Continuing my efforts to take the Russian’s advice and not be offish with people. I exchanged numbers with the gym guy and agreed to go out on a date. It’s not like there are a line of guys beating down my door…
He was, as I should have expected, late meeting me at the restaurant for our date. A wine bar around the corner from my apartment. Larrymore had gone on a date recently and told me about the place. It was cute, reminiscent of a Chinese whore-house, but cute nonetheless. Ordering a glass of wine, this is the moment gym guy chose to let me in on his sobriety, for which I am now referring to him as Sober. Not drinking is no longer a societal norm. Not to say we’re all a bunch of drunks but usually it’s the religious and reformed alcoholics that refrain from the delicious poison.
Sober confessed he “didn’t like” drinking. I’m not sold on the answer, as there is probably some embarrassing story he was wise to not share as it would be retold in this forum. We sat, I sipped, he ate and we chatted. A one-sided conversation that had me doing a majority of the work while Sober played grab hands with me under the table. There’s that moment when you realize it’s not so much a date as his effort to hide a booty call with the illusion of a date through the assistance of alcohol. Sadly for Sober, two glasses of wine will not make me drunk, but lucky for him I was willing to play along.
We went back to my place. Usually it would be under the premise of having a nightcap, but knowing he didn’t drink it was clear what was to come. So of course, it was lights out and pants off. What other surprise could be in store for the evening? How about a giant penis. Yes, the skinny white boy was backing black guy junk. There was no warning though his cockiness is now understandable.
Some gay guys are size-queens…I’m not one of them. One look at that thing and it wasn’t happening. There is literally no human sized hole it could have fit in without some intense yoga stretching and a gallon of Analeeze. Sober was left to finish himself off as I redressed and finished my waiting glass of wine. A let down for us both.
I do believe Sober thinks I’m playing hard to get as he now texts me filthy things on the daily and invites me over. For fear of being torn in half I decline or come up with clever reasons why I’m unable to ‘hop on.’ I’m glad in having taken the Russian’s advice and talked to the guy, but I will say it’s odd at the gym now when he texts me from ten feet away with sexually suggestive comments.
To be continued…
And of course, happy birthday Stevie!