Friendship

Guy #213 – Something something friendship something something double penetration…

I’m not good at making friends.

It’s because I don’t really like people, unless it’s people I like.

But to get to know people I like, I have to open myself up to all sorts of people. And on average I’m ambivalent to most people I open up to. As such, meeting people is a bit like tuning into LOST and hoping it won’t be another Jack-episode: a game of Russian roulette where disappointment hits you in the head when you kind of already expect it.

I first met Guy #213 in this gay sauna this one night, but nothing sexual materialized between the two of us.

He was a friend of a friend and also my ride home.

I didn’t think much of Guy #213 at first, nor did I think of having sex with him. He was just someone with a car at a time when I was in need of someone like that.

However, he was a friend of a friend. If you hang out with a friend, friends of your friends have a way of slipping into your social life.

Initially I felt uneasy, as I so often do with people I don’t know.

After all, I have nothing in common with people I don’t know, unless it’s people I know, but to find out if I have something in common with someone I don’t know, I have to get to know that person.

An awful lot of work.

But everyone who was already a friend of Guy #213 always spoke highly of him. So I did the most sensible and pragmatic thing: I decided to not let my innate disdain for strangers be a factor, and instead started to treat Guy #213 like a friend.

Sure enough, if you treat people like a friend, that’s what they become.

Who would’ve thought?

As is often the case among gay Guys who are just friends, sex is a pleasure shared as one would a pizza.

Especially if it’s the kind of friends you go to orgies with. The format of the relationship itself might not be sexual, but when you see someone having sex, you become part of their sex life. It’s arguably the single biggest blessing and curse of the gay scene.

About a year after first meeting Guy #213, he joined me and a friend of mine on a trip to a gay sauna, with the intention of hitting on other Guys and not each other. But as friends who go to gay saunas so often do, they stick together.

And so it happened me and Guy #213 ended up in a whirlpool together. Having shared orgy culture already, we had enough in common for touching each other in a whirlpool to be casual if nothing else. The blowjob that followed felt equally mundane.

Sure I was very much aware of the fact I was sexualizing a relationship with a friend whom I never had sex with before, but what’s wrong with that: getting a blowjob is hardly uncomfortable.

As time passed, Guy #213 and I came to see more and more of each other. We’d have fun at extravagant gay parties, but were equally in our comfort zone checking out cute Guys at the gym, or just having dinner together and talking about our jobs.

Stuff that friends do.

I’m not good at making friends. I’m fine meeting people in places where everybody is naked, but once the clothes come on I’m awkward, fairly judgmental, intolerant and not at all inclined to keep in touch with people I’ve had sex with.

Guy #213 proved to be an exception, and to date he’s been one of nicest people I ever met in a secluded, sexually laden setting and one of the few who went on to see me with my clothes on without it being weird.

The gay scene can be brutal and harsh, sexual freedom as liberating as it is unforgiving.
Having a friend who joins you at orgies is nice but lacking.
Having a friend who you have dinner with is lacking but nice.
Having a friend who does both is special to someone who, like me, sucks at making friends.

Guy #213 has become someone who I’d invite to my birthday and introduce to my family, where we would lie about how we met to aunts and uncles, and proudly refer nieces and nephews to this blog.

Oh, and then there was that time he unexpectedly double penetrated me during a threesome with Guy #262, the first and to date only time I’ve been on the receiving end of so much friendship.

I’m not good at making friends, but I’d like to think I’m good with the ones I have.

Guy #208 and #209 – The twins…

Okay, so Guy #208 and #209 weren’t really twins. They were a couple.

They did however look very similar to me: similar mannerisms, similar bodies, similar height and stats, similar names and whenever I saw them I saw them together. I’ve come to think of them as twins because I can never remember which one is which.

It’s because I’m bad with names, and often also with people. So attaching the right names to the right people is a reluctant and challenging exercise for me.

When I meet someone in a setting where gay sex is the agreed upon end goal, I tend to focus on the sex part. Sure I can carry a conversation and even laugh at the appropriate moments, but when push comes to shove I have little sincere interest in people when they cross paths with me.

