Sex – Page 5

Guy #46 – The massage…

A good massage is quite literally like a trip to heaven, a place of infinite bliss and carelessness.
A good massage makes you forget about your worries and your imperfections.
I could probably enjoy a plane crash if someone gave me a good backrub all the way down.

If I ever strike up a serious relationship with a Guy, I would like for him to be good at giving massages. It would make loving him considerably easier.

For a long time I denied myself the pleasure of getting massages. I was too self conscious.

Here’s why:

As you can see I drew a little circle on my back. It marks the spot where my T-shirt bulges slightly.

For the first 27 years of my life I had this strange little growth on my back. It was about the size of a pea. Although small compared to the rest of my body I resented it. It made me feel unattractive whenever a Guy was within visual range of my useless mutation.

Many times I tried cutting it off with a peeler. Operating on my own back in front of a mirror with a kitchen knife is not exactly Nobel Prize material. For starters I never bothered to think of sedation. I got my back to bleed this one time, but my growth remained. It had literally made its home on the one place my arms couldn’t reach.

So massages were never really my thing, knowing it would reveal my pea for the world to see.

Guy #46 insisted however.

Guy #46 understood that sex is infinitely more pleasurable when there’s personality involved. So although the format of our date was well established in advance, we did have a very good time getting to know each other, making ourselves comfortable and learning to embrace each other’s energy.

I was already completely at ease by the time Guy #46 pulled off my shirt and started to massage me. Before I could turn around to hide my cubic centimeter of bodily shame he said: ‘Oh look, you have a little thing there. How cute!’

It took me a few moments to absorb that. In my opinion Guy #46 was saying something like Oh, you listen to ‘N Sync. You have such good taste in music!
I explained how I had come to dislike my little growth, but Guy #46 maintained it didn’t bother him at all.

As luck would have it I was already in a fairly deep stage of relaxation when Guy #46 complimented me on my imperfection. Added to that he was good at giving massages.

For the first time in my life I surrendered my body completely, pea and all.

I’m sure the sex we had afterward was phenomenal. I don’t remember much of it. Me and my consciousness had drifted to another dimension. I don’t even remember what we did exactly. All I do remember is the feeling of letting go.

I think it was the feeling I had been chasing since Guy #1.

Guy #46 and I ended up having two dates. I got rubbed to heaven and back both times. I would have gone back for more, were it not for the fact I was weeks away from moving back to my home country.

As for my inoperable little stump, I had my doctor remove it about half a year later. He laughed when I told him I had tried to operate on myself.

I’m glad the doctor found a cure for my mutation, but strangely enough I never enjoyed a massage as much as I did those nights with Guy #46. Maybe he was that good.

Or maybe I’ve gotten used to letting go since then.

Relationship summary:

LENGTH: 2 x 2 hours
FORMAT: Sex dates
SEX SCORE (0 = Operating on yourself with a peeler <–> 10 = The best sex ever): 9.2

Guys #40, #41, #42, #43, #44 and #45 – To the moon and back…

Explorers are never in it for the destination.

Think about it. Neil Armstrong didn’t fly to the moon because it’s such a great place. Destinationwise, the moon is the last place anyone wants to end up.

It’s the same with parts of my sex life. For a while I was in it for the journey and not so much the destination.

So when my good friend and porn producer asked if I wanted to perform in a gay sauna, I accepted. It sounded like something my ego could enjoy.

The sauna’s owner had even made flyers for the occasion. Me and my whorish attitude were now being advertized in Toronto’s gay district. It was weird seeing my naked self on a flyer.

Of all my stories, I’m probably least proud of this one.

Lying naked in front of dozens of strange men who are also naked felt like being Neil Armstrong on the moon, without a space suit. Not the best destination.

As I was pretending to be aroused, I was wondering if a job in the sex industry would make me feel like I was floating in space naked. The emptiness of it all…

On the other hand, some of the guys that came by were not all that unattractive. In fact, the cute ones were allowed to do a little more than just watching. They would go down in history as Guys #40, #41, #42, #43, #44 and #45. Well, if I’m being honest Guy #40 was kind of cute. I allowed him to become a part of my performance. The other five Guys followed suit. They’re the reason I’m not so proud of this.

