that chair was some sort of carnival ride.  I believe my last words to my surgeon before he administered the coup de’ grace injection of Valium was, “Have I told you that you’re super cute?”

Besides my attempt to light a cigarette just after waking from surgery, everything afterwards went fairly smoothly.  I followed the rules as best I could…I even almost made it the full four days without smoking!  I was very proud of myself (don’t judge me).   

On dating, feelings, and that nonsense…

So dating then… never has something I desire caused me this much confusion and frustration.  To be honest, I don’t usually take dating or feelings seriously…at all.  In my mind, it’s not worth it, and I have never really met a guy that caused me to think otherwise….until now (ah, crap!).

A while back I met a boy (we shall call him Jack) for dinner.  Jack was polite, interesting, playful in conversation, and he passed each and every one of my “this is a trick question to see if you are just trying to get me naked later” tests.

A moment of honesty:  Sometimes I don’t mind getting naked on the first date (and usually in those cases, the last date), but this time I was hoping it was more.  As it turns out, I was right.

Jack and I hung out a few more times and on our third date I went back to his place.  We sat on the couch and cuddled while watching TV.  This is when the good part happened (no, it’s not what you’re thinking – get your mind out of the gutter, pervert).

In his Netflix favorites was Top Gear.  For those who are not familiar, this is a British car show and the reason that, on several occasions, I have nearly packed up and moved to England.  We watched two full episodes, and not once did he have that painful look that most gays have when I subject them to car talk.  That’s when I had that cliché moment of clarity and thought, “Where have you been?”

"This one's a keeper!"

Weeks and weeks went by, and suddenly things seemed like they weren’t clicking like they were at the beginning.  A large amount of baggage from Jack’s last relationship (like several suitcases and a trunk) and my sometimes annoyingly playful nature seemed to be taking its toll, so we ended it.  It was a very civil and clean-cut “we are just friends now” conversation.  Alas, it can never be that simple, can it?

Weeks later, I am still bothered by this notion that I let things go too easily.  I have dated (and “dated”) other people in the last few weeks, to no avail.  So I’m left with a decision:  I can let it go, and possibly always regret doing so, or I can take a leap of faith and ask him for another go.

I suppose this type of thing has been happening since the first young cave man decided to stop screwing every cave chick he could find and settle down.  I seem to be stuck in this mindset that I am in completely uncharted waters, though.  As I deal with most uncertainty in life, I suppose I’ll say to myself “Here goes nothing…” and see what happens.

Wish me luck!

Meeting New People (…sort of) – GRINDR

Let me start by saying that if you don’t know what the grindr app is, do yourself a favor and google it.

For me this app is just a cure for boredom.  If I’ve got it open on my phone, chances are that I’m waiting in line at the grocery store.  I don’t, and wouldn’t expect anyone to take this app seriously (unless, of course, random sex is serious business for you, in which case you better log off wordpress and get cracking).  With profile names like “iBottom” and “Married Dad” it’s not hard to see why.

A little snippet of entertainment from a friend. I think Married Dad may have touched a nerve.

I have found that most of the profiles on grindr are or are a mixture of the following:

The Professional

This is the boy who is here to hook up, and he’s got it down to a science.  This is not his first rodeo, and it certainly won’t be his last.  Following a carefully perfected formula, he can crank em out at a pace that would make Gene Simmons look virtuous.  When two Professionals encounter each other, it’s a good chance there will be action in the time it takes to say “Ew.”

The Ninja

If you’ve ever received a message from someone who stated clearly on their profile that they were “NOT HERE TO HOOK UP” and then opened the message to find a picture of their gentleman’s area, you’ve been a victim of The Ninja.

The Mystery Torso

Similar to The Professional, the mystery torso often has one of two reasons for hiding his face.  He either a) has the good sense to keep from broadcasting his promiscuity to the world, or b) it’s ugly.  I think straight boys call that second one a “butter face.”

In this case mystery is a bad thing.

The Relentless

This is the one that does not know when to quit.  For whatever reason, this guy feels the need to carpet bomb grindr profiles in the hopes that someone will be horny or desperate enough to strike up a “conversation.”  How can you tell if you might be acting a bit like The Relentless?  If you were wondering, you probably are.

If I don't respond the first five times, you probably are not going to have much luck on the sixth.

I have made this bad habit of taking screenshots on grindr and sending them to people.  Perhaps I’ll start posting some on here.  That reminds me, I’ve got something really urgent to take care of…