LGBT – Page 8

Guy #27 – Recreationship…

Sex is a bit like drugs.

If you know how to use drugs wisely, a lot of them can be fun.

Sex is the one drug we should embrace as a society. It is pretty well established that the more people smoke weed, the less people get upset about it. It’s the same with sex.

So while we shouldn’t get high 24/7, on the special occasion you do the best idea is to simply enjoy it as much as you can.

This was my mindset the night I met Guy #27.

His opening line was Do you know that you are very beautiful? It was in that moment I decided I was going to enjoy him as much as I could.

We talked a little over very loud music. I’m not a fan of extremely loud club music, but I do like how it forces you to be in each other’s space when you’re talking. It makes the whole seduction ritual flow ever so smoothly. The noise causes proximity. The proximity causes touching. The touching causes even more touching. All the touching causes kissing and not long after that Guy #27 and I were gorging on each other like a pair of toothless zombies.

We didn’t just kiss. We ate each other.

I was in a big city in a shady night club celebrating my own sexuality. I was fully aware of the fact there were people mere feet away from us, staring at us in silent disbelief over how Guy #27 and I were going at each other.

When you have sex it’s nice not to care about what the rest of the world thinks of it.

Naturally I ended up at Guy #27’s place, a beautiful Downtown apartment overlooking the city skyline. I was living a dream.

The great thing about careless sex is that it allows you to open up to someone. Guy #27 and I got to know each other quite well over the few months we dated. In some ways we had a little bit of a relationship-thing going on. We went out for dinner together. We ate breakfast together. We would talk together. We would be together.

A big city becomes so much more of an experience when you have someone to share it with.

Sexwise, the gorging stopped after our first date. The sex between us became increasingly satisfying, but neither one of us was being greedy about it anymore.

I guess you could say Guy #27 and I were both very good recreational drug users. You might argue the two of us were having a recreationship. I enjoyed being with Guy #27 the way I enjoyed a good massage or a nice dinner. Or drugs.

Guy #27 had made his home in the city we enjoyed together. To me this city was merely a stopover. Our recreationship was never meant to last.
The two of us recently got back in touch though. It’s a nice feeling when someone welcomes you back into their life after having been absent from it for years.
Guy #27 told me he has fond memories of the time we shared together. He also said he had enjoyed the sex, but that he has since gotten better at it.

I told him the same goes for me.

Relationship summary:

LENGTH: ± 2 months
FORMAT: Recreationship
SEX SCORE (0 = Club music at a funeral <–> 10 = The best sex ever): 8.8

Guy #26 – Commitment is not a choice…

Gays and monogamy.

Sometimes it seems the two go together like alcohol and a hangover.

Commitment can be a wonderful thing, but it requires a lot of self esteem for it to be wonderful. I don’t think Guy #26 had a lot of that to go around.

I never met the other half of Guy #26, but he painted a picture of a possessive and belittling jerk who physically abused him sometimes.
‘Why do you stay with him?’ I asked. Guy #26 was unable to give me a clear answer.

I guess relationships can be like addictions. They can make you high at first, after which you forever ache to feel as high as you did that very first time.

Any addict will tell you the first high is always the best, though.

Guy #26 seemed very depressed because of his relationship. He knew he loved his boyfriend, but the reasons for this love had dissipated over the years. There probably never had been any real reasons to begin with, just a short spree of intense joy that disappeared the moment Guy #26 committed himself to feeling that high again.

In search of a surrogate he had uploaded a few selfies on Craigslist, where his path crossed with mine.

Apart from discovering my fist fitted into Guy #26’s anus this one time, the sex between us can best be described as lovingly pornographic, or maybe the word is simply passionate. Guy #26 wanted someone who could make him feel loved again. I was willing to give him that feeling on account of his lovable looks and equally attractive sweetness.

As time progressed we would spend less and less time in his house having sex, instead doing stuff such as walking through a park together, sitting on a bench and talking about life, love and what it’s like to be together and lonely at the same time.

Guy #26 had been very happy with his abusive boyfriend in the past. His relationship was now stuck in purgatory, his only solace being the fists of strangers.

Commitment can make you very lonely if done for the wrong reasons.

In countries where people are free to read this blog gay people live in a world where sex has become a product as accessible as a Big Mac.