It’s difficult to strike a balance between inducing arousal and keeping people at a desired distance. I definitely succeeded in making Guys #41 through #45 aroused enough to cross the distance I wanted to keep them at.
A spacesuit would have made me feel better.

Still, while the moon is a desolate and lifeless rock it’s worth checking out. I was glad I did.

And after I was done performing me and Guy #40 did have a nice conversation in a whirlpool. I had landed back on Earth, where naked wasn’t so bad anymore.

When the owner gave me my check he complimented me on my performance. I had made people smile, or so I was told.

I got offered other gigs. At one time I was asked to participate in a live sex show on stage. I decided not to. I had been okay with being a product doing porn. Being a product for people to touch wasn’t my thing.

I’m okay with having the one memory of performing my sexuality in front of a live audience. It was another experience I was glad for having. I was also glad for not having to do it twice.

It’s not like Neil Armstrong ever went back to the moon.

Relationship summary:

LENGTH: One performance
FORMAT: Pretending arousal in exchange for money
SEX SCORE (0 = Sex that makes you want to wear a spacesuit <–> 10 = The best sex ever): 0.5

Guy #39 – The lie that was his selfie…

Selfies can be deceptive.

I’ve come across internet profiles from men that go by one and the same picture for years at an end. It’s because they only have that one picture in which they look good. I don’t trust profiles with only one picture.

Guy #39 taught me.

Guy #39 looked good in his selfie. I thought it would be greedy of me to ask for more pictures of him looking horny, but I now know my greed had motivated me to go on this date in the first place. I should have listened to my greed as one does on sex dates.

On the other hand I ended up liking the fact Guy #39 had deceived me into getting to know him.

We clicked. I found myself very comfortable with him. We laughed a lot.

We both knew his selfie was ten years old and heavily photoshopped. But it was okay. Lying is often part of a sex date.
In the end Guy #39 even told me he wished he was hot like he used to be. I guess that was his way of saying sorry for the lie that was his selfie.

Selfies are good for making us feel like we look good. I think I made Guy #39 feel he looked like his selfie again.

I was approaching 30 when I first started photoshopping myself. I was amazed by what the contrast button could do to my abs.

Though I’m hardly ever on dating sites these days I do update them every so often with my latest pictures of me looking bored into a mirror, holding up a phone, wearing a towel. It’s my way of letting people know I’m not a person with only one good picture.

Over the years my selfies have become increasingly beautiful. And increasingly deceptive. And as I grow older, I will stop uploading selfies every so often. If I stay single I might end up being a guy with only one selfie.

I wonder what my life would have been like had I come out sooner. I enjoyed the gay scene very much, but at times I wish hadn’t spent the first 24 years of my life being so afraid of it.

Then I might have met Guy #39 around the time his selfie was taken.

Relationship summary:

LENGTH: 2 hours
FORMAT: Sex date
SEX SCORE (0 = That one mosquito circling around your head when you’re trying to sleep <–> 10 = The best sex ever): 8.3

Guy #37 and #38 – And there was much embracing…

For reasons I won’t bother you with I attended church last Sunday.

As you might expect from a guy who writes a blog about all the 168 guys he’s ever had sex with, I don’t go to church often.

At first I felt very odd sitting among a hundred people who spend Sunday mornings in church. I’m more accustomed to spending Sunday mornings with the Guy I meet on Saturday evenings.

The service wasn’t all that bad, actually.

The pastor or whatever her title was spoke a lot about love. Love and guilt.

She encouraged her audience to embrace all their fellow people with love. She told us never to judge others for who they are or what they do. And then she read those verses about turning the other cheek.
She also mentioned that Jesus died for our sins, making me wonder if I had any.

I wondered if the story of Guy #37 and #38 would qualify as a sin to the lady preaching about what Jesus had done to make up for it.

I first met Guy #37 at his apartment. When he opened the door he immediately grabbed my hand and pulled it inside his pants which were already unzipped.

Guy #37 embraced me for sure, but not with love.

The second time I met Guy #37 was when he had also invited Guy #38. There was a lot of embracing that night, but very little love.

I never had one single line of dialogue with Guy #37. (Although I did have an obligatory conversation with Guy #38 when he gave me a ride back to my subway station. The conversation lasted long enough to discover we had absolutely nothing in common.)

When God told me to embrace my fellow men with love, this is not what He had in mind, was it? Does God really want me to treat sex as casually as a bag of chips?

