The Hardest Part of Hooking Up

Allow me to preface my second-ever blog post by saying that I’m already a little addicted.  The more I read about the lives of strangers, the more I’m overcome with the kind of concern and fascination I usually reserve for myself and the Kardashians.  This could be dangerous.  I can see myself a year from now wearing the same pajamas for days at a time, laying in bed — MacBook on lap — and rapidly gaining weight while living only vicariously through the blogosphere as I guzzle half-melted Ben & Jerry’s pints and eventually have to be removed from my bedroom via crane.

Then I remember that blogging is two-sided and if I want people to read about my life, it would help to have one.  Which brings us to this past weekend.

  • Note: all names mentioned herein have been changed to protect privacy.

In my inaugural post, I half-seriously mentioned something about “exhausting Nashville’s two gay bars.”  I half-ended up at one of said bars at about 10:00 pm on Friday night.

The last time I went to this establishment, I was approached by and spent two hours in conversation with Brian — an attractive and charismatic black thirtysomething contractor in town for 24 hours on business.  Eventually we were making out in a dark hallway in the back of the bar when he tried to get me to go back to his hotel room.

Enter my puritanical inhibitions.  While promiscuity is as natural for most gay men as, say, listening to Madonna or breathing, I am cursed with what I refer to out loud as “self-respect.”  Really I’m just too insecure, prone to developing feelings, and — most of all — deathly afraid of any and all STD’s.  I blame my Connecticut education and Google Images.

I tried to drunkenly convey my concerns to Brian.  He assured me he was clean and equipped with protection.  Still, I was apprehensive.  To my surprise, he was super understanding and offered a completely-on-my-own-terms hookup, saying we can do as much as I’m comfortable with and nothing more.  In the heat of the moment, I said no — opting instead to go home and eat a Fiber One bar while watching Chelsea Lately interviews on Youtube and Googling ex-boyfriends.

I’m so used to saying no in these situations that he probably could have offered to Saran-wrap his entire body before it came into any contact whatsoever with mine — and I still would’ve declined just out of comfort.

                          My life as printed on a women’s baby tee. (cafepress.com)

Back to Friday.

This time around, I decided that I needed to be more open-minded.  Along comes Martin — a forty-year-old UPS driver who lives here in Nashville.  I had previously sworn off much older men after a debacle in 2008 involving a ridiculous ex named Jose, but Martin had it goin’ on.  Masculine, tan, in better physical shape at 40 than I am at 23… generally tall, dark, and handsome.

  • Sidenote: Martin’s real-life first name is actually the same as my dad’s.  God’s sense of humor disturbs me.

Our conversation was filled with just the right amount of intellect and inappropriateness.  After sharing that he donates to charity and plays in a rugby league on the weekends, I was pretty much ready to introduce him to my entire extended family.  And/or bear his children.

We made out a little, manhandled each other, and exchanged numbers.  Despite the intense physical chemistry, there was no one-night-stand pressure.  It was wonderful.  Now, three days later, a big part of me really wants to see him again… if only I could find a way to reconcile my coital needs with my previously-mentioned neuroses.

I texted my best friend Felicity to get her advice:

ME: I made out with a hot older man the other night.  I think I may give him my flower if we ever meet again.

FELICITY: Keep calling it your flower and no one is ever gonna take it.

Not helpful, but this is why we’re friends.  Major props to anyone who gets the 90’s sitcom reference!

In any case, the sad truth is that it may be ultimately impossible for me to sleep with Martin in a way that I could ever be completely comfortable with. I’m the kind of square whose prerequisites for rolling around naked in bed with someone include things like being in a committed relationship.  And I’m fully aware that I could never have that with someone who:

  • Lives 900 miles away
  • Is almost 20 years older than me
  • Responds to my texts of “What are you up to tonight?” with “supposed to go to a bday party.. unless u want sex.”

Yes, please!  If only.

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Comments

  1. From a straight mans perspective…completely and utterly fascinating. Great post.

  2. Nick, I truly, truly love your blog and how you write. I know you’ve only posted like twice, but I really enjoy your writing and what you share.

    What you state here is an opinion and view on sex it really seems like very few share. I am one of the few. You have my utter respect for holding onto it. I know you will find a decent guy you’ll willingly and without a shadow of a doubt give him “your flower.” You’re still young and you got your whole life in front of you. Don’t rush it.

    PS: I got a Monica in F.R.I.E.N.D.S de ja vu. Intentional? 😉

    • I so appreciate this comment! As you could probably tell, I sometimes wish I didn’t have such limiting standards — but ultimately I guess it’s a good thing that we hold out for good, STD-free men 🙂

      and YES! I’m so glad someone got the Monica reference. Mission accomplished!

  3. Absolutely, I’m glad there exist such people on this often godforsaken planet still. In fact, I’m planning on writing about this subject myself one of these days; this blog post inspired me even more. Thank you!

    And Monica FTW! 😉

  4. Omg, your friend Felicity is HIGHlarious! Not to toot my own horn…

  5. LOVE the shirt, substitute Idaho and ya got me!

  6. Fantastic post. I am also one of the few. We are a dying breed.

    • Thanks for the comment! I’m so glad people are identifying with these thoughts rather than calling me frigid, lol.

  7. I think we are far from frigid. Just sensible and careful.

  8. I had to leave a comment just because of the awesome title – you’re a great writer – and as a New Englander, I get the CT thing 🙂

    • Thanks so much! I really appreciate the read and comment… And so glad you can relate to this on that New England level, lol.

  9. I feel like you are the gay male version of me! Everything you said is exactly how I act and feel… the blog addictions, the Friends references, down to the internal argument over wanting to romp and having those damn standards that prevent you from doing it. (except Im not from Connecticut.)
    I adore you. You write incredibly and I cant wait to read more!

    • The fact that you can relate on all those levels means I already love you. Thanks so much for the comment, darlin’!

  10. one night stands are like the reeses pieces of relationships: no matter how many you have, they never add up to an actual peanut butter cup.

    I’m not sure what I was getting at… but apparently it’s important for me to include in my comments whatever it is that I’m shoving into my kisser at that exact moment.

    • Haha — that made PERFECT sense. Especially because I too can often be found shoving reeses pieces into my mouth and/or conjuring up obscure metaphors.

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  5. […] in Nashville, and I found myself back at the gay bar where I met the blogged-about older hottie Martin over two weeks […]

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