R.B. Winters's Blog: Rent (minus) Control, page 8
August 10, 2015
Visit and a Vomit
There’s always a certain level of stress when someone comes to visit, and an old friend from Utah is no different. In fact, Mandee’s visit may have been more stressful seeing as it’s been many years since we’ve spent much time together. Our hay-day was nearly ten years ago, I’m different after so much time and it was safe to assume she would be as well.It turns out, turning back into a twenty-one year old isn’t so hard. Ten years ago we were hitting bars and clubs, we did the same during this trip though most nights were over by eleven. Brunch is a tradition we didn’t celebrate weekly in the past, also Utah has no concept of what an unlimited brunch means. Mandee thought I was implying the food was unlimited, to her surprise it was the drinks. Though it caught up with me as the waiter showed no mercy and the strength of the drinks eventually sent me home, face down to my proper place before the toilet.
Oh, memories, past and present. Before my evening ended it was only appropriate to drunk text the current love interest. However, this was an epic fail as a joke was translated in my drunk mind, setting the phone on fire. I may have misinterpreted the joke as labeling me a whore, for which I did apologize the following morning for an overreaction, but firmly stand by my claim of living a whore free…or at least a whore lite lifestyle. Meaning, if I’m a whore, I’m the Diet Coke of whores.
As Mandee’s short journey came to an end and our bodies were sore from play and my head was sore from alcohol, we said goodbye. It just so happens that a decade doesn’t have to change things between people, we can freeze a relationship when there’s thousands of miles between and pick up and go when the opportunity presents.
August 1, 2015
You’re a Dick
New Yorkers are thought of as being rude by the outside world, and to a certain degree it happens to be true. Even more so in the gay world because we spend our time being dicks to each other and snubbing those we don’t know.
Last night I was reminded how painful gays can be when our entire crew, gays and straights, went to Boxers in Chelsea for happy hour. We’ve not been in a while and it’s where my friends decided to start the evening. Arriving a little bit late I got in line behind some random man at the bar. He was a good bit taller than myself, making it impossible for the bartender to see me until he was ready to move.
From the right another guy appears, pushing his shoulder in front of me in a standoff to try and beat me to the bar. As it happens, the guy ahead of me turns and they start talking and the stranger trying to nudge me out tells the one ahead he’s “hot.” Now the problem is he’s got an in and an easy opportunity to force me out of the way.
When the guy ahead of me does finally move, because people are dicks and clog the bar without letting anyone in between to put in orders while they clearly have drinks, I jolted forward and took my place at the bar. The guy who tried to nudge in taps me and claims he was there first and tells me to move. I declare I was there first, when the one originally ahead of me backs up the other guy. Which results in me getting an attitude, he’s only taking his side because he hit on the guy and he actually never turned all the way around to even know if I was there or not.
Of course, it quickly devolves and “fuck off” comes right out of my mouth. The guy did back down but it wouldn’t have mattered, I wasn’t moving either way. This could all have been avoided if gays could act like human beings when standing at the bar, or like logical people, go sit at a table or stand in one of the many spots available away from the bar. But no, we crowd in with friends, block people out and act like dicks to each other.
Not that I’m any better, I don’t play well with others, but damn it gets old.
July 29, 2015
Booty Soup
Can we talk about something a little gross and a slight embarrassing? Bottoming is the topic of the day. More specifically, preparations for such activities. There are tons of articles devoted to discussing tops and bottoms and even the occasional recommendation on prepping. That’s my real question – what is the best way to prep? No virgin and not new to the rodeo, it seems like there is no fool-proof way to prepare for penetration that doesn’t involve starvation. Blogs will tell you to douche it out, which you certainly can…but that means you’re shooting a load of water or some other liquid inside yourself. This results in liquifying whatever is up there and it doesn’t necessarily all come right back out of you. This is a recipe for booty soup at any point during the evening.
How are you power bottoms able to take aThere’s also the theory you shouldn’t eat anything within a few hours of doing the deed. Okay, well, the body doesn’t always stick to a schedule and just because nothing went in the mouth today, doesn’t mean there won’t be something wanting to come out tonight.
repeat beating…
I bring up this less than popular topic because, as a bottom, it’s one of those things worth fixating on. Leaving a Hershey Kiss on someone is not an option, and personally if I feel there’s even the possibility of such happening, one of a million excuses will be used.