I don’t think so. Sex is like a drug. We can use it recreationally, but we should never deny it the respect it earns.

I believe that’s what I did those two times I visited Guy #37’s apartment. It wasn’t love. It wasn’t sex. It wasn’t even lust. It was consumption. Emotionless greedy carnal consumption.

As I was pondering my sins someone came by with a little basket in which people were throwing money. I ended up throwing money in a basket three times last Sunday.

Did I pay the bill for those nights I consumed Guy #37 and Guy #38?

After the service the pastor lady was standing outside greeting people. It felt like exiting a plane and having to politely greet the cabin crew. This particular crew was holding a basket for my coins. I wonder when airlines are going to pick up on that.

When the pastor lady greeted me she did so with the most genuine of smiles, even before I had thrown any money in her basket.

She didn’t strike me as a person that would ever judge me for the things I’ve done. She would probably think of Guy #37 and #38 as a waste, not a sin.

And she’d be right. Sometimes you just have to say ‘No’ to drugs. It’s the same with sex. The moment someone greets you for the first time by pulling your hand to their hardware and starting to kiss you without even a proper ‘Hello’ and you feel the sex will be incredibly boring because you’re not allowed to know the person you’re doing it with, that’s the moment when you should say ‘No’ to drugs.

(Well, those and other moments.)

I think God and the pastor lady got through to me last Sunday. I deposited a well earned coin in their basket.

Relationship summary:

LENGTH: 15 minutes + 20 minutes with Guy #38
FORMAT: Sex date
SEX SCORE GUY #37 (0 = When Bambi’s mother got shot <–> 10 = The best sex ever): 6.5
SEX SCORE GUY #37 and #38 (0 = Bowling shoes <–> 10 = The Best sex ever): 5

Guy #35 – The virgin…

When I first met Guy #35 I assumed I meant a lot to him.

I was his first time with a guy.

I knew it’s never wise to have sex out of empathy, but I really felt I could give something to another human being. I had grown so comfortable with my own sexuality I considered it a gift to people. Or maybe I just felt sexually at ease in the presence of a virgin taking his first step out of the closet.

Guy #35 and I met in Toronto, but he took me to his home halfway to Niagara Falls. I enjoyed the train ride, also because it allowed me to take a nap. I hardly ever get a chance to do that on a first date.

Toward the end of our journey I woke up and initiated a conversation. Having a background in psychology however makes me inclined to ask intimate questions to total strangers without giving it a second’s thought. Whenever I’m with someone I want to get to know that someone, even on a sex date.

I got the impression Guy #35 liked me better when I was asleep. He clearly didn’t want to answer my questions about how lonely the closet can get when you’re the bearer of so many secrets or if he even enjoyed being gay.

I was going to have sex with Guy #35 out of empathy, so that’s what I gave him. I thought that’s what he needed, considering what my first time with a guy had been like.

The majority of my waking moments I spent comforting Guy #35, telling him he didn’t need to be nervous, that I wouldn’t force him to do anything he didn’t want to or how brave he was for making this step.

When we ended up at his place Guy #35 went straight to business. It’s common courtesy on sex dates to offer your guest a glass of water, but I was guided straight to a bed where we had sex. He was good.

He was good because he knew what he was doing.

The bastard.

I found my first guy through a dating service. It didn’t strike me as odd I could meet someone who was going through the exact same thing I had gone through. It never occurred to me people might advertize themselves as a virgin to up their market value. It had worked for me. Guy #35’s virginity was nothing but a marketing tactic and I had fallen for it.

I believe Guy #35 was more experienced than I was.

Karma did its work though:

My empathy gave me a nice nap and unexpected pleasant sex.
He got to have sex based on a lie, but he paid by having to live it. He must have had many guys before me. I was probably the only one that started acting like his therapist, asking him if he was okay with all the lies.

I was asking the right questions without even knowing it.

Bet that was a first for Guy #35.

Relationship summary:

LENGTH: 2 hours
FORMAT: 1:45 hours of unsollicited therapy, 15 minutes of sex
SEX SCORE (0 = When Dick Cheney shoots you in the face <–> 10 = The best sex ever): 8.2

Guy #34 – Hunter or prey…

In the gay scene it doesn’t really matter if you’re top or bottom. Hunter or prey, that’s the question.

Some go to gay saunas to hunt. Others go there to be hunted.