This may seem harsh.
And it is.
And I wasn’t always like that.
But attend enough orgies and eventually even the people you’re intimate with become replaceable like toothpicks.

I used to try to connect with people I met at orgies outside of orgies, but in most cases the friendship dried up when my libido did. Sober me is simply not a social person. Forging friendships is not my forte.

Although there was a certain sense of mutual attraction, I don’t think there was much sexual chemistry between me and Guy #208 and #209. But sometimes you find yourself at a party with naked people and before you know it you’re sharing a bathtub with the twins, where casual conversation eventually becomes a few blowjobs.

Whether my oral efforts were well received I will never know. I was fairly sleep deprived and as such coasted all the way to third base on autopilot. Consequently, I never made a real effort to remember which name belonged to which twin. There were just too many similarities between them.

The thing is I quite regularly run into them, at orgies, in clubs or even at everyday gay gatherings where the clothes don’t come off. Slowly they’re becoming part of my social life.

It’s great that I’m making friends.

It’d be nice to know their names though.

And the longer I postpone asking for it, the more awkward it will be.

I don’t like confrontation or communication, so what little communication I can’t avoid I use to avoid confrontation. Whenever I see the twins I treat them like any of my gay scene acquaintances, always making sure the conversation does not require me to know their names.

Basically, it’s hanging out with Bert and Ernie, without knowing who’s who. The only thing you do know is you played with one of their rubber duckies in a bathtub this one time.

That’s not a metaphor for anything, by the way. There really was a rubber duck in that tub for some reason.

Orgies are weird.

Of course I never ask either one who’s Bert and who’s Ernie. The question would make me look irreparably stupid. And the only thing I dislike more than communication or confrontation is making an ass of myself.

***

I started this post about a week ago. Incidentally I ran into the twins again last weekend. Seeing as I was writing a post about me not being a social human being I figured I’d make the effort for a change. The twins are genuinely nice Guys and there’s no reason for me not to validate that except for being an ass.

So I summoned the courage and bluntly asked who was who. They simply told me and didn’t seem offended.

Sadly though I was high last weekend. I remember them telling me their names. I just forgot which name goes where.

I’m the worst.

Guy #204 – Hottest consent ever…

The world is a beautiful place, but that doesn’t mean everybody you meet at an orgy is your type.

I first met Guy #204 in the company of Guys #200, #201, #202 and #203.

To me Guy #204 was the odd one out. He was the only one older than me and as such not quite my type: he wasn’t a twink, he had chest hair and he wasn’t a twink.

Yet on all objective accounts Guy #204 had the looks of a pornstar successful enough to make a living out of it. He was a gay Guy of the overtly manly type, sensitive and considerate, but with enough testosterone to perform magic tricks like changing the oil in a car, plastering a wall, doing some plumbing, or any of the other things I’ve never seen a twink do.

When I first laid eyes on Guy #204 I realized two things: this man is very handsome and it’s a pity he’s not my type.

Seeing as orgies are by no means all-you-must-eat buffets, I appreciated Guy #204 for the company he was, not at all expecting him to become Guy #204.

But when Guy #204 and I started talking, I did intuitively like him and his manliness. I’d like to consider myself manly in the presence of gay people, but part of me would bend over for a hundred car mechanics before I’d even think of attempting an oil change myself. Being in the presence of someone ostensibly manlier than me was refreshing if nothing else.

When it became apparent Guy #204 was into me I was mostly flattered, and I allowed him to come on to me a little. We were at an orgy after all.

It wasn’t my intention to go all the way with Guy #204, but it seemed that if I wanted him to stop, I would have to make him.

And I didn’t really want to make him.

Not because he wasn’t my type or because I suck at rejecting people, but because I simply liked him too much to reject. And I really liked how much I was liked by him.

Before long I was lying on my back on a couch with Guy #204 hovering over me, gently but steadily making me push my boundaries bit by bit.