So I put this out to the world: How? How are you power bottoms able to take a repeat beating, night after night, with shafts of all sizes and not need to stick a plug in there on the daily while still keeping things daisy fresh? Ok, go…
July 23, 2015
Sleepovers and Stress
Dating is a term so loosely and wildly used in description of connections between people it can be difficult to know what it means. If you have a second date, is that dating? If you live with someone, is that dating? Having no idea at which point the occasional meeting moves from being nothing to something, we will call what I’m doing with the Physical Therapist a light form of dating.
With any form of dating comes personal, erratic behavior. The types of things you do in order to portray that great version of yourself with just enough touches of the real you to not be completely fake. Things with PT have been particularly good in the personality area, as he seems grounded and not offended by political incorrectness, meaning there’s not much to hide. However, when it comes to human behavior, such as: sex, sleepovers, etc. I’m as crazy as ever.
It started after the first time we slept together. PT did ask me to spend the night, and I wanted to, but then he’d get a glimpse of what I’m like at night. No, I’m not worried about drooling on his pillow and waking up with bad breath, that’s going to happen either way.
“You must have had a busy day.”A sleepover means PT would see I wake up ten times a night to get up and pee, see me toss and turn for two or three hours before falling asleep, and lay witness to my inability to cuddle in bed because it’s too damn hot. That’s a lot of pressure one week in even if it’s only in my head.
Making the decision that night to go home I thought the following day I’d perhaps decided wrong. PT spent the next two days being far less communicative than he had been prior to the sex. Of course, my mind raced to the place where you assume the person has lost interest now they’ve seen you naked. It took another day before a very minor technology glitch proved this was all self-made stress when a message from iMessage on the computer didn’t make it to PT’s phone.
Later in the evening he sent a text, “You must have had a busy day.” Once I realized he never received the message and was just as anxious over being left hanging as I, it was a huge relief. Instead of thinking PT is the casual guy who can play off dating as no big deal I have the impression he may just be as high-strung on the idea.
July 19, 2015
The Real You
Dating in any city is like going on job interviews for which you know you’re probably not qualified and unlikely to be asked back for a second meeting. Dating in New York City is like starting yourself on fire and denying you don’t like the sensation. There are millions of single people, most of which seem to be some form a mutant evil meant only to make your evening a living hell. So, when you manage to meet someone that’s nice, not only nice, but pleasant to be around it can throw a person.
On a recent first date with a new gentleman caller I was unusually comfortable. The kind of comfortable you usually feel around friends and drunken crowds of strangers. Where you can share your obnoxious commentary regarding strangers, tell tales from the prior week about work and what pisses you off and not feel judged…and have a good time. This is not how most first dates go, so of course I was intrigued and went back for a second.
Realizing who sits across from me on these dates is the mythical “nice guy” it seems like it would be wise to not make any sudden movements which may scare him off. Instead of doing the typical, best behavior dance, which is acting like you are the person your online dating profile claims you to be, I decided to let it all hang out.
No censor when it comes to off color humor, thoughts regarding strangers and the random things that fall off the end of my tongue. The goal is to avoid the guy only realizing who I am a week or five in and then having to do the always enjoyable, I think we should just be friends conversation. So far, it seems to be working, that or this one has a high tolerance for others from a lifetime of living in the city.
I won’t get ahead of myself, this is completely new and there’s plenty of time for him to head for the hills, but to-date I can’t complain. And that’s a change.
July 4, 2015
I’m a Bad Date
First dates can go a few different ways, all of which tend to make a person nervous and uneasy with anticipation leading up to the moment of that first drink. After a long delayed first date setup, Granola was meeting me for a drink at Pierre Loti near Union Square.
Granola is a little older, a little more handsome and a lot more into things which I have no interest: Burning Man for example. Arriving a few minutes early, I found a place at the bar where there was plenty of seating on either side of me and ordered a drink. As the glass of wine was placed on the bar – in walked Granola.
As mentioned, he’s a handsome guy, but as he sat down with a blank expression on his face I felt at an immediate loss for words. Not starstruck or speechless, but literally, I had nothing I wanted to talk about with this man. Our date lasted exactly eighty-four minutes and one round of drinks. As the bartender offered another round, I polished off the drink, declined and tried to rush Granola.
He on the other hand was acting like a proper first date goer. Asking questions, trying to get to know something about me and being a nice guy. He received in return one word answers, no real jokes or stories and a blank stare in return. At one point, as he looked to me for a lead on something to discuss I bluntly admitted, “There’s nothing I want to talk about.” It was true, I couldn’t get my verbal boner up for this guy.
