One morning I text my local boy to say hi.
We made the usual chit chat that's become more and more flirtatious. I've still got that little flutter in my stomach and a smile that slips onto my face every now and then. In short, I've got a huge crush on this guy.
My phone buzzes and I pick it up, expecting to see another cute message from him. Instead, my heart falls nearly as low as my jaw sags.
"So...I have to be 100% honest with you, since you're a really really nice guy...but I have a bf."
Fuck. Off.
Really?
I mean, really God? I do hope someone out there is getting a laugh at my continual expense.
After a minute or two of hearing ringing in my ears and grasping for something to say, he sends another message. "Please don't hate me"
So I do the gentlemanly thing, and tell him I'm happy for him and hope that we can still work on a friendship since it's nice to actually meet someone new in small-town-bum-fuck-nowhere. Oh and by the way, why didn't you tell me this when I asked you fucking out?
"Well I was going to say something but my bf is a huge asshole, he's a gym nut and really jealous."
Again, lacking in the logic department, this answer seemed as good as any. The subtext was simple: I'm having fun flirting with you because I can't stand my boyfriend but that's all there's ever going to be between us.
Most of the day passes and I'm still walking around harbouring a bit of hurt. Not hurt so much as let down. For whatever reason, I'd finally met someone practically in my backyard. And we have chemistry. And he's crazy cute. Like the non-cynic that I am (when it comes to love, anyway) I thought that maybe this guy would be different, not screwed up by a life in the city, a million one night stands, cheating boyfriends and all the baggage that most people seem to be carrying around. I just hoped he was different.
How wrong I was.
Things continue to get more complicated. Apparently the boyfriend also lives in said town. What a hoot to discover not one, but TWO local gays! Laws of averages dictate they inevitably should be a couple, or at least according to him.
Strangely, the flirting from him continues. He texts nonstop for the rest of the day, saying things that made me blush and wonder just how serious he is with this other guy. Hope springs again as I fantasize about the possibility he's not committed and that maybe we'll have a shot at things.
I visit him one afternoon and arrive just moments before another friend of his. As he's distracted taking a phone call, she leans over and whispers in my ear, "Steal him away from that asshole!"
Jesus, not only does he sound like he hates his boyfriend, the rest of the world apparently does as well.
It continues over the next couple of days, and I start getting a little more uncomfortable with our textual banter. My ethics start up with a vengeance as I realize that his sexual innuendo could actually lead to something. I don't want to be the 'other guy' in the scenario because I respect myself too much to play that part as much as I respect that his boyfriend doesn't deserve being cheated on. And besides, I don't want to be the 'other guy', I want to be the 'guy'.
Just as I'm about to go for coffee with him and inform him of my principals and tell him I won't go beyond just talking to him, he texts me. His boyfriend snooped on his phone and saw all that had been said back and forth.
My drama-alarm goes off and I get the sinking feeling that this whole thing just really isn't worth it.
The boyfriend called him a whore and a slut, they got into a huge fight, it went on forever...and they decided to stay together.
Ok, now I'm officially done. With one last long message telling him that I suppose all we're meant to be is friends, and how I hoped his boyfriend appreciated him, and how nice it must be for him to be so in love with a guy he calls an asshole, I bury any remaining thoughts of what could have been.
We're still texting now and then, and I suppose we're working on the whole friendship thing, but I'm more than a little discouraged about the whole affair. All my hoping that dating outside the city would be relatively drama-free and that the local guys would be genuinely both moral and non-cynical has more or less evaporated. Apparently no matter where you are, the gay baggage that bogs down so many relationships still exists.
After a good weekend of venting to a few friends, I feel better about the whole thing and can pretty much laugh it off. But I'm always going to remember the first guy I almost-dated back home, and what a disaster the whole thing was.
(Stupidly) This doesn't mean I've given up on the idea of a straight-shooting country boy.
Monday, January 17, 2011
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Local love story (Part 1)...
I met a boy in town.
I've been living at my parents since the big breakup a few months ago, which means a life back in the sticks, far away from culture and other gays. Not that it's a big deal, but just kind of a fact-of-life out here.
