Month: January 2015

Sunday, September 29th, 2013 (Part 2)

Sugarland has this crazy atmosphere of grunge and lights. It’s kind of a mix between bar and club. They have a fun dance floor and that’s where we went after getting our first round of drinks. A drag queen was just finishing up her show, killing it as she sang along to Whitney Houston.

The bar was dark. And foggy. I could hardly see anyone’s face. Which made it hard to find and pick a decent guy to hit on. (You know how picky I am.) You were still the last guy I’d kissed, and I think I went into the night hoping for a nice dance floor make-out. I definitely didn’t have plans on bringing anyone home with me. I had a “no-one-night-stands” resolution.

However, thinking and doing are completely different things.

At one point in the later part of the evening, Mitchell C headed to the bathroom, leaving Mitchell F and I dancing alone. One thing led to another as we closed the distance between us, our bodies touching now, our faces inches apart. I remember feeling in control in that moment, thinking that I had the power to let the night continue at its normal pace or send it careening in an entirely new direction. With whiskey on my breath and coursing through my bloodstream, I hazarded toward the exciting, unknown path and closed the distance between our lips.

It was somewhat sloppy, making out with Mitchell F. I was drunk. He was drunk. We were dancing in a gay bar in Brooklyn at 3AM. Could I really expect more? It wasn’t you I was kissing. Even at our drunkest, we didn’t have sloppy kisses. But Mitchell F was a good substitute. A good first after you kiss.

Then Mitchell C reappeared and swiftly broke us up. I’m not sure why he was so against it. I guess two friends making out can be hard to handle, especially when you’re stranded in Brooklyn and don’t want to be a third wheel.

We ended up staying at Sugarland for another thirty minutes and then decided to head home to Manhattan.

That’s not where the night’s story ends, though.

As you can probably guess, the L train was not an option, at least not for three drunk guys at 3:30AM. We weren’t about to wait nineteen minutes for it to take us all of three stops. So we climbed out of the subway station and took a cab instead, deciding to get out at Union Square where we could get trains home. We all lived in different places – Mitchell C on the West Side, Mitchell F in Astoria and me on the East Side. Mitchell C was drunker than I thought and actually threw up out the cab window as we drove. He managed to keep it all outside of the cab, so props to him.

When we got out at Union Square, Mitchell C headed toward the 1 train. Mitchell F said he was going to take the 6 and then transfer at 59th to get a train to Astoria. And this is how I really knew Mitchell C was drunk. The train to Astoria runs through Union Square. While the 6 train was what I needed to take to get home. I knew what was happening, but Mitchell C didn’t seem to have a clue as he said good night and left us to go find his 1 train. Mitchell F followed me down to the 6 train and we confirmed he was coming back to my apartment.

We had six minutes to wait for the next train, six minutes in which we stood there on the subway platform at Union Square and made out like one of those obnoxious PDA couples. Mitchell F kept grabbing my ass and sliding his fingers under my shirt. I think I must have been less drunk than him because I felt uncomfortable with all the PDA, like everyone else on the platform was watching and judging us. Not that there were that many other people on the platform at 4AM. But in the moment, I wanted to have sex with him (I think I thought it would help me with getting over you), so I went along with it. When the train came, we hopped on and made our way up to my apartment. Luckily we got seats, so the PDA was minimized on the ride.

But even when we got off the train and had a ten-minute walk to my apartment, Mitchell F couldn’t keep his hands off me. He kept stopping me in the middle of the sidewalk to push me against whatever building, fence or gate was nearby so he could make-out with me some more. I had to pee like no other, and I kept trying to get him to continue moving. We were already so close.

Finally we did make it to my apartment and I did get to pee. Then, I had sex with my first guy since you.

It wasn’t bad sex. But it wasn’t great sex, either. A nice neutral five or six. I’m not really a fan of drunken sex. Most of the neutrality I think was my fault. I’ve topped you for the last year and a half, so to get back to bottoming was uncomfortable. My legs aren’t limber; I can’t bend them up to my head. My ass was about as tight as tight could be. (Mitchell F didn’t seem to mind this, though.) And my endurance was not so great.