The ones that hunt walk around through barely lit areas filled with the occasional sound of humping men. Then there are the ones that preystitute themselves in strategic positions, waiting for their hunter to make a move whilst rejecting hunters they don’t find attractive.

I’ve always been a hunter, a hunter blessed with one superpower: I can sense when someone is into me. In a heartbeat. All I need is one second and I can tell if a person wants to have sex with me or not. I can even sense how much they want it.

Occasionally I will meet someone who I know wants to have sex with me. This happens to people all the time, but I am always aware when it happens. Even in the darkness of a gay sauna I can see that twinkle in people’s eyes when they like what they see.

In the case of Guy #34 I found myself in a sauna cabin crowded with a dozen hunters and one prey sitting silently on the top bench, naked and silently aroused. I sat down just within his personal space. I moved quickly and conquered his entire personal space in less than a minute. Guy #34 showed no visible reaction, physical or emotional, to anything I was doing. His enthusiasm was like that of a dead bird caught in the mouth of a bigger bird.

While I was starting to grow disappointed with my catch the other dozen hunters became aware of what was happening and wanted in on the fun.

Soon the entire sauna was all over Guy #34 and I found myself awkwardly entertaining his epicenter. Quickly everyone was in everybody’s space. I was turned off by the greediness of it, the way every hunter claimed Guy #34 as his rightful meal. It should be noted me and Guy #34 were the only ones not in our fifties or older.

I decided I didn’t want to have any part in what was happening. I got up and walked away, leaving Guy #34 to the mercy of a dozen hungry vultures. He continued allowing everyone as passively as he had allowed me. As I left the room I got a good look at his face for the first time. It was as static as blow-up doll.

I hope for Guy #34 he was into older men.

When I came by again some 15 minutes later Guy #34 was gone. What was left was the same pack I had left behind, each member quietly minding his own space again. I looked around for Guy #34, but I never saw or heard from him again.

It wasn’t really a good night for me. I had been rejected from a threesome earlier and now I had accidentally fed Guy #34 to the council of elders.

It’s not always easy being a hunter. It’s a setup for frequent failure if I’m being honest. Sure, occasionally you catch something you never want to let go off, but you always do somehow.

That’s why I believe a hunter should have faith in himself no matter what. It’s not about the failures. It’s about that one prey that would hunt you too.

A hunter has to stay positive: I’m a hunter with a superpower. I can sense when someone is into me.
In a heartbeat.

Or after I’ve seen their face. Or after people walk out of a threesome with me. It all depends really.

Relationship summary:

LENGTH: 3 or 4 minutes
FORMAT: Foreplay turned accidental sacrifice
SEX SCORE (0 = Pray the gay away <–> 10 = The best sex ever): 2

Guy #29, #30 and #31 – Another date, another Dollar…

At least I’m getting paid for this.

Those were my thoughts as I went through having sex with Guy #29, #30 and #31.

Thinking about money doesn’t make for great sex. I don’t think it made for a good movie either.

One day, in the summer of 2009, I shot three porn scenes in a hotel room in Toronto’s gay district.

Having sex three times a day is a lot of work.

Guy #29, my first colleague of the day, was by far the cutest. Our story was an inspiring one: The two of us had supposedly met in the lobby of our hotel and went from eying each other to having oral sex in a hotel room.

The sex with Guy #29 was actually fun. Both of us were enjoying it, despite the fact there were three guys filming us.

The thing is, those three guys wanted an hour of material. That meant I had to postpone the part people often fast forward to when watching porn, the money shot as it’s called.

Going a full hour of constant receptive oral sex without any money shooting requires a lot of concentration. I literally had to think of unsexy thoughts to prevent myself from climaxing.

When I finally was allowed to, I knew the hardest part of my day was over.

That was true in the sense that Guy #30, who I had to perform oral duties on half an hour later, was anything but hard. I suspected him of being a straight guy looking for a way to make money. He must have figured there are worse things than receiving oral sex for an hour.
I got the feeling he resented me. Or maybe he resented himself for doing gay porn and that sentiment echoed into his sexuality.

It was difficult acting excited when we both clearly weren’t. God knows what we were thinking back in the lobby, where we had supposedly met each other.

Going a full hour of having sex with someone who radiates nothing but resentment is nothing short of torture, even more so when it’s being filmed.