He finally gave in and we exited the bar, having to walk all the way to the subway together as he was heading to Brooklyn and our trains departed from the same station. And in the final moment of our date when there is supposed to be the cute goodbye, my train was pulling into the station, I gave a quick and jolted hug before racing down the stairs and through the doors of the train. And with a bing-bong we raced Uptown and away from what I would classify as my worst first date performance.
June 25, 2015
Fly High. Crash Hard.
They say that wisdom comes with age and common sense is something you can’t learn. So it seems odd a person would ignore all common sense and repeat what should be an obvious mistake, but it happens more often than anyone would like to admit.
Mile High is a British guy whom I actually met ten years ago in Utah. See, he was the new boyfriend of my ex-boyfriend, and we met and slept together. My original motivation was to give a huge middle finger to my ex more than anything else.
We’ve been in touch over the years on social media and he’d mention coming to visit, an easy thing for him as he’s a flight attendant and obviously has access to cheap airline tickets. Throwing caution to the wind he came for a three-day visit and everything was great. That kind of great feeling you usually get after one really good night out with someone new. Where you get the maybe feelings about what it could be and a future. As a side note, my pessimistic self knows better and I’m personally shaming myself by putting this in here as a reminder to use my better bitter judgment.
A month goes by and another two-day visit was planned. This short visit turned into an unplanned ten-day visit when Mile High was robbed on his layover and left penniless in the Midwest. Instead of going home to Chicago he made the decision to come to me. Feeling obligated and a little sorry for him, I let him come and that’s really where I made the biggest mistake.
The robbery, and this is the version of the story I believe to be true after hearing several iterations and patching together facts, was an online hookup gone wrong. What should have been a night of sexy fun turned into a night of lost wallets and flying fists. Stranded here, Mile High needed a new passport, debit card and means to get back to work and his life. In the meantime, I was made into a sort of short-term life support.
The week really came to a breaking point when we went to the Russian’s barbecue in Astoria. I was hesitant to bring a boy around my friends, not because they won’t play nice, but because I would rather not waste their time introducing someone they’ll never see again. Mile High, as the Russian said, is the biggest know-it-all of knowing it all, and he’s right. Pick any topic and he has ten opinions and twenty-five facts to tell you all about. It’s annoying.
Once the wine began to flow it didn’t get better, Mile High was playing with my Sister Wife’s hair [that’s my lady straight]. We couldn’t get his fingers out of her hair, isn’t it obvious you don’t touch other adults? But it didn’t end there, oh no, Mile High for some unknown reason dumped a full glass of water in my lap and all over my brand new watch. This made me bark at him, was he wanting my negative attention? Because that’s what he received along with some hate filled glares.
As Mile High palmed his face and began to cry I leaned in and said, “Do not embarrass me in front of my friends. Suck it up and put on your best Upper East Side big girl face. Pull it together.” To my surprise he actually did get it together, until we walked to the train. I can be a psychotic mess, everyone knows that, but in public I do a good job of keeping emotions to myself, no one wants to hear other people’s drama. But this time it didn’t stop me. Mile High pushed one too many buttons and I told him this was going nowhere right there in what I hope was less than a shrieking scream.
His final three days were not so much awkward as long and uncomfortable. I believe we can remain social media friends, but if he forgets me and never reaches out again I don’t think it will be too painful.
May 31, 2015
It’s a Small Gay World
Most sayings associated with the past are how we never learn lessons or how something will come back to haunt us. Maybe those aren’t the only options…
A decade or so back I dated a cop, then that cop dated another cop, then I had a date with the cop’s cop. I know, complicated. Fast forward to present day and cop #1 I’ve long since lost touch with and cop #2 is no longer a cop but we’ve stayed in contact to varying degrees. We will refer to cop #2 as Mile High moving forward for the purpose of simplicity if nothing more.
Mile High had time in his work schedule and came to New York for a short visit. It’s one of those times when you’re not exactly sure how things will play out. When someone comes to visit and they’ve seen you naked previously there can be an underlying feeling that sex is inevitable even when everyone agrees it’s just a friendly visit. There was sex, but that’s not the point but we can get this out of the way by declaring it now.
During this visit we avoided tourist activities for the most part and spent time catching up on the last ten years of life. And after three days, learning we had much more in common than I realized or perhaps had been unable to notice in my early twenties. But what does it mean? As most interested parties have questioned who the mystery guy is, what my intentions are and if it’s a relationship, I can say I’m not sure.
We live in different cities, something which could prove to be effective for dating. Most gay relationships move so quickly the first few weeks or months are spent with the couple being inseparable and in the end growing tired of one another before searching for something new. Forced distance means this can’t happen, it allows for a slower pace and may break the gay cycle of date, love, hate, repeat. Or it could have the inverse effect and drive us both mad to the point of giving up, anything is possible in life.