Sex is not nearly as unhealthy as fast food and the experience will always be a little different. A lot of (gay) people fear commitment because they don’t want to miss out on experience.

The thing is, commitment is the experience. Much like being gay, commitment is not a choice. It flows naturally if you let it.

If you let it.

That’s the scary part. Commitment is not about holding on to something or someone. It’s about letting go and surrendering yourself to this thing called love.

Guy #26 was holding on, while he should have been letting go.

Letting go isn’t easy for anal people, though.

And something tells me Guy #26 was just that. Pretty darn anal.

Relationship summary:

LENGTH: ± 2 months
FORMAT: 5 secret sex dates that evolved into friendship, followed by passive Facebook friendship
SEX SCORE: (0 = Stuffing a turkey <–> 10 = The best sex ever): 9

Guy #25 – The man with the beard, the jaded lighting guy and the harbinger of glucose…

They say prostitution is the world’s oldest profession, but porn must have followed suit soon afterward.

Porn lets us step into a world where our fantasies can become reality. That can make it a wonderful product. Granted, these are usually not the kind of fairytales you talk about during Thanksgiving dinner with family.

My mother and I once had a conversation about porn.
‘I sometimes wondered what it would be like,’ she said, ‘but I could never imagine actually doing anything like that.’
‘What would you say if I had done porn?’ I asked.
‘I don’t think I’d want to know. Mothers don’t need to know everything.’
I left it at that.

Yet the vast majority of people I know are fully aware of the fact I did gay porn once. Well, six times, but all within a very short time span. I never received anything but compliments, mostly from those who hadn’t even seen the actual product. Most people would admit to me that they too had once fantasized about being in a porn movie.

To all the people still in the closet out there, now that you have read all this: I know what it’s like coming out of a closet. It’s like suddenly the whole world knows about your dirty little secrets.

And that’s okay:

In one of those dirty little secrets I found myself in a 24^th floor hotel room in Toronto’s gay district, quite naked, having actual sex with a guy, surrounded by a bearded guy with a camera, a guy moving lights around and another guy who I mostly remember as being the one who supplied us with brownies in between takes. Occasionally, I heard the sound of a family with children passing down the hallway.

Earlier me, Guy #25 and the crew had passed the lobby with filming equipment in plain sight. I remember looking at the receptionist, realizing he knew exactly what I was about to do. This wasn’t the first time he had seen that bearded guy, the athletic guy carrying all the lighting equipment and a guy with brownies pass by, accompanied by two young men.

But in porn, making it past the lobby is only the easy part.

Doing porn is hard work. It was definitely a fun experience, but not much of a sexual one. Guy #25 wasn’t my lover. He was my colleague. There was never a moment I forgot I was part of a product.

Humanity consumes a lot of porn. I have a lot of respect for people who make porn for a living. I for one couldn’t imagine ever paying for porn these days. It’s like paying someone to press enter on your laptop.

If there’s one thing I regret, it’s that I didn’t make a better porn movie. The people I worked with were extremely professional, funny and comfortable to be around with. It just wasn’t the kind of movie I would ever watch myself. And till this day I haven’t, by the way.

Maybe it’s my feminine side, but when I watch porn I am also in it for the story. Of course I know what will happen when two or more guys enter a ski cabin together, but still, the opening shots of them playing outside in the snow, having fun and joyfully throwing snow balls at each other makes for a nice back story. I wouldn’t mind being part of a group of gorgeous guys for a weekend in and around a remote ski cabin.

My back story was two guys enter a hotel room and have sex during a job interview, with the sound of a family with children in the background.

Had I felt as beautiful then as I do now, I would definitely have pursued my attempts at doing gay porn. But I would have aimed a little higher. I would have tried to make something I knew I’d enjoy watching myself.

That’s not to discredit the man with the beard, the lighting guy, the harbinger of glucose and least of all Guy #25, all of whom had passed the lobby boy dozens of time before me. People that have seen my movie generally consider Guy#25 hot. He wasn’t exactly my kind of hot, but he was very pleasantly professional. At one point in between takes he talked about how he had read on the internet that CERN in Switzerland was going to collide some particles that would create a black hole and suck up the Earth, sometime in 2015.
I like talking about quantum physics during sex.