The only time Guy #30 and I felt the same was at the end, when we were both happy it was over.

Guy #31 entered the hotel room just as Guy #30 was leaving.

Guy #31 was by far the least attractive of the three. He was also the sweetest. I could tell he considered himself lucky he had supposedly met me in the lobby. With two money shots already on my score board it was very easy to postpone this one for as long as I needed it to.

Added to that, Guy #31 was good at his job.

I think it’s funny I ended up having the better sex with the one I deemed least attractive.

Still, doing porn is hard work. I was happy to have experienced it, but I was probably happier it would always be an adventure, never a career.

There’s just too many unsexy thoughts going on when you’re doing porn.

Relationship summary:

LENGTH: 3 x 1 hour
FORMAT: Collegial
SEX SCORE GUY #29 (0 = Thinking of Kim Jong-un during sex <–> 10 = The best sex ever): 7.5
SEX SCORE GUY #30 (0 = Picturing Kim Jong-un doing a lap dance <–> 10 = The best sex ever): 2
SEX SCORE GUY #31 (0 = ‘Kim Jong-un, is that a box of Pringles in your pants or are you happy to see me?’ <–> 10 = The best sex ever): 8

Guy #28 – Parking lot purgatory…

Nothing is quite as depressing as sex in a car on a parking lot in broad daylight.

First of all, most cars are not designed to have sex in. They’re an ergonomic disaster when it comes to intertwining your body with that of someone else. Second, I was constantly on the lookout for people who might see me, along with Guy #28’s head appearing in and out of view over my dashboard.

My date with Guy #28 was a complete disaster.

They say size doesn’t matter. Well, this guy’s penis was pretty much the complete absence of matter. It was tiny. When he unzipped his pants I was greeted by something best described as a socially phobic shrimp.

I found myself on a date with an Asian stereotype:

Guy #28 was completely submissive. That much became clear the moment I stepped into his car on what would be our first and only encounter.
“Hi, how are you doing? You look super! I’m so glad you could make it,” he said as if I was a long lost friend.
My first thought of him was that he didn’t look at all like the guy from the picture, although from a certain angle I could see how he had gone about Photoshopping himself.
He was good with computers.

When we drove off I assumed we were going to his place. After a while he told me he still lives with his parents. He wasn’t driving to his place. He was just driving. He asked if I knew of a place to go. I didn’t.

Our love nest would become a parking lot. In broad daylight.

I wasn’t proud of myself for having sex on a parking lot in broad daylight. It’s not that we got caught or that I never did it again, but the size of Guy #28’s penis made me realize how my ruthless pursuit of sex had sunk my standards. It was ridiculous of me to agree to sex on a parking lot with someone I wasn’t comfortable sharing a space with.

To make things worse Guy #28 was unbelievably passionate. He acted as if we were lovers, while in reality we were just two guys with nothing in common except their time on Craigslist. I couldn’t stand Guy #28’s drama.

I came quickly. I had trouble thinking happy thoughts when I did, but I figured it would be the quickest way to end this ordeal.

At first I was relieved the sex was over. Then Guy #28 asked if I wanted to go have coffee with him. It should be noted it’s not customary to go for coffee after anonymous hook-ups on a parking lot.
I really wanted my date to drop me off at my subway station, but he was already parking his car in front of Starbucks when he dropped the question.

Being with Guy #28 must be what purgatory is like.

All I wanted was to be released from my date, who kept on saying how super happy he was to have met me and how he really wanted to be my friend.
The parking lot sex had evaporated his initial shyness. Now he was constantly telling me how super I was.

Then came the moment Guy #28 ran into two of his girlfriends. I’m not entirely sure their sudden appearance was a coincidence: Guy #28 stopped sending messages on his phone the moment his hags entered the scene. Guy #28 couldn’t believe his luck he was surrounded by so much people to not feel lonely with.

I was loathing myself however. I had to make small talk with the friends of someone who had just given me a blowjob in his car.

I felt like hitting Guy #28 when he ordered himself a second latte. I wanted to go back home, away from my date’s desperate attempts at having company.

I socially obligated my way through Guy #28’s friends for a good half hour. His clinginess became increasingly annoying. At times I got the impression he was pretending to be my boyfriend.