Are we dating? Technically, no. We are however getting to know, or re-know, each other. Could that lead to dating, I believe so. We’ll see what happens moving forward, but I can say that of all the things to creep out of the past I’m glad Mile High is one of them.
May 19, 2015
I Do Until I Don’t
This past weekend my friend, B1, invited me to her hometown in Maryland for a wedding. I agreed, grabbed a new blazer and tie for the occasion and made my way by bus to the state which is generally only on my radar for work.
Having never been to a wedding in my adult life or a Catholic Mass (ever) this was a dual immersive experience. The pretty little church in the center of a quaint town provided an ideal setting for the wedding. The rituals of the Mass were a bit of a surprise as I’ve attended a church before, but never needed to say more than the occasional “amen.” There were a few things about the event which struck me.
First: I’ve never noticed how incredibly misogynistic the Bible is – definitely written by men for men. Everything about the marriage speech favors the husband and more or less makes the woman sound as though she should be pleased to do his bidding and popping out kids. They could really speed things up by having God impregnate the brides at the altar with an express baby delivering as you leave, combining the wedding and birth to completely cut out the hospital middlemen.
Second: After listening to the Mass (Should that be capitalized? I’d probably know if I attended a church.) everything felt fictional. The requests for blessings and those blessings promised by the Priest’s completion of this ritual. Honestly, I walked away from the experience thinking perhaps it’s time to pick a side on the God topic, leaning towards the Atheist side of things. Faith in anything is difficult, but I find it difficult to believe in a book created by men to suit their whims and passing it off as the word of a God. Also, if there is a God it seems he/she would have far greater things to do than listen to the prayers of people or worry about marriages, etc. If you created everything, wouldn’t it be much more likely you’re still out there creating new things?
Opinions aside, the party after the wedding was amazing. B1’s friends from her teenage life were in attendance and we had a great time. Drinks and dancing until there was nothing left to drink. Literally, we closed an open bar before heading to B1’s parent’s house. It was my hope to make a great first impression. Instead, so drunk I threw up three times and had to look at the floor while we talked I wished to be dead. Once the parents hit the sack I started feeling better and we had a pool party in the basement. It was only the next day I could apologize for being a crazy lush, which was well received and will permit me coming for another visit.
The short of it, I see the value of the post wedding party, can’t fathom why people get married, am wondering if God could possibly exist, and still haven’t learned to avoid an open bar or a pool.
May 11, 2015
Circle of Jerks
As far as anyone knows time moves in straight line. Dating, at least in this case, appears to move in a circular fashion.
A big fan of the first date, it’s always hit or miss if there’s going to be a second or third date. For the few gentlemen who have lasted for some stretch of time, or have engaged with me in some manner over the last eight years, they end up filed away in the subconscious and are rarely thought of.
That was until the beginning of April rolled around and life began playing out a repeat. Mr. Kitty, whom I never dated, but we hung out a bit a few years ago reached out. It wasn’t an unwelcome connection as he’s a good guy and even at the very least he makes for interesting conversation. His intent was to grab a drink on this particular day, but real life was already in motion and it happened to be the day of my latest tattoo appointment. A slight delay, which eventually gave way to a glass of wine and a catch up conversation.
It was nice to have a first date, non first date. Since we already know one another to a certain degree it allows skipping the usual first date questions: Where are you from? How long have you lived in the city? Where in the city do you live? You know, the generic banter that we all go through. Overall, a nice time which then turned into a brunch and an upcoming date.
I’d leave it at coincidence, Mr. Kitty reaching out after so much time, but then a second person, whom I’ve been out of contact with for five or so years sent a message. And a third guy, Lobster, whom I first met eight years ago in Jersey, then had a second date with three or so years ago on the Upper East Side. That date ended with him storming out and sticking me with the check when I mentioned there would be no sex at the end of the night. When Lobster sent a text last week I was right in the middle of telling Larrymore about Mr. Kitty. This was the moment it became clear dating is circular…that, or I’ve dated everyone in NYC at least once. That can’t be the case…yet.
I don’t yet have a fully formed opinion or point to these musing, I’m interested to see how this Mr. Kitty situation plays out. It may be nothing more than occasional friendly cocktails and witty banter, both of which are perfectly acceptable. Or, is this the beginning of a year filled with people from the past traipsing into the world once more to make a cameo? Stay tuned.
Rent (minus) Control
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