But I managed to remember how to bottom. Though I don’t have any moves to speak of. And I didn’t last very long. I’m sure Mitchell F was disappointed. But that’s life. Especially when I’ve been having sex with you for so long. I know what you like. And there was passion in our sex. Not just lust or carnality or whatever you want to call it. Sex when it’s meaningful is so much better.

We finished up around five and headed to bed. I was super exhausted and couldn’t wait to fall asleep. But I didn’t sleep well at all. I kept waking up throughout the night. Mitchell F had the bad habit of sleeping in the middle of the bed (you know how I like having my own side, how I have trouble falling asleep if someone’s touching me), forcing me to curl up into a cramped third of my full-size mattress. Not comfortable. And it was hot and I kept having to get out of bed to go and pee.

Then when I did finally get to sleep, I dreamed of you. And it made me not want to wake up. I dreamed we were waiting together at a bus stop, one of those dusty, middle of nowhere ones out west. And you were making out with me just like Mitchell F and I had been doing earlier that night. We weren’t getting back together or anything; we made that perfectly clear in our dream dialogue. We were enjoying ourselves, enjoying the loving and familiar touch of each other. We were waiting for the bus to come so we could go back to your place to fuck.

The bus never came, though. We never got on. We never had sex. But we made out at that station for a while, feeling each other’s muscles, probing beneath our shirts and pants. There was a frenzied passion to it and I tried to stay emerged in my dream. I wanted to hold onto you in that sexual moment for as long as I could.

And then I woke up. Missing you while I had another guy still asleep in my bed.

Mitchell F left around ten that morning. It was a fun enough night, but I was happy to see him go. I’ve been kicking myself all day that I didn’t stick to my “no-one-night-stand” resolution. And not because I’m upset that I had sex with Mitchell F or that it wasn’t amazing sex. I’m upset that I can’t keep promises I make to myself. I’ve really got to work on that. And despite physically moving on to someone else, I’m more wrapped up with your memory than before.

I’ve now had sex with nine guys total in my life. That’s penetrative sex. I’m not counting blow jobs or hand jobs or anything in this number. For the longest time I thought I’d be stuck at eight. But now I’m realizing that I am going to get into double digits, after all.

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Sunday, September 29th, 2013 (Part 1)

I went out in Brooklyn last night. I’d never been to the gay bars out there. I’m exploring new parts of the City now that we’re not together. I’m avoiding Hell’s Kitchen, if you couldn’t guess. It’s not that I’m scared of running into you or your friends; it’s just that I’m not ready for that. Branching out has been good for me, though. And that’s why I planned a night out in Brooklyn, hitting up Sugarland for the very first time.

I had planned on it being a big night out with all my gay friends. I was supposed to meet up with Thurgood and some of his friends. And I was going to see if Jeremy, Scott and Mitchell C wanted to come. Unlucky for me, Thurgood had to cancel last minute. He had a friend’s birthday party to go to. And then Jeremy was in Chicago for a wedding and Scott had his entire family, including his little niece and nephew, visiting for the weekend. That left Mitchell C and me. But I wasn’t about to let the night go to waste. So we went out, the two of us with another of Mitchell C’s friends, Mitchell F, tagging along.

I’ve met Mitchell F before, a skinny, pale guy. Cute in a twink-ish kind of way. Funny. It was a good group, the three of us. We hopped on the L train at midnight and headed to Brooklyn.

When we got to Sugarland, I didn’t really know what to expect. They had a five dollar cover which is kind of lame. But not too expensive. So we paid and went inside. It was almost dead, though. I guess 12:30AM was too early to get there. We’d gotten our wrists stamped already, though, so we decided to head over to Metropolitan for a few drinks. It’s another gay bar in Brooklyn, only a few blocks away  from Sugarland. It has more of a bar vibe to it. They have a backyard patio area which is great on warmer nights and it was way more crowded when we got there around 12:45.

I don’t remember most of what the Mitchells and I talked about. Pretty normal stuff about work and boyfriends and drugs and sex and life in general. I hadn’t seen Mitchell C for a few weeks, so we had plenty to catch up on.

