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 #140 and #141 – Letting go of the shallow…

The one thing I remember most from my dates with Guys #140 and #141 is the scenery.

For a while I had the pleasure of living in a house right next to the sea. It even had its own little private beach. The sea in question was the Caribbean Sea, meaning I lived next to what could have been the set for Finding Nemo. Basically, I woke up to the sight of the world’s most generic wallpaper every day.

Having dates in that environment can be fun, even if those dates themselves aren’t that attractive.

Guy #140 was an engineer from Colombia, over at my island to do some engineering stuff and to get off with the locals in his spare time. We sat on my beach, counted the number of ships we saw on the horizon, talked about the mysteries of the cosmos and our macabre interest in plane crashes. I actually had a great time with him as we pondered the final moments of Air France 447. It was awesome to go that deep with a stranger.

Yet as much as I dig deep, I consider looks important too. While it’s definitely hot to discuss the inner workings of a pitot tube with an engineer at night on your own private beach, this particular engineer had belly fat and chest hair.

Still, I found myself in a romantic setup in one of the most romantic places I had ever been, let alone lived. I believe it was me who initiated the first kiss, which ended in my bed somehow.

While Guy #140 surrendered himself to making love to me as passionately as engineers can manage, I couldn’t shake the thought of being in a plane crash. While I thought of it in terms of how lucky I am to be alive, it wasn’t the sort of motivational speech to get me in the mood. Added to that, said sex took place in my bedroom, where the sound of the ocean got replaced by the humming of the air conditioning.

Still, I didn’t feel regret afterward. In fact, part of me couldn’t deny part of me had enjoyed it. I guess sometimes it’s liberating to let go of the shallowness, uneasy as it may feel. If it hadn’t been for that generic wallpaper as my back yard, I probably would have rejected Guy #140.
So there you go. Scenery matters.

Testament to that fact was Guy #141, a tourist from France, also equipped with belly fat and chest hair, but also equally engaging. It actually thrilled me I was capable of maintaining a conversation in French for a full hour, covering topics such as terrorism, freedom of speech or the horror that is blue cheese.
Once again, it was me who initiated foreplay and although it’s never a good idea to have sex with the memory of blue cheese resurfacing as blue cheese would, part of me had nothing but a good time.

Before Guys #140 and #141 there had been Guy #139, the most beautiful Guy I ever shared a bed and a car with. He too had been at my beach. He only spoke Spanish, meaning my mind wasn’t on global warming or the Challenger disaster when I had sex with him.
Now, I had used my secret human powers to connect with someone on a meaningful level, in French even. The resulting sex was almost equally rewarding, even though I would have done Guy #139 over any engineer no matter what the scenery.

Guys #140 and #141 were both intelligent, friendly and charming people who came by to teach me a few simple yet powerful life lessons:

– Scenery matters.
– As do looks.
– And even brains in some cases.

It’s rewarding to let go of the shallow.
It’s also not easy.

Relationship summaries:

Guy #140:
LENGTH: 3 hours
FORMAT: Sex date
SEX SCORE (0 = Beauty and the Beast, when you stop to think about what it entails <–> 10 = The best sex ever): 7.5

Guy #141:
LENGTH: 2 hours
FORMAT: Sex date
SEX SCORE (0 = Also, The Little Mermaid was a minor when she hooked up with Prince Eric <–> 10 = The best sex ever): 8.5


Do what I did. Start with Guy #1.

Guy #139 – So sometimes hot Guys are into me…

When I met Guy #22, he was the most beautiful Guy I’d ever been with.
When I met Guy #81, he was the most beautiful Guy I’d ever been with.
Until I met Guy #106, the most beautiful Guy I’ve ever been with.

Except for Guy #139 that is.

I don’t know what to tell about Guy #139 except for the fact he was the most beautiful Guy I have ever been with up till now. He was a Colombian tourist who visited my home island of Curaçao for a weekend. Although I hardly ever take initiative on Grindr, the sight of his abs compelled me to say ‘Hi’. I couldn’t imagine someone this undeniably gorgeous to take an interest in me, but much to my surprise he said ‘Ola’ back.

Guy #139 spoke Spanish. I did not.
I spoke English. Guy #139 did not.

So when I went to meet Guy #139 at his hotel, our only means of communicating was this phone app he had. I would say something in English and then some distant cousin of Siri would read my words back to him in Spanish and vice versa.

It was frustrating having to articulate and compress all my thoughts into childlike sentences, but at the same time I was probably blessed by our little language barrier: I was so in awe of Guy #139’s beauty I had trouble thinking of sensible things to say. Had we been granted a common language odds are I would have awkwardized our date beyond repair, as I so often do in the presence of beauty.

Guy #139 and I walked down a beach until we reached the outer edge of the hotel’s wifi network, where Spanish Siri rendered our conversation dead. Forced to head back, Guy #139 suggested we’d get together in my car.

And so Guy #139 and I had sex in my car in broad daylight on a parking lot where ‘hotel_guest’ got one bar, just enough to ask my Colombian twink underwear model to join me on the back seat. I usually don’t like car sex, but Guy #139 being so incredibly good looking my libido allowed me to let go of my inhibitions. I didn’t care whether we’d be seen, get caught or even disturbed.

What I did care about was whether or not I was enjoying Guy #139 to the full. Though I wholeheartedly embraced the Naughty, I really wanted to embrace Guy #139, something that proved difficult in a 1982 Mazda.

Earlier, Siri’s cousin had informed me my date would also be available later that night, for a full few hours, meaning I could pick him up, take him to my place, get high to the sound of the ocean, embrace the most beautiful Guy I ever had sex with and then drop him off again.
To increase my chances of seeing Guy #139 a second time I stopped when he started showing signs of coming. I wanted him close, but not over the edge just yet. Except for sexual chemistry there was no language in which I could adequately express how much I wanted him at my place later that night. But perhaps more importantly, I wanted something to look forward to as well. And in another stroke of pure luck, neither one of us had condoms at hand, meaning our car date would leave something to be desired no matter what.

I suppose it’s a good thing Guy #139 had no access to my thoughts.

I’d like to think of Guy #139 as a little present the universe threw in my path, just a quick reminder that yes, sometimes even beautiful Guys are attracted to me. This one in particular was all too eager to come to my place that night, where we got high and then had sex in which I embraced the living daylights out of him. We hugged a lot too. And then I dropped him off at his hotel, knowing all too well the chances of me ever owning Guy #139 again were slimmer than the plot of Jurassic Park actually happening.

In a way I was relieved I’d never be seeing Guy #139 again, beautiful as he was. I couldn’t help but feel I had enjoyed him to the full, meaning every other attempt at having a conversation would just be pushing it, not to mention make things awkward.

I’m pretty sure he’s the most beautiful thing ever to have found itself inside of that 1982 Mazda though.

Relationship summary:

LENGTH: 1 x 1 hour + 1 x 3 hours
FORMAT: Sex date + a better sex date
SEX SCORE (0 = Philately <–> 10 = The best sex ever): 9.9

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