The people I worked with all put a lot of effort into their work. I don’t think I’ve ever been in a room full of work related people where everybody was so professional. There’s not much ego going around when there’s so much nakedness going on. These people create a product most of us want to see for free in ever increasing quantities. I met the lighting guy in one of Toronto’s shadier gay clubs one night. He complained about how nothing in the city excited him anymore. He said it, while in the background there were two guys on a stage engaging in not so tender foreplay.

To be honest, those two guys on that stage didn’t do anything for me either. It can be fun making the product, but you run the risk of overconsuming. In cities with gay districts, a lot of people overconsume on sex.

Guy #25 had made dozens of movies before me, as did everybody else in the room. He had a very good body, but I could tell he had consumed a lot of glucose for his age.

I was glad I could put porn on my list of experiences, but I couldn’t imagine ever making a career out of it. It’s a lot of work for very little reward: Five hours of having sex under scorching lights when all you can think about is when you’re going to get your next brownie. It’s exhausting.

When someone writes you a check after you had sex with someone, you can’t help but feel a little bit like a prostitute. You just had sex for money after all. At the same time I also realized there would be a lot of people that would appreciate my product. Is it wrong to sell your sexuality if it empowers you somehow?

Or was I overconsuming?

Relationship summary:

LENGTH: 5 hours
FORMAT: Collegial
SEX SCORE (0 = 99 bottles of beer on the wall <–> 10 = The best sex ever): 5,5
HONORABLE MENTIONS: The man with the beard, the jaded lighting guy and the harbinger of glucose.

Guy #23 – Chubby, bearded and oh so sweet…

Your sex life is a bit like a box of chocolates. You never know which one you’re gonna get. But you do know you want more, because chocolate just so happens to be addictive like nicotine.

Or maybe that’s just me.

Personally, I like experience in the broadest sense of the word. So whenever I have one piece of chocolate, I crave for more.

I spent the summer of 2009 in Toronto, Canada, the biggest box of chocolates I had ever seen. I wanted to use my time there to explore as much of my sexuality as humanly possible. Maybe it was greed, maybe it was lust, desire, curiosity, unresolved mother issues or all of the above, but for me the time had come to cross another boundary.

At 27 years of age I was still young. I feel prettier now than I did back then, but my reasoning at the time was that my beauty had already peaked. If I wanted to explore my own sexuality, the time was now, or so I figured.

So I auditioned for gay porn.

Like many gay guys, I enjoy watching gay porn from time to time. As such, I’ve come to appreciate the efforts of gay porn stars, exposing their own sexuality for the world to see and admire. I reasoned that doing gay porn would be a nice way to ‘give’ something to the gay community, while at the same time using my own sexuality as an instrument of sorts. I enjoyed the thought of being in control of my sexuality.

For years at an end, my sexuality had been tied down, suppressed by a heterosexual dream I had chased for way too long. Now that I had finally and definitively shed myself of all the restraints I came to know and hate over the years I was ready to live.

To live.

So I auditioned for gay porn.

How does one audition for gay porn?

Well, one goes on Craigslist.

The rest pretty much came naturally. I responded to an ad asking for gay porn models by emailing a few selfies. I then received a phone call from someone asking me if I was absolutely sure I wanted my naked self on the internet for the entire duration of human civilization. After agreeing to that term I was invited to audition.

Technically speaking, Guy #23 and I never had sex. He never even touched me, not in a sexual way at least. Guy #23 was a producer and director of gay porn videos. I first met him in his apartment, where I had come to audition.

So how does one actually audition for gay porn?

Well, one unzips his pants and shows a porn producer one can obtain and maintain an erection in the absence of any sexual arousal.

I passed the test.

In fact, I passed all three tests. Guy #23 explained to me porn is about three things: Personality, looks and dick size. He mentioned them in that order, and rightfully so I might add.

During my audition, a friend and colleague of Guy #23 dropped by for a visit. I believe I wasn’t wearing everything when he came in. He modestly complimented what he was seeing and introduced himself as casually as if we had met on a company picnic. He would later tell me he spent his free time counseling people with HIV. It made me feel good I was going to do porn with people that were anything but heartless.