When we finally ended up back in his car we went to another parking lot, this one belonging to my subway haven. I nodded Guy #28 goodbye the moment we got there. He asked if I was going to call him. I told him I would think about that. He said it was making him so sad I had to go. I told him he would get over it.

As I grabbed the door handle Guy #28 put his arms around me and started to cry.
“Please don’t go. I like you so much,” he cried. I told him he had just given me a blowjob on a parking lot and that it was to be the extent of our relationship.

He cried over my impending absence the way North Koreans cry over the death of a Supreme Leader. It was unbearably awkward. In the end I had to pull myself out of Guy #28’s arms. I left him crying in his car.

I’m not saying sex dates are a bad thing, but I do find it interesting you often encounter a lot of loneliness on a sex date.

For what it’s worth Guy #28 has my sympathy. But when your penis is that small and you are incredibly needy, dependent and insecure, it might not be wise to find love in random strangers on a parking lot. In a way I may have taught him that by slamming the door in his crying face.

For his sake I’d like the world to be a place where penis size is irrelevant, but that’s not the case. Stats are an important part of our culture. As is Photoshop. Or parking lots for that matter.

Or post-orgasmic self loathing.

But maybe that’s just me.

Relationship summary:

LENGTH: 2 hours
FORMAT: 10 minute drive, 5 minute blowjob, 90 minute latte, 15 minute farewell
SEX SCORE (0 = Room 101 <–> 10 = The best sex ever): 0.5

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 #24 – What’s love got to do with it?

Over the years I’ve come to the conclusion there’s no such thing as just sex. I met some gay people who seem slightly offended when I suggest their latest dark room encounter has a lot of value for them somehow.

For some reason people have trouble embracing the fact that people you have sex with are meaningful.

Sure, I’ve had sex that felt meaningless and empty, but that didn’t make it less of an experience.
Of all the guys I’ve ever been with, Guy #24 is the one that came closest to being just sex.

He was my second audition.

I believe people who work in the porn industry are shamelessly underappreciated for their efforts. It requires a lot of concentration to play your part on Guy #24 when Guy #23 is lying in between your legs with his camera pointed upward.

Guy #24 was my dress rehearsal.

It did not go well.

I could go into detail about how things went down, but the jist of it is that I was strongly advised to take some Viagra on the actual set, which I would later found out was just another word for ‘hotel room’.

While I never regretted the experience, it did strike me how bad I was at sex when it was just about sex. It was weird to be intimate and professional at the same time.

At the time I wanted to believe just sex was a thing. I intensely enjoyed the lack of commitment I was feeling. I was quite literally like a bee hopping from flower to flower, in a city full of flowers.

About a week after my encounter with Guy #24 I spoke to the producer, Guy #23, on the phone. Guy #24 happened to be in the room with him and gave him on the phone, suggesting we had established some kind of bond or something. Our conversation was as short as it was awkward. It turned out that we had in fact made some kind of connection, but I wasn’t ready to accept the commitment attached to it.

I think a lot of gay guys have this problem. It’s why they like to believe there is such a thing as just sex.

There isn’t. Not even when you’re doing porn.

Relationship summary:

LENGTH: One audition
FORMAT: Test drive
SEX SCORE: (0 = Ann Coulter <–> 10 = The best sex ever): 4,5

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

Girl #2 – Xenia Onatopp…

Girl #2 was a stripper.

What was a gay guy such as myself doing in a strip club with girl strippers, you might ask.

Well, I for one never intended to meet a Brazilian stripper that night. At the time I worked for a media company and the owner of a strip club so happened to be one of my clients. He had invited me and my boss to his club to discuss stationary.
We discussed stationary, and then the owner invited us for a drink in his club, which incidentally had naked women dancing on stage.
It never occurred to me to say ‘no’. I actually rather welcomed the experience.

I figured there would only be minimal interaction between me and any kind of strippers.

I never knew it was common for strippers to randomly pull audience members such as myself onto their stage. I also didn’t know it was common for a stripper to undress me in front of my client, my boss and about a hundred strange men. I’m still not sure if this is common practice at strip clubs.

I hope it is.

It was fun. Frightening, but fun.

Not fun in the sense that it was erotic. Just in the sense that it was fun to be living the wild life. I had lost my virginity barely two years earlier at age 24. Now here I was, lying underneath a big breasted stripper who was riding me like Xenia Onatopp.

That actually hurts like hell on a wooden stage.