“You’re not really my type,” I giggled, and I immediately regretted the possibility of having hurt Guy #204’s feelings, so I lapsed into a clumsy monologue along the lines of I mean, I can tell you’re very handsome, but I’m more into twinks and such, but if I were into manly men of the car mechanic type you’d be heaven to me.

Guy #204 calmly absorbed my words, clearly understanding them while at the same time undeterred in his ways. It was hot to see him strike a delicate balance between being assertive, keeping his distance and seducing me.
“Do you mind what I’m doing right now?” Guy #204 asked while showing no signs of stopping.
“No, not at all,” I said, enjoying the fact someone took the effort to play me and actually be good at it.
“I’m just going to continue doing what I’m doing, until you tell me to stop,” Guy #204 said.
“Okay,” I smiled, swayed and turned on by how smoothly he worked consent into foreplay.

As someone who mostly does younger Guys I’m accustomed to being the one in need of consent. But because I’m shy like a flat earth believer on board the ISS, my main tactic for getting consent is playing hard to get and waiting for even shier people to come onto me, a strategy that ends in failure most of the time, because gravity simply doesn’t work like that.

To have someone like Guy #204 make the effort to conquer my consent gave me a sense of relief I seldom get during foreplay and, as a result, during the sex itself as well. It literally gravitated me toward him.

Guy #204 and I didn’t go all the way on our first meet-up. I enjoyed his sexuality and the personality behind it, but did want to give myself some time to embrace his physicality.

I embraced it in multiple positions about a month later. And on several occasions after that.

Guy #142 – The awkwardness of dating people the normal way…

Old fashioned as it may seem, sometimes you meet people you will have sex with on normal, everyday gatherings such as birthday parties.

Guy #142 and I met one night and ended up eating cake together, which somehow evolved into us exchanging phone numbers.

A few weeks later I found myself having sex with him on his kitchen floor.

The weird thing is, when you meet someone the normal way and then have sex with him, it’s almost as if it means something. If you prefer someone from real life over a stranger from Grindr, you’re inclined to take the other person seriously.

Though neither one of us felt any obligation, we did think of our little dating experiment in terms of the word relationship.

At least, I may have thought that’s what people do with people you meet the normal way, I’m not sure. In fact, I was never quite sure whether we were committing, casual or somehow both.

Guy #142 wasn’t really my kind of attractive. It meant that if I wanted to have something meaningful with him, I would have to make an effort. Had I met him through Grindr I would have dismissed him as just another sex date. Yet our sexual chemistry had evolved all by itself, the way nature intended it. It felt off dismissing something like that.

The two of us could have pleasant conversations, he made the best cocktails and he was someone I could cuddle up with at a time when I was in need of that. Yet the more I drank of his cocktails, the more I came to realize I was in no way willing to make the effort to truly open up to him.

Guy #142 became more distant as time progressed. I suppose he had taken note of how spoiled I can be toward people I don’t consider underwear models.

For a while after we dated Guy #142 wasn’t just my ex but also my hairdresser, which meant we kept seeing each other the normal way, restricting ourselves to normal stuff.

I always enjoyed it when Guy #142 cut my hair. It was intensely relaxing, even more so because he was the kind of hairdresser who explicitly preferred not to talk while he was working, meaning I got a soothing and conversationless head massage that turned me on each time I got one.

And each time Guy #142 cut my hair I would wonder if maybe the thought of having sex with me occurred to him as he was busy making me look prettier. To me, the arousal came as naturally as it had on his kitchen floor. I figured a barber having sex in his shop would make a good blog story one day, but to his credit Guy #142 stayed professional every time. I very much doubt his mind was on sex as much as it was on mine. I guess Guy #142 was way more accustomed to all the normal going on.

The reason he probably didn’t think of having sex with me might very well be that I was the kind of person unable to not think of it. Plus he viewed his job as a craft, an art form of sorts, not the kind of thing one sets the normal aside for.

Still, considering a hairdresser who talks is like a psychiatrist that touches you, it was awesome getting the silent treatment.

