Guy #96 – A long distance relationship that was absolutely fabulous until it absolutely wasn’t…

Guy #96 lived in Europe. I lived in South America. We had met on the internet. The two of us had a fantastic relationship together. It lasted 1 ½ years.

The first time we saw each other in real life was after 1 ½ years.

We would send lengthy emails back and forth, call each other and talk on Skype for hours, often a few times a week. And of course we also used our webcam for other stuff that could last hours.

At first I was reluctant to open myself up to Guy #96, there being an ocean between us and all. However it quickly became apparent Guy #96 was completely into me, falling for me even. That widened my comfort zone and allowed me to fall for him as well.

Of course it sucked we could never get to the physical part of our relationship, but we both agreed things were fun as they were with a webcam and that neither of us should do anything rash like buying a plane ticket.

I think I realized I was in love around the time I started chatting with him during work meetings. It was great. It seemed like our relationship could only go up. After all, we still had to look forward to meeting each other someday.

We did go up for a long time, until we peaked. We peaked before we ever met each other. There’s only so many things a webcam has to offer.
The thing with falling in love is that we often fall in love with an idea. Fueled by the absence of any physical intimacy, Guy #96 embodied the idea of having an actual loving relationship with someone, someone to maybe grow old with, someone who could be family. The longer our long distance relationship lasted, the more that idea wired itself into my brain. My hormones took care of the rest.

After about a year Guy #96 started acting distant. By that time I knew him well enough to know he wasn’t telling me everything that was on his mind. Slowly I came to learn he had a bit of an avoidant personality.

Instead of hearing about his feelings, pictures of Guy #96 with another Guy started popping up like mushroom clouds on his Facebook wall. Pictures of them cooking together, them sitting in a grassy field together, them celebrating Halloween together. All things people can do together as friends. I clung to the hope Guy #96 had found himself a very good platonic non-sexual unerotic friend which he somehow never talked about.
I started getting officially worried when Guy #96’s mother started liking their friend’s comments: A family was being formed, and I wasn’t part of it.


When I visited the Facebook profile of Guy #96’s friend I couldn’t believe my eyes: This Guy was most definitely less attractive than I was. Being a narcissist I accepted good looking competition as a part of life, but average looking competition was a bigger paradox than a Jew at a Nazi rally.

In a desperate attempt to sell myself on my looks I started taking selfies. A lot of them. I would spend hours setting the lighting and contrast buttons just right. And then I would post them on Facebook. I knew the whole world was witness to my vanity, but I was okay with it as long as Guy #96 got to see me and my pretty blue filtered eyes. Every time he liked one of my Facebook photos was a good day for me.

Then came the moment he finally opened up about seeing another Guy. By this time we didn’t chat as often as we used to. Every night he wasn’t online was a bad day for me, because I knew it could mean he was doing stuff offline with his boyfriend, stuff that wasn’t restricted to a webcam. Those were nights I used my webcam to make selfies.

Love can be a bit of a black hole. It sucks you in and before you know it your whole life revolves around one person. I resented Facebook for facilitating my obsession, but I couldn’t help myself: If I couldn’t be part of Guy #96’s life, at the very least I had to be a sad outside observer.

Eventually, I couldn’t take it anymore. I took a month off from work, bought a plane ticket and went to see Guy #96. After 1 ½ years of Skyping our asses off we would finally meet, for real.
Although Guy#96 was now steadily dating his boyfriend, he would often tell me he had doubts about his relationship. I believed him. After all, wasn’t I the better looking option?

People always look different in real life, even if you’ve seen each other a thousand times on a webcam. He made a remark about my lower teeth not lining out as nicely as my upper ones and I mentioned his head was bigger than it looked on screen. Other than that, the two of us got along like we had on Skype.

Guy #96 took me to his place on our first date. Standing mere feet away from his bed I initiated our first kiss. It wasn’t at all like the kiss I had imagined. Instead of feeling relief I could only think about Guy #96’s boyfriend and the fact he had kissed him a lot more than I ever had.
To his credit Guy #96 didn’t cheat on his boyfriend as much as I wanted him to. While we used his bed to dry hump the living daylights out of each other, any hand that attempted to remove clothes, clothes that had come off so easily on our respective webcams, was pushed back the way it came.

For 1 ½ years I had waited to be with Guy #96. Given how much he had wanted me on Skype I figured our hormones would be enough to make him forget about his relationship with a Guy whose Facebook pictures were not nearly as photoshopped as mine.

Reality can be your biggest enemy when you’re in love. What seemed sound, reasonable and even logical in my mind was constantly challenged by it. I did my best to be the smartest, cutest, funniest and all round bestcatchiest me I could be. I knew Guy #96 was into me. He even told me he didn’t know whether to choose me or his other half.