Guy #23 and I would become friends. He introduced me to stuff gays can do in big cities. I had never heard of the concept of a gay sauna until Guy #23 took me there one evening. And while Guy #23 and I never did anything sexual together, he was there during some of my most intimate moments. I had definitely crossed a boundary with him, but mostly it was nice having a chubby bearded French Canadian as a friend.

I once asked him if he liked his job. He had made hundreds of videos before me. I wondered how something like that would affect my own sex life. I always intended for porn to be a part of my sex life, not a part of my resume.
“I get jaded sometimes,” Guy #23 said.

I’d like to think he wasn’t jaded when he was working with me.

Relationship summary:

LENGTH: 3 months
FORMAT: Professional friendship
SEX SCORE: N/A

Guy #22 – My looks matter too…

It can’t be denied some of the guys you find on Craigslist are hot.

Guy #22 was one of those guys.

In fact, he was the hottest guy I had ever been with up till then. And I was already at a point where that meant something.

At first I considered myself lucky. What could possibly go wrong in the presence of sheer beauty?

Well, for starters it didn’t take me long to realize Guy #22 was hotter than I was. I couldn’t help but feel sorry he had to settle for me. I felt unworthy of the sex he agreed upon.

The sex was actually modestly spectacular, for me at least. I’m not sure if Guy #22 was having any fun. I don’t think he enjoyed me as much as I him.

As we were busy performing numerous pleasures on each other’s bodies I found myself constantly in awe of the body I was performing them on. I felt sorry for my own body in return. Guy #22 must have felt my inferiority. Even if he did find me attractive, my own shame must have masked most of what I had to offer.

We followed up the sex with a shower. Again, I was uncomfortable rubbing soap on something I considered too good to be mine. I literally didn’t know how to rub things the right way.

A few days after our 45 minute encounter I talked to Guy #22 on MSN, which people still used back then. I asked if he wanted us to meet up a second time.
‘Not really,’ he said. I was flattered by his honesty, but disappointed at the same time. I wondered if I would ever get another chance to be wanted by so much beauty again. Then again, I was never that wanted. I was granted, at best.

People with good therapists tend to believe looks don’t matter. I have a MSc. in Psychology and I think looks do matter. So either I’m a lousy therapist or looks are an important part of who we become in life. That’s not an ideology. It’s an observation.

Yet I also observed how looks are fluid, how they are mostly an extension of how you feel about yourself. I believe everybody looks as attractive as they feel.

Had I felt more attractive in the presence of Guy #22, he might have wanted me a second time. Still, him granting me access to his beauty made me feel more beautiful. I know, our personalities hardly played a role. At the time I was still caught up in discovering my own personality and lacked the mental capacity to really dive into the minds of people I met through Craigslist.

Had I met Guy #22 today I probably would have tried to get to know him. I would have allowed him to know me. And then the sex might have been really spectacular, and plentiful.
We could have granted each other much more than we did.

I wasted Guy #22 and quite a few hotties after him, simply by referring to them as hotties. Whenever I consider a guy a hottie it’s an expression of insecurities about my own looks. Those insecurities prevented a lot of pleasant sex from becoming phenomenal sex.

Whenever I think back about guys like Guy #22, I often wish I could see them again. I would love to have a conversation with Guy #22, find out what makes him tick.

Then again, his Craigslist ad at the time specifically stated he was an ‘athletic top in search of NSA fun’. He never wanted our relationship to last more than an hour.

Guys often make it difficult to find love in each other.
We’re like people that way.

Relationship summary:

LENGTH: 45 minutes
FORMAT: Sex date
SEX SCORE: (0 = Having ‘the Talk’ with your parents <–> 10 = The best sex ever): 8.2

Guy #21 – Looks matter…

There’s a big difference between a body and a face.

A body can be shaped. A human being can survive on blueberries, bananas, rice and oatmeal. Really, if you don’t mind bidding farewell to pasta and cramming out a hundred sit-ups every day, getting a nice body isn’t that big of an achievement.

A face however is pretty static. No amount of gym hours can change the way you look with your clothes on.

Of course, impulsive little me found that out the hard way.

You can guess where this is going.

Guy #21 had a gorgeous body. By the looks of his abs pasta was poison to him. I would have been attracted to him, were it not for the fact that his face appeared to have been drawn by Picasso.

Our paths had crossed on Craigslist, where his faceless body pic was somehow hot enough to make me want to see him. Heaven knows what the hell I was thinking.