Relationship summary:

LENGTH: ± 1 year
FORMAT: Few weeks of dating followed by four or five haircuts
SEX SCORE (0 = A hairdresser that talks <–> 10 = The best sex ever): 8

Guy #123 – The reason I’m on Grindr…

These days it says the following on my Grindr profile:

I will have sex with you if you can tell me what happened ‘before’ the Big Bang.

It’s an easy promise. Not even Stephen Hawking knows the answer, but it’s a nice invitation for Guys to get intellectual with me. I still judge people by their selfies, but I ache to be turned on by their brains.

Although the first I ever saw of Guy #123 was a picture of him in a swimsuit, he wasn’t the kind of underwear model I had come online for. Still, we somehow became engaged in an exciting conversation.

It happens sometimes. You start talking to someone, an actual dialogue erupts and it’s just nice to let it run its course. Sometimes the conversation dissolves almost the moment it started and sometimes you go from discussing youth traumas to cosmic inflation to Bach to trashing the Lord of the Rings-franchise to being invited over for dinner at his place.

Despite the absence of any sexual chemistry I found Guy #123 interesting enough to get to know in person. I had made it clear I had no sexual interest in him, which he was totally fine with.

Yet we soon ended up doing more than just having dinner and talking about each other’s lives. We’d spend entire nights watching The Lord of the Rings, after which Guy #123 admitted it indeed made no sense Frodo wouldn’t use those eagles from the get go. Or we’d lie on a couch and listen to music together. It’s difficult not to establish connection when you feel someone’s heartbeat to the tune of Beethoven’s 5^th Piano Concerto.

Our fourth meet-up as friends was a bit of a goodbye. I was to go abroad for a while and wasn’t sure when I would be seeing Guy #123 again. He had become a dear friend I would miss.
So what started off as an innocent backrub quickly turned me on somehow, and since I was the one doing the rubbing I considered it an excellent opportunity to show some initiative. The kissing soon followed. The bed is where things ended.

It was unexpectedly great to have sex with Guy #123. I had reached a point where I could no longer relate to my previous self, who had rejected him over a photo.

Afterward, Guy #123 told me he he’d always known we would end up having sex at some point. The only thing he had to do to make it happen was not tell me. His brain had figured that out.

I’m not on Grindr to find sex. I’m not on there to find relationships. I’m certainly not on there to forge anything platonic. I’m on Grindr to find Guys like Guy #123, Guys who can give me the intimacy of a relationship with the commitment of a friendship, Guys who know my weaknesses well enough to understand I’m not the type to maintain a serious commitment, Guys who know my strengths to appreciate how much I have to give if they just let me, Guys who can even use the word ‘love’ without it having to define a relationship, Guys who get that relationships define themselves, Guys I can cuddle up with, cook for, sleep with and wake up next to.

Actually, Guy #123 and I only woke up together on a handful of occasions. Like most people with a good working brain he was a very sensitive person. Oftentimes I’d meet him while he was busy being hopelessly in love with someone he couldn’t be with, making it difficult for him to get truly intimate with someone.

I’m the type of person who looks for intimacy everywhere when I’m hopelessly in love. Guy #123 was the kind who’d deprive himself of it. Still, we often met on the middle ground and exchanged a lot of hugs there. One could argue it was in one of those hugs that Guy #123 inspired me to start writing.

His brains have proven to be an enormous turn on for me.

Relationship summary:

LENGTH: 4 years and counting
FORMAT: Loving friendship
SEX SCORE (0 = Anything Gollum <–> 10 = The best sex ever): 9

Guy #118 – Dating alone together…

Sex is like food. Whether it’s caviar, a Happy Meal or anything in between, sex is something to look forward to. But unless it’s masturbation sex is not a dish you eat alone. Eating together can be very rewarding, provided both parties can agree on what’s for dinner.