One conversation does stand out to me, though. We were talking about ex-s (surprise surprise). I mentioned that I felt I was starting to get over you now that it’s been a month and a half. And it’s partially true. I still swing back and forth about you, my feelings dependent on the day. Some days I’m still hung up on you and can’t imagine ever moving on to find someone else. While other days I get excited at the prospect of finding someone new. (It’s like this song that I’ve been listening to on a lot of my runs. It’s called Tether by CHVRCHES. There’s a line that the repeat a few times in it. And depending on how I’m feeling, I hear it as either “I feel incapable of seeing the end” or “I’m feelin’ capable of seeing the end.” I’ve listened to it so many times and my mind still plays tricks on me, hearing it both ways. I’ve never looked it up, though. I rather like the ambiguity, and what it says about my mood when I hear it.)

I don’t know. It’s this weird vortex I’m caught in. And I expect I’m going to be stuck in it for a while.

Having no idea about the normal timeline for getting over an ex-, I was encouraged to hear both Mitchells think a month and a half a very short time to get over you. Michell F said he’d taken seven months to get over his last relationship, and he had been the one to end things. Then Mitchell C said he still isn’t completely over his ex-. And they broke up like three years ago.

I like having this perspective. I realize that getting over you isn’t something I need to rush through. That it’s something I can do while I also get on with my life. And yes, some days will be better than others, but in the long-run it’ll get less painful as each week passes.

After we spent about an hour at Metropolitan, we decided we’d go back and try Sugarland again. We already had our hands stamped, after all. We couldn’t waste that five dollars. And we figured it would have picked up considerably, which it had.

Saturday, September 28th

I watched an Oklahoma State football game today. Well, more of hate-watched it.

(This hate-watching doesn’t reflect my feelings towards you, it’s just the easiest way to describe my reasons for watching. I wasn’t there specifically to root against your team, but to support my girl friend Kristen’s team. She went to West Virginia. Your alma maters were playing each other. But don’t think this was a spur of the moment thing. Right after you’d broken up with me, I’d made plans to watch the game with her, knowing your two schools would play eventually since they’re in the same conference. Back then, I probably would have really been hate-watching, savoring each interception and sack. Whereas now, I’m really just watching to have an excuse to hang out with some friends, watch some good football and load up on wings and beer.)

Oklahoma State is ranked and supposed to destroy West Virginia, so my expectations weren’t high going into the game. But with football you never know what’s going to happen. That’s why they have to play every game.

This was the first OSU game that I’ve seen in over a year. You were a big fan, it being your alma mater and all, but not rabid. Not like your roommate. You didn’t have to watch every weekend. You did take me to watch a game once, thought. The opener last year.

As with most big schools, there’s a designated Oklahoma State sports bar in New York City. Brother Jimmy’s shows some of my college’s gams (not that they’re worth watching). You former-Cowboys had the Stillwater bar down in the East Village. That’s where we went to watch the game with your roommate Tyler, a die-hard fan (die-hard in that he physically yells at computer and TV screens when the Cowboys aren’t winning and bangs loudly on tables) who really does bleed orange, as well as your friend Aaron. Fortunately, Aaron also did not go to Oklahoma State, so I wasn’t the only non-alum in attendance.

That day I watched with you, Oklahoma State played against Savannah State, a team that didn’t stand a chance. You all trounced them eighty-four to nothing. We ate fried bar food and drank this citrusy cocktail that you said was a staple in Stillwater. I can’t think of the name of it and my exhaustive internet search has come up with nothing. But you know what I’m talking about. It was good, if a bit too sweet. It was really lime-y and kind of the consistency of a slushy. Apparently it’s the big drink in Oklahoma State on game days, though.

You also taught me all the Oklahoma State fan rituals and fight song. I had a field day waving my arms in the air (performing the waving wheat) for every first down. Though it took me a solid fifteen first downs to get it right.

We never went back after that first game. Like I said, you’re a fan but not die-hard like your roommate Tyler. I imagine you weren’t watching the game today, though. It was at noon and you don’t have cable at your apartment. I’m sure you slept through most of it. But you might have heard Tyler watching it. I imagine there was a lot of screaming at the computer screen. And he might even have broken something in your apartment because it wasn’t pretty for Cowboys fans.

West Virginia ended up pulling off a huge upset, winning 30-21. Kristen could hardly contain herself. OSU was ranked #11 in the country and WVU wasn’t supposed to stand a chance. It was a great win! And great fun to watch.

I’m not going to lie: it felt good to see Oklahoma State lose. And even better that it came at the hands of my good friend’s alma mater. Better luck next year.