But recently I made the acquaintance of a guy who works in town and is most definitely gay. And not only that, I found myself strangely, naturally drawn to him. Not out of necessity or neediness, mind you, but simply out of a natural attraction.
So I've visited him a couple times, and we've talked and flirted and found we get along famously. He's got a wicked grin and is quite possibly the cutest guy I've ever chatted up (mostly because I'm so damn shy about that, but anyway...). There's a spark between us, sexual and personal.
He also happens to be my age, which gives us a lot of common ground, both coming from the same area and both being gay. We've talked at length about growing up in a neighborhood where gay is still taboo and compared notes on how he's survived living out here while I up and left for the big city.
For him, living out here hasn't treated him too poorly. In contrast to me, who's never officially met anyone the least bit gay in the area, his experience has been plentiful, with many a homo chatting him up. "Mostly while their wives or girlfriends are out of hearing range," he said with a grimace. While indeed the closeted non-urban gay isn't a rare creature, he seems to have brought them out of the woodwork.
So I summed up the parts to ask for his number, and he gave it to me.
I think this is the first time on record that I've asked someone out face-to-face. I giddily drove home and started planning what we could do in a town with as many cows as people.
What surprises me most about this is how ready I am to just have some fun with somebody. It's been so long since I've felt that spark of something new, the fluttering in your stomach that just won't seem to fade. I'm not looking for an instantly-serious-fall-in-love scenario, but I feel like I deserve to have some fun with someone I genuinely click with.
What surprises me even more is how flattering this guy is to me! I've never been called cute and handsome so many times. It's a damn fine feeling to receive compliments like that, mainly because I have a hard time grasping that someone could possibly feel that draw for me.
So everything has been sunshine and daisies, and I've put myself out there with the hopes of reaping a reward.
But something happens that puts a cloud in the sky and sends me into an ever-more confusing spiral of circumstance...
I've been living at my parents since the big breakup a few months ago, which means a life back in the sticks, far away from culture and other gays. Not that it's a big deal, but just kind of a fact-of-life out here.
But recently I made the acquaintance of a guy who works in town and is most definitely gay. And not only that, I found myself strangely, naturally drawn to him. Not out of necessity or neediness, mind you, but simply out of a natural attraction.
So I've visited him a couple times, and we've talked and flirted and found we get along famously. He's got a wicked grin and is quite possibly the cutest guy I've ever chatted up (mostly because I'm so damn shy about that, but anyway...). There's a spark between us, sexual and personal.
He also happens to be my age, which gives us a lot of common ground, both coming from the same area and both being gay. We've talked at length about growing up in a neighborhood where gay is still taboo and compared notes on how he's survived living out here while I up and left for the big city.
For him, living out here hasn't treated him too poorly. In contrast to me, who's never officially met anyone the least bit gay in the area, his experience has been plentiful, with many a homo chatting him up. "Mostly while their wives or girlfriends are out of hearing range," he said with a grimace. While indeed the closeted non-urban gay isn't a rare creature, he seems to have brought them out of the woodwork.
So I summed up the parts to ask for his number, and he gave it to me.
I think this is the first time on record that I've asked someone out face-to-face. I giddily drove home and started planning what we could do in a town with as many cows as people.
What surprises me most about this is how ready I am to just have some fun with somebody. It's been so long since I've felt that spark of something new, the fluttering in your stomach that just won't seem to fade. I'm not looking for an instantly-serious-fall-in-love scenario, but I feel like I deserve to have some fun with someone I genuinely click with.
What surprises me even more is how flattering this guy is to me! I've never been called cute and handsome so many times. It's a damn fine feeling to receive compliments like that, mainly because I have a hard time grasping that someone could possibly feel that draw for me.
So everything has been sunshine and daisies, and I've put myself out there with the hopes of reaping a reward.
But something happens that puts a cloud in the sky and sends me into an ever-more confusing spiral of circumstance...
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Fat...
If you've been a semi-regular here at FU, you probably know that I'm slightly weight-conscious.
Not that you could tell by looking at me as I scarf down chips or order my fourth cocktail, but I've always been sensitive about my size. I'm not 'fat', or overweight for that matter, but I've never really become at peace about my body type. I'm gay-fat - AKA I have more than 5% body fat.