I felt sorry for Guy #21. I’d like to believe we live in a world where everybody is equally beautiful on the outside, but the sad reality is that some people are objectively unattractive. Guy #21 probably read the disappointment in my eyes when we first met. I’m sure it was a look he had seen on other faces, perhaps even his own every time he passed a mirror.

Having been a virgin for the first 24 years of my life, I know what it’s like to go through life feeling ugly. For a long time I probably was unattractive. That’s the kind of energy I radiated. It’s the kind of energy Guy #21 radiated.

I had sex with him out of empathy.
It wasn’t great.

Yet it wasn’t awful either. And not just because of his abs. Guy #21 had a warm and loving personality, especially by Craigslist standards. And even though Craigslist was swarming with guys looking for quick fixes, it was obvious Guy #21 was looking for a connection, a bond with someone, something meaningful, however superficial.

Actually, over the years I’ve come to experience there’s no such thing as superficial sex. I just wasn’t aware of that during my date with Guy #21. Had I known Craigslist cashes in on our desire to be loved, I might have summoned up the honesty to tell him he wasn’t my type. I might have told him he should work on believing in his beauty instead of doing sit-ups to increase his sense of self worth.

A face may be static, but a brain isn’t. It took me 168 guys to appreciate how much my brain determines the way I look, 168 and counting.

I hope Guy #21 grew up to be as attractive as I am now.

Relationship summary:

LENGTH: Two hours
FORMAT: Sex date
SEX SCORE: (0 = “I did not hit her. It’s not true. It’s bullshit. I did not hit her. I did not. Oh, hi Mark.” <–> 10 = The best sex ever): 6

Guy #19 – The quickest of quickies…

If a guy grabs you by the balls while you’re peeing into a urinal and you let him, does that count as sex?

I guess technically it could count as the quickest of quickies, clocking in at 5.4 seconds of absolute foreplay.

Even in a filthy public washroom Guy #19 was hot. It was never a question of whether or not I would let him grab my balls. The question was whether or not I would hold up my pee for him. The thing is, I had already started peeing by the time Guy #19 arrived at the scene. My mind was puzzled: Would it be rude to continue peeing? Would it be awkward if I suddenly stopped? And if I stopped, how long was I supposed to wait until I could let the remainder flow? Was I willing to exert that much power over someone I didn’t know? Did I want this guy to think he can make me pee whenever it pleases him? Should I tell him I’m nowhere near that submissive? What would be a good time to tell him? Should I be peeing when I tell him, or should I hold it up, tell him, and then continue peeing?

I don’t really remember what the ball grabbing actually felt like. Guy #19 either enjoyed it or pretended to, as did I.

I do remember it stopped as suddenly as it had begun. Guy #19 retracted his hands, greeted me like a gentleman and walked away.

At the time I was absolutely confident that our washroom encounter was but a prelude of what was to come, but strangely enough I’ve never seen or heard from him since.

Maybe it’s because I didn’t hold up my pee for him.

Sorry.

Relationship summary:

LENGTH: 5.4 seconds
FORMAT: Hand-to-balls physical contact
SEX SCORE (0 = A hobbit Jehovah’s witness <–> 10 = The best sex ever): 4.5

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 #12 – Gandalf at a Tupperware party…

Picture yourself a private pool in a remote garden, late at night, filled with six guys, two of which are couples that start making out. That leaves two guys, sitting in a pool, surrounded by four people that just initiated foreplay.

I know, it has all the makings of a spectacular orgy.

Sadly, one of the single guys in that pool was me and the other one was Guy #12.

Sexually speaking, Guy #12 didn’t scare, disgust or in any way affect me. There had just never been even the slightest bit of sexual chemistry between us. Whatever I saw myself confronted with, it simply wasn’t my thing and I couldn’t see it ever being my thing. One might argue I felt like Gandalf at a Tupperware party: Intolerably lonely.

Moments after the two couples had started making out, Guy #12 grabbed his chance and, well…grabbed Gandalf by the balls. The worst part is Gandalf let him.

Of the six people in that pool, five were clearly in the mood for sex and all five had found someone who they wanted to have sex with. Gandalf was the odd one out, but he didn’t feel like spoiling the sensual tension that had spontaneously arisen.