Still, I totally admired how Girl #2 exerted total control over me. Stripping is not an easy job, but she was good at it. Had I been straight, I probably would have been very attracted to her.

Of course it was almost unbearingly unpleasant to get my underwear torn off in front of my boss and a client, not in the least bit because I just so happened to be wearing my oldest and absolute unsexiest bit of leftover garment around my waist.

Yet as I lay there, quite literally butt naked, I couldn’t help but feel I had achieved something. I had stopped being that person that had been so religiously afraid of the unknown for so long. Instead, I was at the mercy of a stripper. By the time she started to ride me I was starting to understand how people break hips.
By living.

After Girl #2 had finished her show, I was left on stage, trying to find back my clothes just as the lights went out. I managed to get dressed pretty quickly, although my underwear had been completely destroyed. I was forced to go commando for the remainder of the night. And my boss knew about it.

Yet in a way I was happy I got to see a beautiful woman in a way I never expected to see a woman ever again. Girl #2 had sensed I was gay, or so the owner told me afterward. I guess that had made me an easy target, but I would like it if strippers really do commonly pull men on their stage to wreak havoc on their underwear for the world to see.

I wish it upon any stripper to have that kind of power over their audience, as Girl #2 did with me.

Relationship summary:

LENGTH: One song
FORMAT: Striptease act
SEX SCORE (0 = Can’t getting a Taylor Swift song out of your head <–> 10 = The best sex ever): 3.5

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 #18 – Sexual fast food…

The first time Guy #18 kissed me his mouth swallowed my lips like a hungry octopus. It wasn’t good.
The last time he kissed me it was like floating through space and feeling at home at the same time. It was considerably better.

In fact, all the things Guy #18 and I did were awful the first time we did them. And sexually speaking, we did a lot of things, for a long time, a lot of times.

Of all the 168 guys I’ve ever been with one way or another, Guy #18 is the guy I’ve been with the most.

Sometimes I wish it wasn’t so.

You see, Guy #18 thought the moon is a planet, among other things. It would be easy to say his IQ was barely a two digit number, but then again, that’s what Guy #18 was all about for me: Ease.

For years at an end, Guy #18 was someone I could call whenever I was in the mood for him, as if he were a pizza. He always showed up at my doorstep in thirty minutes or less.
As time progressed, so did our sex. Some of my life’s hottest and most intimate moments occurred in the sole presence of Guy #18. He was my sexual fast food. And it tasted better each time I ordered take-out.

“I love you,” he would often tell me.
“You don’t even know me,” I would reply as I made sure his mouth was engaged in something that wasn’t talking.

I would eventually realize that Guy #18 and I did in fact have a very strong and meaningful connection, albeit a one-dimensional one. Our relationship was flat like a pizza. It was just about sex, increasingly magnificent and mind blowing sex.

The only way we knew how to communicate was by way of having sex. In that sense, Guy #18 and I had some of the best conversations humanly possible. Words just weren’t a part of it.

Guy #18’s stupidity was surpassed only by my selfishness. I figure it was on account of his low IQ that he allowed me to treat him like a pizza over and over again. I never took him seriously. Part of me even embraced the fact that I could get ever increasingly awesome sex without the risk of getting hurt. Call me heartless, but people who believe the moon is a planet can’t hurt me or my feelings.

Enjoyable as fast food can be, no one wants to eat pizza every day, except maybe people who think the moon is a planet. I always knew Guy #18 would get to see me and my life from the sideline. He would always be disposable. I was never loyal, meaning I went from Guy #19 all the way through Guy #130 during the time Guy #18 was a part of my life.

As it turns out I ended up hurting Guy #18 quite a lot, though I’d like to think he also found true happiness in me, the way I found true happiness in him. True, honest, one-dimensional happiness.

The thing is, even though Guy #18 thinks the moon is a planet, I do love him. I’ve come to love his sexuality, which constitutes an important part of anyone’s personality. On the one dimension we did find each other, we came to know each other through and through.
He was quicker to acknowledge his feelings than I was.

Guy #18 definitely outsmarted me there.

Relationship summary:

LENGTH: ± 5/6 years
FORMAT: Highly intermittent love relationship based on nothing but sex somehow
SEX SCORE: (0 = A vibrator that runs on diesel <–> 10 = The best sex ever): 9.5