Guy #118 and I had met online, where he had pictures of him wearing leather outfits for the world to see. Leather ain’t my thing, but it lets me know when a Guy is aching for sex and nothing but sex. So when I met Guy #118 at his place he took me to his bedroom, sat me down on his bed, offered me an obligatory glass of water which I refused and then proceeded to let me have his way with him.

At the time I mostly had sex to avoid thinking about being a telemarketer without any goals to speak of. I avoided conversations about my life the way Stephen Hawking avoids escalators. After all, I wasn’t living. I was telemarketing, the last thing anyone would want to think of during sex.

So when Guy #118 hit me up a few weeks later I was all too happy to meet up with him once more and forget about living for a short while, except this time Guy #118 suggested we’d meet up for a drink first.

That ticked me off somewhat. I’m not keen on spending money on drinks if it’s sex I’m after, not in the least because I don’t enjoy having to scream over loud music in aid of keeping a conversation going with someone I only want to get inside of. Still, Guy #118 being very cute I deemed it an acceptable investment.

Naturally, Guy #118 asked me about my life as we were having drinks. I complained about being a telemarketer whilst trying to maintain a sense of pride befitting the top I was to him. It was difficult to keep that up, especially when Guy #118 wanted another round of drinks. Small talk has a tendency to become torture after a while, especially in the case of Guy #118, who himself had little to say.
“Shall we go to your place?” I asked after he finally finished his second drink. It wasn’t subtle, but then again, the only reason our paths had ever crossed was because the internet had pictures of him wearing leather. Subtlety was never supposed to be part of our relationship.
“Yeah, about that…” Guy #118 replied as my heart sank.
My date went on to explain his housemate was also home that night, meaning we couldn’t exactly have sex there.
I did not stick around for a third drink, instead going home, sexually frustrated like a rabbit in a cage full of mice.

Looking back, I don’t remember what on Earth convinced me to meet up with Guy #118 a third time. Once again he had asked to meet up for a drink. I guess I really wanted to believe Guy #118 was in it for the sex.
What struck me about our third date was how much attention Guy #118 had paid during our second. He remembered everything I had told him about myself. I on the other hand had totally forgotten what his job was, what part of Asia he was from, or what his name was.

Guy #118 wanted to be friends. I wanted to not think about telemarketing. He wanted a McCaviar. I wanted to eat my misery away.

A fourth date never materialized.

A few months ago Guy #118 got back in touch with me. He wanted to meet up again, only this time he suggested we’d get together and have fun on XTC and roofies. I guess he’d given up on friendship and gotten back to being his leather self again.

It’s not that I have anything against drugs, but I don’t think Guy #118 and I were ever meant to be on the same page together.

Like I said: A fourth date never materialized.

Relationship summary:

LENGTH: ±2 months
FORMAT: Sex date followed by failed attempt at friendship followed by failed attempt at sex date
SEX SCORE (0 = Telemarketing <–> 10 = The best sex ever): 8.7

Guy #108 – Good things come from taking pictures of mirrors…

Guy #108 and I dug each other’s pictures. It was all we talked about online. He was hot, I was hot and together we set a date to celebrate our collective hotness.

Usually dates based solely on hotness feature very little conversation. When two Guys get together for sex a conversation is like listening to Al Gore introducing a stripper. It sucks the libido out of you.

On the other hand, I was raised to be polite, to at least feign interest in people in the absence of any.

The thing is, when you start a conversation with someone just for the sake of the conversation, an actual conversation might arise and people can become interesting all of a sudden.

Guy #108 and I dug each other’s vibe more than we did our pictures. The sex that followed our chitchat even seemed a bit misplaced, like Al Gore at a strip club if you will.

The conversation flowed into sex was because it was the agreed upon arrangement. It never occurred to me some hot Guys are just not meant to be hot for each other.

Going to third base with Guy #108 wasn’t at all unpleasant, but I think both of us were sorry the conversation had ended.

The sex ended when Guy #108 started laughing.
“I’m sorry, I can’t do this,” he said.
“Why?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer: I was laughing too.