I couldn’t fathom the idea I was fighting a losing battle. After all, wasn’t I obviously the bestcatchiest one on my Facebook page? I had over 100 meticulously crafted selfies to prove it!


Guy #96 even told me he “kind of wanted to get out of his relationship”. It was around that time I started seeing the pattern:

Whenever I came close he would push me away. Whenever I threatened to leave him and his webcam he would seduce me back in. Guy #96 didn’t want me. He wanted the option of having me. His relationship with his boyfriend played out in front of their friends and families. Ours was a dirty secret. It’s not that Guy #96 didn’t like me and my selfies. He just couldn’t bring himself to inform the rest of the world of it. I believe he feared shame more than hurt.

The month I took off from work was intended to be a catharsis. Instead I flew back to South America feeling drained, sad, frustrated and more in love than ever.

Our ‘relationship’ continued as it had, through the safety of a webcam, but the only thing that grew at this point was the hurt.

So I made a bit of rash decision. I moved back to my home country to resolve our issues once and for all. I actually dropped my well paying job, my life and my more than decent sex life and moved 4000 miles to be with someone who liked me better on a laptop.

Of course relationships only work out when you love yourself, when you’re able to live your own life and when your wellbeing isn’t completely dependent on someone else’s Facebook updates. It’s just ridiculously easy to confuse dependency with love when you’re in love, even more so when you’re a narcissist.

Our relationship had consisted of what would have amounted to thousands of pages of chats, emails and texts, countless hours of webcam sessions but less than a handful of unrewarding dates that failed to live up to even the least of my expectations.
The reason I moved back was because I wanted Guy #96 to make a choice. The distance between us had always been the go to-argument for staying with his boyfriend. Now I had gotten rid of that distance, hoping to even the playing field that way.
The two of us saw each other only once after I moved back. We strolled through the city, smoked a cigarette here and there and talked about him having to make a choice. He still couldn’t.

It was painful, but I realized the only way Guy #96 would ever break up with his boyfriend was if his boyfriend did it for him. Guy #96 never made it clear what he wanted. What he wanted was someone else to want it on his behalf.


On our last night together Guy #96 told me he had never told his boyfriend about me. It became clear I would never escape the clutches of my webcam. So after surrendering my entire life to the non-existing wishes of Guy #96 I finally made a sensible decision. I broke up with him.

The two of us said goodbye on the same train station we had first met each other. I told him we would not keep in touch online. It was definitely awful saying goodbye to someone I so much wanted to be with but would never see or hear from again. I hugged him pretty fiercely when my train was about to leave. Knowing me I probably cried as well. I really wanted our final goodbye to be as worthy and beautiful as I imagined the two of us could have been. Sadly, our Kodak moment got interrupted by Guy #96’s cell phone: His boyfriend called. The last I saw of Guy #96 was him walking away from me, answering his phone. It was one final blow, telling me I wasn’t allowed to be part of Guy #96’s life.

I went off Facebook for about half a year. One might consider that my rehab.

It was exhausting telling people how happy I was living back in my home country. Few things suck the life out of you like smiling when all you really want is to cry your guts out. For a long time the mere thought of Guy #96 would turn my stomach around, make me angry, sad and of course ashamed of all my desperate selfies.

The thing with love is that the more you realize why something didn’t work out, the happier you are it didn’t. As time passes you realize reality can be a bitch, but it’s never the enemy.

About a year after our not so perfect goodbye I looked up Guy #96 on Facebook once more. It was a test to see if it would still get to me. Fortunately, I found myself feeling happy for Guy #96 when I learned he and his boyfriend were moving in together.
The very next day my laptop crashed. Every picture of Guy #96, every conversation…all of it got deleted from existence. All the proof of our relationship has since been reduced to the memory of a dry hump that ended in tears.

A few days ago I checked out Guy #96’s wall again. It would seem he and his boyfriend have their five year anniversary coming up. Reality knows Guy #96 and me never would have lasted that long.

I guess not making a choice was the right one for him.




Relationship summary:

LENGTH: 1 ½ years
FORMAT: Long distance
SEX SCORE WITH WEBCAM (0 = Abstinence pledges <–> 10 = The best sex ever): 8.5
SEX SCORE WITHOUT WEBCAM (0 = The concept of Facebook likes <–> 10 = The best sex ever): 6.5

Guy #94 – The sad one…

There was a time when Facebook was my main source of dates.

The country I lived in was a small, almost anonymous strip of land hidden inside South America. The gay scene was small, being gay often considered smaller. It had no Grindr, no Craigslist, for there was no anonymity to speak of.

Except for Facebook, where you can date in plain sight.

For reasons still not entirely known, the human race went through a phase where it was considered completely normal to invite total strangers to be your friend. It doesn’t get much sadder than that.