Think football(er), minus the actual intensive working out. Broad shoulders, tall, thick chest. And as I've gotten a little older, I've started to realize that, no matter how small my waist should get, I'll never be a more 'compact' body. My chest will never cave in on itself, shedding it's size such as a waist could.
I have been told if I did put my mind to it, I could have a jock-like body. Since that has never really fit my mindset, I've never really been intent on getting toned up, or sexier still, full-on ripped. The word jock - gay, straight or otherwise - makes me think of all the qualities that I dislike in a man. (Though clearly not you, dear jock readers.)
For my part, I've always maintained my weight based on what I eat. My formal exercise has been practically non-existent, but I'm not a couch potato. While I have actually stuck my head in a gym in recent months, I've yet to see any major impacts on my pecs, quads and delts (I think I may have made that last one up.) I found I actually enjoy using an elliptical provided I've got the tunes to work to. I also found out I sweat like a madman, which is kind of gross.
Would I like that Sean Cody-esque model body? Absolutely. Would I have the foundation for it? Probably. Will I be able to get it? Who knows, maybe if I worked at it.
When I was in high school, I always noticed that my body didn't quite fit in with the rest of the guys my age. Like my personality, my body matured earlier than most. I never got to be a stick-figure twink, and I'm a little sore about it.
The more I've learned about what other guys look for, the more I see that my body might not be so undesirable after all. Granted, once the clothes come off I'll hope the lights are down low. But by then it's too late anyway and they're basically stuck with me.
Not only that, but as corny as it sounds, I really care a lot more about what's inside than what's out. That's probably a source for both discomfort and ease; on one hand I hope the person I'm courting is looking more at my personality than how chiseled my abs are, but I also fully recognize the fact that a portion of the population is primarily vain and driven by looks.
As a new year rolls around, I silently promise myself that this will be the year I take control of my body. Being newly single, I have reason to dedicate a bit more time on how I look.
Now it's just a matter of getting my gay-fat ass in shape.
Not that you could tell by looking at me as I scarf down chips or order my fourth cocktail, but I've always been sensitive about my size. I'm not 'fat', or overweight for that matter, but I've never really become at peace about my body type. I'm gay-fat - AKA I have more than 5% body fat.
Think football(er), minus the actual intensive working out. Broad shoulders, tall, thick chest. And as I've gotten a little older, I've started to realize that, no matter how small my waist should get, I'll never be a more 'compact' body. My chest will never cave in on itself, shedding it's size such as a waist could.
I have been told if I did put my mind to it, I could have a jock-like body. Since that has never really fit my mindset, I've never really been intent on getting toned up, or sexier still, full-on ripped. The word jock - gay, straight or otherwise - makes me think of all the qualities that I dislike in a man. (Though clearly not you, dear jock readers.)
For my part, I've always maintained my weight based on what I eat. My formal exercise has been practically non-existent, but I'm not a couch potato. While I have actually stuck my head in a gym in recent months, I've yet to see any major impacts on my pecs, quads and delts (I think I may have made that last one up.) I found I actually enjoy using an elliptical provided I've got the tunes to work to. I also found out I sweat like a madman, which is kind of gross.
Would I like that Sean Cody-esque model body? Absolutely. Would I have the foundation for it? Probably. Will I be able to get it? Who knows, maybe if I worked at it.
When I was in high school, I always noticed that my body didn't quite fit in with the rest of the guys my age. Like my personality, my body matured earlier than most. I never got to be a stick-figure twink, and I'm a little sore about it.
The more I've learned about what other guys look for, the more I see that my body might not be so undesirable after all. Granted, once the clothes come off I'll hope the lights are down low. But by then it's too late anyway and they're basically stuck with me.
Not only that, but as corny as it sounds, I really care a lot more about what's inside than what's out. That's probably a source for both discomfort and ease; on one hand I hope the person I'm courting is looking more at my personality than how chiseled my abs are, but I also fully recognize the fact that a portion of the population is primarily vain and driven by looks.
As a new year rolls around, I silently promise myself that this will be the year I take control of my body. Being newly single, I have reason to dedicate a bit more time on how I look.
Now it's just a matter of getting my gay-fat ass in shape.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)