It was actually kind of refreshing to lie in bed with a beautiful Guy and not feel any sexual tension. In fact, all the tension that comes with random hook-ups had evaporated along with our collective libidos.

In lieu of consuming each other’s bodies in ways previously discussed online, Guy #108 and I became friends, our sexual history but a weird memory.

To people who meet me based on what I look like taking pictures of mirrors it can come as a surprise I’m not always as horny as my selfies would suggest. A sex date is not something I expect my personality to stand in the way of, but I guess Guy #108 had enough of a brain to realize I’m not at all like the person in my pictures. Sure, I try to come across as a hot puddle of vanity holding a cell phone when I’m on a sex date, but the reality is of course that having a laugh, making fun of myself and not being aroused by a total stranger come way more easily for me.

Sex dates, if nothing else, are a good way to make friends. I’m sure the world would be a prettier place if more people could get naked the way Guy #108 and I did.

Relationship summary:

LENGTH: 4 years and counting
FORMAT: Ridiculous hook-up that quickly evolved into comfortably sexless friendship
SEX SCORE (0 = Anything with the name TRUMP on it <–> 10 = The best sex ever): 5

Guy #? – A letter to a Guy I haven’t had sex with. Yet.

Guy #? and I met each other last December. We eyed, smiled and even talked to each other, flirted a little and took our relationship to the next level by becoming Facebook friends. Him being a French Guy living in Germany and me a Dutch one living in the Caribbean, we haven’t seen each other since. We have kept in touch though, sending each other metaphorical reminders of how nice it would be to maybe possibly have sex someday. I’ve also been quite loyal in liking his pics, especially those of his abs.

About a week ago Guy #? surprised me with a rather lengthy email. In it, he said he often feels lonely and that relationships, despite his best efforts, never work out for him. He spoke of an Italian Guy he had met on a getaway in Venice. They spent a few holidays together and established some form of long distance exclusive relationship. Then came the day Guy #?’s newfound boyfriend started acting more like a friend and less like a boyfriend: distant and ‘uncuddly’.
After addressing the matter his boyfriend confirmed the two of them were only dating, exclusively for sure, but not something one would call ‘having a boyfriend’. There was a lot of liking coming from Venice, but little loving. His boyfriend expressed doubts about his feelings, the distance had became a factor and perhaps more importantly, it seemed ‘typical’ of all the relationships Guy #? gets into.

Guy #? also lamented the many Guys focusing mostly on his looks, neglecting the intimacy he aches for, worsening his thirst for attention and love.

Feeling empathetic and slightly aroused, I sat down to write Guy #? a decent reply. That somehow ended up being the following letter. With his permission, here it is:

Dear Guy #?,

“L’amour est un oiseau rebelle
Que nul ne peut apprivoiser,
Et c’est bien en vain qu’on l’appelle,
S’il lui convient de refuser.”

Bizet or something

First of all, you can’t find love. It finds you. The only thing you need to do is believe it will. Given the history between you and the Germans I can see why it’s not working out. They did try to invade your home after all. Twice.

Okay, I’m kidding, but the point is you don’t feel at home where you live. If love is what’s missing and you believe Germany and love don’t go together – and no one would blame you – you need to ask yourself: Are Germans bad for you or are your own issues standing in between you and love?

I know, it’s hard to tell with Germans.

I get why many of them would be interested in your physicality. It means you are hot. As with everybody strengths and weaknesses are often one and the same trait. It is precisely your hotness that gets Guys to objectify you. The only thing you can do is what I try to tell every hot Guy I meet and that is to simply accept and embrace their own hotness. The hotter the Guy, the harder they shrug it off for some reason. Some people face the obstacle of being unattractive. You on the other hand are often judged on account of your good looks. If I were you, I would count your blessings. (All six packs of them for starters.)

Sure, people can be shallow, but the more you open up to them, the less shallow they become (or the faster they run away from you, it all depends). Compromise is an important part of any relationship, except for compromising on who you are. My guess is your frustration stems from your ability to please others when you should be pleasing yourself. I generally find that Guys are less into me the more I compromise. And the more I like a Guy, the more I compromise, the end result being an unrewarding fling that leaves me feeling lonely. I guess you know what that’s like.