What followed was an uncomfortable game of give and take in which Gandalf found himself weighing his personal boundaries against his desire to fit in. He’s not used to dealing with that kind of pressure.

I leave it to your imagination to decide how far Gandalf ended up letting Guy #12 go. I’ll only say it was further than anything he could ever have enjoyed with someone like Guy #12. It was yet another strike of regrettable sex, so afterward that’s what Gandalf felt: Regret. It’s never good for your ego to have sex out of politeness.

Five out of six people in that pool were having fun, or at least so it seemed. Most of it took place under water at night, so I’m not really sure what everyone was doing. All I knew was that Gandalf wanted it to be over. While Guy #12 was clearly having trouble believing he had gotten so lucky, Gandalf was silently loathing himself.

I sometimes find myself complaining when I strike forgettable sex, but it’s people like Guy #12 that remind me how nice it can be to forget sometimes. Whenever I think about the sex with Guy #12 I tend to dissociate a little.

Pretty much what you’d expect from Gandalf at a Tupperware party, trying to do the polite thing.

Relationship summary:

LENGTH: 5 or 6 years, give or take, on and off
FORMAT: Friendship, let’s just leave it at that
SEX SCORE: (0 = being Gandalf at a Tupperware party <–> 10 = the best sex ever): 0

Guy #11 – The hunter…

The first and only time I drank so much alcohol it made me vomit was the night I kissed Guy #11. I don’t think he knew. The kissing happened after the vomiting, in case he’s reading this and wondering.

At the time I cruised our local gay scene on a weekly basis. It consisted of about thirty guys, a handful of women and one dress queen.

With ever increasing proficiency I was mastering the art of picking up total strangers for the purpose of having sex.
The local gay scene was small, but it wasn’t static. People would often pop in and out of the closet, so every Friday night I would see a few unfamiliar faces. Plus the gay scene expanded as time progressed.

Still, some nights were slower than others. This one in particular ended with me and a friend of mine leaning against the bar, staring at a depressingly empty dance floor. We had both come for the hunt but had failed to score some prey.

Perhaps I should apologize for initiating the first kiss, so shortly after I had vomited. Then again, if it wasn’t for all the alcohol, Guy #11 would never have gotten to have sex with me. I had become good at sensing when a guy was into me. It never crossed my mind Guy #11 would object the idea of us kissing. And he didn’t, because we ended up doing a whole lot more than just kissing. He should probably count himself lucky I vomited before and not during.

I never really intended to have sex with this friend. But after I had dropped him off at his house I had somehow found an excuse to park my car and somehow ended up on my friend’s porch, where I somehow ended up kissing him. I wasn’t really sure why I did that. I guess a hunter doesn’t like to go home empty handed.

Fortunately, Guy #11 and I pretty much shared the same sexual lifestyle at the time, so the one-time sex didn’t make things awkward between us.

Him reading about the vomiting might.

Relationship summary:

LENGTH: 7 years and counting
FORMAT: Friendship interspersed with one drunken instance of sex on a porch
SEX SCORE: (0 = Seeing ALIEN for the first time <–> 10 = The best sex ever): 7.5

Guy #10 – Why I’ve been such a bad kisser for so long…

Our lips are basically a part of our body that’s turned inside-out. That’s what makes kissing so intimate: It’s when our insides touch, connect and shake tongues.

In my experience it’s not uncommon for sex dates to not feature any kissing, for the same reason Julia Roberts refused to kiss Richard Gere throughout Pretty Woman: Kissing a complete stranger mimics the intimacy I believe all human beings both crave and fear. Kissing is a slippery slope.

Personally, I’m a big fan of kissing. Sex is infinitely better when lip-to-lip action is on the menu.

Except in the case of Guy #10.
Not all lips are created equal.

It would be unfair to say Guy #10 was a bad kisser. It’s just that his labial anatomy had completely failed him. That much became clear the moment our lips touched.

From a distance Guy #10’s lips appeared completely ordinary. Only upon first contact did I discover he lacked the capability to move his lips in any meaningful way. They were just there, stiff and motionless, tight and cold, lifeless and dry.

I’m not judging Guy #10. I for one have quite a few incurable genetic setbacks myself: I can’t blink my eyes separately, I can’t make my ears move, I can’t curl up my tongue, I can’t whistle, I can’t get my jaw to make that clicking sound, I can’t separate my ring finger from my middle finger like Dr. Spock. The list of my innate fallacies is endless.

