Dear Guy #48,
Are you still alive?
I can’t find you on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram or even Myspace. If you died I would never know.
Our lives only intersected once. It was on September 18th, 2009, my last night in Toronto.
Our date was heavily anticipated. In the weeks leading up to it we had exchanged messages of ever increasing length and depth. Often Guys on Craigslist speak in abbreviations (e.g. m4m, vers/top, no ff, 33, 6in cut, 6’1’, 160lbs, in2 bdsm, no ws), but the two of us had swapped entire autobiographies. We had even talked over the phone for hours.
Our actual date was one of the best I ever had.
We met up in Downtown Toronto and simply made the city our home for the night. We sat at the harbor front for a long time, staring out over Lake Ontario. We talked. I can’t remember what we talked about exactly. All I do remember is that we talked a lot. It was immensely liberating to have found someone I didn’t have to explain my thoughts to.
At one point we found out we both liked the Pet Shop Boys. It was just one of the many places where we ‘found’ each other.
I knew you were someone I could be with. In fact, I felt very much at home in your presence. It wasn’t the kind of bond I ever expected to find with a Guy.
Two and a half years before our date, I had left my home. Since then I had grown from being a shy bicurious recluse to a sexually confident predator in a city full of prey. Now I had finally found a sense of home the night before I had to fly back to it.
Our date ended on the backseat of a cab. I don’t know about you, but to me it was the best cab ride ever. We kept our clothes on, but apart from that the cab driver had access to free porn whenever he looked in his rearview mirror. We didn’t care.
The plus side of riding a cab at night is that cab drivers are probably used to people making out on their backseats. The downside is that cabs drive fast when there’s no traffic to make the moment linger.
Our ten minute taxi adventure would be the only occasion we ever consumed our feelings for each other. We consumed them like rabbits, but even animals can only go so far inside a taxi cab before they get arrested. In that sense our relationship got stuck in foreplay. Kiss me hard before you go…
Things didn’t end after we said goodbye. The lengthy emails and phone calls continued for a while.
Of course, distance is often a deciding factor in the battle between longing and ease. I would go on to meet other Guys, closer to home.
…whatever home was the first few months after our date. You made me feel at home in the backseat of a taxi.
Had I stayed in Toronto we probably would have gotten to know each other much better and more intimately. Instead our relationship slowly dissolved like smoke after an explosion.
In what would become your last email to me you told me you were suffering from severe depression. It was almost a year after our date. Depression had always been one of your main adversaries.
I realize it sounds weird, but I sincerely hope you didn’t kill yourself. Whenever I think of you, that’s my first thought: Hopefully Guy #48 is still alive.
One of the things I liked about you was that you didn’t let yourself get caught up in social media as we’ve come to know it.
It also means I have no way of knowing how bad your depression really was. We had a very strong human connection, but not a digital one.
I hope you managed to overcome the sadness.
Kiss me hard before you go
I just wanted you to know
That baby, you’re the best
LENGTH: 6 hours (not counting three weeks of anticipatory emails and phone calls)
SEX SCORE (0 = The obligatory economy class baby that cries throughout long flights <–> 10 = The best sex ever): 9