You strike me as the romantic type. The gay scene can be harsh to romantics. Gays can be bitches after all, especially to hot romantic softies such as yourself. That was a compliment by the way.
In that respect I’m certainly sorry to hear it’s not working out between you and that Guy from Italy, or as I like to call him: the competition. (Let’s face it, I dig you.) I feel bad for you, but it would seem your latest relationship took place on vacation. Could it be you mostly meet Guys when you’re in flee-mode?

Could it be you’re a hopeless romantic constantly on the run from Germany?
Relationships don’t work when you’re on the run.

Like I said, you can’t find love. It finds you. If long distance is the default format of your relationships, something is wrong: Long distance relationships have this tendency to be doomed from the start.

The question is whether you don’t feel at home because love can’t find you in Germany or if love can’t find you there because you can’t make it your home. You say you’re okay with a long distance relationship, but I’m not so sure you are. Something tells me you’d settle for distance because it shields you from defining the meaning of ‘home’.

Home is where the heart is.

Personally, I’ve had quite a journey finding my home over the past ten years, having lived in Suriname, Canada and now Curaçao. In fact, I’ll be moving back to the Netherlands soon, Curaçao’s depressing lack of doable men being a major factor in my decision. I hope I will find my home, though truth be told it depends on me more than my environment. The same goes for you.
I actually have no idea what kind of work it is you do and if it would be easy for you to leave Germany. However, I’d say the odds of love finding you are spread equally over Germany, Italy or any other place where gays have parades. The trick is to embrace your own beauty, which is basically the point of those parades. I think you’re focused more on acknowledging and admiring another person’s beauty than your own. That’s very sweet but equally silly.

I’m not saying relationships only work out when you live within Grindr range of each other. I’m saying you, like everybody else, need to live your own life and believe there will come a day someone will fit in, instead of trying to accommodate your life to that of someone else.

The sadness you feel now is very real, but it’s rooted in what you deny yourself.

Wherever you end up, make it your home. I know this doesn’t happen overnight, but it helps to stop fleeing, to focus on having fun in the place you live, ‘fun’ meaning whatever you want it to mean. And who knows, maybe Germany isn’t the right place for you. I’d sure hate to make love in German. I’ve heard African clicking languages that sound sexier than German. But that’s just me.

Focus on loving yourself and love will find its way to you, is what I’m saying.

By the way, I am aware of my wiseassery. For the record, I suck at finding love just as much as the next Guy, but I am presently enjoying the rides. Well, most of them.

Hope this helps. Let me know if you want to talk more.

Umarmungen und Küsse (see how godawful that sounds?),

Lennard

Relationship summary:

LENGTH: 6 months and counting
FORMAT: Anticipatory Facebook friendship
SEX SCORE: ?

Guy #36 – Pain relief…

Guys #20 through #48 all guest starred in my life in the summer of 2009, when I spent three months in Toronto. Whatever I had going with Guys #20 to #48, each and every ‘relationship’ had an expiry date.

A very big part of me resented the fact I was to leave the city soon. It’s not so much the abundance of sex I would miss. It’s that I met some people that could have been good friends or maybe even more than that.

Guy #36 felt like a very good friend for one night.

Sex dates are actually a great way to meet people. Sure, sometimes they have the formality of a job interview, but for every person that leaves you feeling empty inside there’s another one that makes you feel alive, valuable and even loved.

Guy #36 came to my place and had sex with me. It was awesome. Our sexualities were a near perfect match.

The sex didn’t last very long. Things went from awesome to modestly spectacular after the sex, when Guy #36 and I started talking.

We ended up really connecting with each other.

Guy #36 told me he had been in a car accident this one time. He said he didn’t know what pain was until that moment. His body was still recovering from it. Pain was a near constant for him.