However, lipwise I’m pretty well endowed and to me, kissing is a dichotomous variable. Either you kiss or you don’t.

Except of course in the case of Guy #10.

I imagine kissing a blow-up doll most closely resembles the touch of Guy #10’s lips. I could sense he was trying to keep up with mine, but he didn’t stand a chance. His lips were like a sphinx cat fencing off a T-Rex.
Guy #143 once told me I kiss too fiercely. I think my aggressive kissing philosophy has been a contributing factor in losing many guys over the years. Sometimes I wish I had known before Guy #143 straight out told me my kissing was a bit too much “in his face”. Guy #10 could have benefitted from that.

Apart from his lips being small and cold, perhaps the main reason Guy #10 couldn’t keep up was because he wasn’t looking for any intimacy. I was, even though I wasn’t aware of it at the time. The two of us got along really nicely, had done some pleasant conversational stuff and the sex just flowed naturally from thereon out. I must have felt some sort of connection. I kissed him to seal that connection. He kissed me because it was obligatory foreplay.

We didn’t kiss long. The rest of our date went like clockwork. It would be our only date, though. It was nice to regularly run into Guy #10 at our local gay bar for a while. We shared a nice memory but didn’t feel the need to expand on that. We had both erased ourselves from our to do-lists. I think I could have made him hungry for more if I hadn’t gorged on him so much. Then again, that’s why I wasn’t hungry for more in the first place.

Sadly, it would take me a very long time to realize not everyone likes to be kissed by a T-Rex.

I kissed too eagerly for years at an end. I never consciously entered the gay scene in search of love or something sappy. It took me years to finally learn it’s always been exactly that what’s driven me: Love, or something sappy. I must have unconsciously expressed that feeling in my kissing technique.

Unfortunately, Guy #10’s lips were the opposite of sappy.

I apologize for wreaking havoc on his inside-out.

Relationship summary:

LENGTH: ± 4 years
FORMAT: One-time sex date, followed by a few years of politely greeting each other at random encounters
SEX SCORE (0 = kissing a frog that doesn’t turn into a prince <–> 10 = the best sex ever): 6.5

Guy #9 – Hot guy. Disgusting roommate.

If you live near the equator and can’t afford a place with air conditioning, insects become like roommates. Guy #9 had one big fat disgusting roommate.

It’s not so much that the sex with Guy #9 was bad. It was the cockroach that kept crawling over his floor that kept me from really enjoying it. Privileged white guys such as me don’t like being confronted with poverty, especially not during sex.

For any Scandinavians out there, a cockroach is arguably evolution at its freakiest. They’re like miniature versions of that thing from ALIEN.

I dare anyone to keep up the sexual tension in the presence of a pulsating cockroach that may or may not fly, mere feet away. It can be done. It just requires a lot of concentration, perseverance and guts.

But most of all I felt pity as me and Guy #9 were having sex. He actually lives here! is what went through my mind. What I considered a dump was what Guy #9 referred to as ‘home’. It was his closet in each and every sense of the word.
I was uncomfortably humbled by the way my host did his best to make me feel at home, offering me a seat on his stretcher as if it was a chair. He must have known I was used to houses where the living room, bedroom, washroom and kitchen aren’t all the same tiny-ass room.

I felt nervous throughout our entire date. Afterward, he didn’t offer me to stay the night while I was glad he hadn’t asked me to. Looking back, I think Guy #9 and I came from two completely different worlds. In a way I appreciated how nothing but sexual chemistry had brought the two of us together.
But the experience must have been a bit surreal for the both of us. I guess we both felt alien.

I was most uncomfortable the moments I couldn’t see where that cockroach had gone. ALIEN was scary precisely because it got so little screen time. The cockroach followed a similar tactic.

Guy #9 was a very sweet, slightly timid and cute student. I have no idea what he studied, but he did strike me as ambitious. I hope life has given him the means to afford some decent IKEA. At least.

RELATIONSHIP SUMMARY:

LENGTH: 2 hours
FORMAT: Sex date
SEX SCORE (0 = having to read about cockroaches <–> 10 = the best sex ever): 5

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