Still, I wasn’t complaining. Every few days I would get a friend request from a Guy who I had never seen or heard of. It always meant that friend was into me. All of them were closet cases. Living life inside a closet is depressing. Sometimes this depression echoes into sex, as was the case with Guy #94.

Guy #94 was a bit like the donkey Eeyore, Winnie the Pooh’s friend.

He had this radiating glow of melancholy resting on his shoulders. That surprised me at first, because closetwise he could have done worse. He even had a boyfriend (who would hit me up on Facebook a few days later and would go on to become Guy #95).

Maybe it wasn’t the closet that had sucked the life out of Guy #94. Perhaps he was simply depressed.
Either way, it wasn’t long before Pooh started having enough of this moodkill. I guess it’s unreasonable to ask depressed people to leave their mood outside when they step into my car on a first and most likely only date, but still, at least during sex act as if you’re enjoying yourself! You don’t even have to smile. Just moan a little.

Guy #94 did nothing but radiate sadness throughout our date. He complimented my looks and even the stuff I did to his body, but with the same reluctance the Catholic Church credited Galileo. I wasn’t exactly feeling the love. In fact, all I felt was Guy #94 feeling sorry for himself.

I wondered why this Guy had taken the effort to befriend me on Facebook. It became clear a few days later, when his boyfriend did the same.


Guy #94 wasn’t the slutty type. His boyfriend was. Guy #94 wasn’t a date. He was a scout, sent by his boyfriend to explore me. The only reason Guy #94 went on a date with me was to prep me for his better half. His sadness probably stemmed from the fact he didn’t want an open relationship. He settled for one, knowing closet cases in banana republics were lucky to find any relationship at all.

My guess is Guy #94 didn’t resent me. He resented his boyfriend for making him do me, for bearing the brunt of his boyfriend’s shyness. Guy #94 probably didn’t like the fact his boyfriend would also end up in my bed a few days later.

God knows what Guy #94 and #95 were thinking when they started an open relationship inside a closet.



Relationship summary:

LENGTH: 2 hours
FORMAT: Sad sex date
SEX SCORE (0 = Vinegar on fries <–> 10 = The best sex ever): 3.5

Guy #13 – The tourist…





A few days ago Guy #13 sent me a message on Facebook, asking me how I was doing.

Guy #13 is a nice memory. We once spent a wonderful weekend in his hotel room. He was the first guy I was ever romantic with, cuddly even. Even though I somehow still hadn’t let go of the idea that I was merely a bicurious straight guy that was only experimenting, I had already experimented pretty much everything there was to experiment.

The only part of gay sex I hadn’t touched yet was the love part.

Guy #13 was a tourist. The expiry date of our relationship was written on his visa. Plus he stayed in a hotel, meaning I could experiment with love in style.
Over the years I’ve come to view hotels as places where you can go to have sex. Sex with amenities can be pretty awesome.
As was the case with Guy #13. I was on vacation as much as he was.

Because Guy #13 had a date with customs Sunday evening, I carefully allowed myself to let this fling be more than something purely physical. I permitted Guy #13 to take pictures of us on his balcony, posing as two people who are in love. I wasn’t entirely comfortable with it, but I allowed it for the sake of the experiment.

Guy #13 was an incredibly sweet, caring and sensitive person. I also remember him as being somewhat depressed. He spent a lot of time lamenting the fact we had so little time together, almost as if we had met on board the Titanic.

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Love was clearly an experience I needed to ease into, much like every other aspect of gay sex had been.

As we sat through our last supper together, Guy #13 once again became a bit sappy. I appreciated the sense of intimacy it created, so I went along with it. Guy #13 suggested the song playing in the background could be ‘our song’. I must have said it was an awesome idea.
No, I don’t have a clue what our song was. It must have slipped my mind before I had finished my meal.

I do remember I was having the best fried chicken I ever had.

After Guy #13 flew back to his home island, we stayed in touch for a short while. I acknowledged him for making me feel something I had never felt with someone before. But I never imagined him being more than an acknowledgement. I always had the feeling he felt bad about the way I treated him.

I do feel a bit guilty toward Guy #13. I let him pay for the chicken, promising I’d get the next one.

Guess I owe him.

I replied to his Facebook inquiry, saying I am doing fine and asking him the same question in return. He told me he doesn’t live on an island anymore.



Relationship summary:

LENGTH (excluding Facebook friendship): A few weeks
FORMAT: One-time romantic weekend, followed by email exchange that quickly developed into Facebook friendship that apparently lasts till this day
SEX SCORE: (0 = Colonel Sanders in a jockstrap <–> 10 = the best sex ever): 8,2
HONORABLE MENTION: Popeyes Fried Chicken, once you get past the service



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