It’s probably why the sex had been so good. It was his pain relief. I always thought of physiotherapists as masseurs with less sex appeal, but Guy #36 told me physiotherapy can be a living hell. Sex must have been like morphine to him.

When I told Guy #36 I would be flying back to my home country soon he seemed genuinely disappointed, but neither one of us saw any use forcing a clumsy transatlantic friendship just because we digged each other. We were fine with this being a one-time pain relief.

Sometimes it can be strangely wonderful to cuddle up with a complete stranger you met on the internet. Someone who’s been through a lot of pain.

I don’t miss Guy #36. I do miss Toronto because of guys like him.
And I really hope his pain is gone.

Relationship summary:

LENGTH: 3 hours
FORMAT: Intimate sex date with pain relief
SEX SCORE (0 = Lying to your parents <–> 10 = The best sex ever): 9.2

Guy #13 – The tourist…

ABOUT THE AUTHOR AND THIS SITE
PREVIOUS GUYS

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.

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

Guy #6 – Sex with chocolate chip cookies…

ABOUT THE AUTHOR AND THIS SITE
PREVIOUS GUYS

Did I mention Guy #5 had a boyfriend?

Well, he did and a few days after spending a night at Guy #5’s place while his boyfriend was away on business, he introduced me to this boyfriend. In doing so, he also introduced me to the concept of open relationships.

Guy #5’s boyfriend would become Guy #6, in case you didn’t see that one coming. It would be my first ever threesome.

Guest starring in a couple’s sex life can be intense. It will teach you there’s no such thing as “just sex”. Just because a relationship is open, does not mean sex isn’t an issue.

And while the idea of a threesome might seem like a good one in movies and fantasies, the reality of it is that, at any given moment, one person will get less attention than the other two. That’s just a mathematical certainty. Add even a smidgen of insecurity to a threesome and you got yourself a cock fight.

As I was doing things with Guy #6, he would very often look at Guy #5, his eyes begging permission for whatever he was doing with me.

Although Guy #5 was very involved in our threesome at first, the night ended with me and Guy #6 having sex, while Guy #5 was sitting upright on his side of the bed, eating cookies, passively waiting for the sex to be over.

Granted, it wasn’t a cock fight in the traditional sense, meaning there weren’t any direct casualties. People did get hurt, though. At least, I think they did. I felt hurt after Guy #5 had grabbed his bowl of chocolate chip snacks, signaling that the party was over. Perhaps it was wrong of me to continue having a go at Guy #6. Maybe I should have called it quits when cookie #1 entered the scene.

At the time, Guy #5 and Guy #6 had been together for over half a decade. Sex may become a commodity over the years, but intimacy doesn’t. Despite the pure sexual tension I had seen in gay porn, to me it seemed impossible to tread on another couple’s sex life without trespessing on their love life as well.

As I was busy performing oral duties on Guy #6, his boyfriend actually offered us both a cookie. Led by a different kind of hunger, I rejected his generous offer. Guy #6 did have one, though. I guess he wasn’t in a position to reject anything his boyfriend threw at him.

In all fairness, I should point out it’s perfectly possible that the cause of all the tension was me. I had been nervous from the moment I realized I was going to be part of a threesome. I was afraid my relative sexual inexperience would be a factor. I wondered if perhaps there was some kind of “threesome etiquette” I ought to know about. Perhaps my own insecurities had transposed onto Guy #5 and Guy #6.

Then again, who in their right mind starts eating chocolate chip cookies in the midst of a threesome?

I guess sex is always an emotional experience. It’s part of what can make it fun. In movies and fantasies at least.
As you might expect from a site called 168guys.com, Guy #5 and Guy #6 weren’t my last threesome. After my first experience I concluded it was an area worth exploring, but not chasing.

Somehow Guy #5 and Guy #6 had struck the right balance with me.

Relationship summary:

LENGTH: 7 years and counting
FORMAT: Sex date followed by friendship that lasts till this day
SEX SCORE (0 sitting next to a smelly person on the subway and 10 being the best sex ever): 6