NaNoWriMo – Chapter 1

              Aiden sat on his bed, his back up against the bedroom wall, hunched over his two generations old smartphone. His emerald eyes scanned the grid of serious faces and torso shots as his thumb slowly pushed them up on the screen, hoping that he could find the one that could be his next. Usually he never shopped for a suitor and instead chose to lie in wait and have them come to him, but he was hungry and could wait any longer. It had been almost three weeks since his last hook-up.

              His finger stopped, halfway up the phone screen, and then stabbed at the miniscule thumbnail for a larger look.  The photo of the man filled the screen. He had mahogany eyes, thick eyebrows, unruly black hair, and a thick bear that hid the furtive smile on his thin lips. Aiden’s mouth watered.

              He jabbed his thumb at the chat icon, curled himself forward over the glowing screen and moved his fingers into position.

              What do I say? Aiden thought. His brows met over the bridge of his pointed nose, as his right eye tugged at his cheek.

              There were endless options, he knew. He could be playful and see where that took him, or he could do what he had done countless time before, with amazing results, and just be sexually aggressive. He flicked back to the photo again and stared into his face.

              Nothing came to mind. With the swipe of his thumb the photo was shadowed by the text of the man’s profile. Littered beneath the bold, white headings were movie and pop culture references, the usual snide remarks about the superficiality of the app, and the most damning of all statements at the bottom “no hook-ups.”

              Aiden rolled his eyes and sneered.

              “Bullshit,” he snorted.

              He loved the challenge of pushing against the notions of one’s perceived moral standards. It made the prize all the sweeter.

              The phone vibrated and a banner appeared across the top of the screen, a new message from “DTFBTTM.”

              Instinctively Aiden went to the new message and read it, “Wanna breed my hole?” The disgust Aiden felt echoed out of his mouth as a groan. He shook his head. There was nothing he found less appealing than desperation. And this boy was the picture of it. Coincidentally he was also one of Aiden’s formers. This “Mark” and he had met a few times before. Aiden knew that another trist would push this kid over an edge he wouldn’t recover from.

              “Back-up” Aiden said.

              With a few taps he returned to the bearded face of “Jon” and his profile to read it once more. In those few moments a new quote appeared, a string of vaguely familiar song lyrics. Possibly from the musical Hamilton and the song “Helpess;” if Aiden remembered correctly.

              “Oh, look at those eyes, the skies the limit,” Aiden typed out and sent his message.

              He spun around and laid down on the bed, and rested his legs against the wall, as he waited.

              As the moments ticked by he felt a sense of dread well in the pit of his stomach. Maybe it wouldn’t work, he thought. Or maybe he had gotten the song confused with another musical and botched his entry point all together. But his inner self reminded him of the “hungry hole” waiting on the back burner. Pressing his lips together he shook his head. That would have to be a last-last choice he told himself. An eager companion was one thing, but leaving them a hollow and empty shell of a man was not ever an option for him.

              The phone shook and his heart leapt from his chest. His fingers fumbling as he grabbed the phone from his stomach and read the reply from “jon.”

              “Boy, you got me helpless,” the blue bubble held.

              Aiden knew he was in.

              “Down for the count and I’m drowining in it,” he texted back.

              The next came before he could send another.

              “Hamilton fan?” Jon wrote.

              Thank, Luce, I was right.

              “Isn’t it obvious? I sometimes hold sould out shows in my living room with exclusive, one show only, choreohgraphy.”

              “LOL” jon sent back, “Mine are usually poorly attended. Just have the one patron, and he just sticks around cause if he didn’t he might not get fed.”

              “Dog or cat”

              “Cat, his name is Senor Gatito.”

              “Any pics?” Aiden asked, confident of the answer. Sure enough a photo of a long haired feline with an unenthused expression appeared before him.

              “That was taken during encores. He wasn’t too happy.”

              Aiden’s brows lifted at the proper use of the word ‘too.’

              Another blue balloon appeared, “He was hoping for ‘Memories.’” There was a pause and a separate message appeared, “He was high on the nip.”

              Aiden waited, his mind trying to come up with a snappy response before he was beaten to the punch.

              “Any pics?” Jon sent. “The torso is nice but hopefully there’s more.” The next blue bubble said, “Unless you’re the headless horseman.”

              “No, they’re usually asexual,” Aiden responded, mentally patting himself on the back.

              “LOL.”

              Aiden sent his most mediocre face picture, with a smirk on his face and his green eyes reading ‘obviously.’

              It only took a second for a reply to appear, “Very handsome.”

              “Right back at ya,” Aiden wrote back with more confidence than he felt.

Then the conversation lulled. Aiden opened and closed the chat screen hoping that there was a just a lag, but nothing. He was beginning to worry that this might not happen.

“What’re you doing?” Jon wrote.

Aiden’s heart went into overdrive, that echoed reverberated through his limbs.

              “Chillin at home.” He replied, trying to come off aloof. “You?”

              “Preparing for the late night show, that is, if Senor shows.”

              Aiden smiled at the screen.

              This guy can commit.

              “Want to make it an ensemble piece?” Aiden responded without thinking.

              “Fuck,” he whispered, as he read and re-read his message.

              Minutes dragged by  before Jon finally replied, “As long as you don’t upstage me,” which was immediately followed with a screenshot of a map, and a red push pin showing his location.

              Aiden dropped his phone onto the bed and leapt from the bed and bounded into the bathroom where he hurriedly showered, brushed his pearly teeth, and doused himself in Burberry Brit cologne. He dressed in his most slimming and showcasing ensemble, for once foregoing the notion of underwear for a quick and easy reveal. Giving himself a look over in his cracked full length mirror, he dashed out the front door and down to the ground floor.

              “I’m on my way,” he texted back.

              On the street he hailed a yellow cab and once inside set off.

              Anticipation, adrenaline, and hunger flooded every inch of his body, his heart drummed against his rib cage, and his nose ran. Aiden brushed it away from the back of his cold index finger and sniffed the rest back up into his sinuses.

              The cab pulled in front of the brownstone builder and Aiden handed the man the cash, without even counting, and got out.

              Aiden opened up the app once more and found that Jon had messaged during the quick cab ride to add, “Third floor, #6.”

              The front door to the complex was locked, but adjacent to the door was a panel of names and numbers. Illuminated next to number six read the name “Jon Goshen.” Aiden buzzed the unit number and deep voice answered back, “Come on up.”

              The complex door clicked open and Aiden entered.

              The rhythm of his heart pounded harder up into his ears. His mouth went dry and his stomach started to turn. In only a few moments he would be full.

              Jon answered the door before Aiden could knock.

              “Hello,” he said with a false bravado that made Aiden chuckle and blush.

              “Evening,” Aiden said, tipping his head foreward to his host. “Did you audience show?”

              Aiden stepped inside the apartment.

              “I think he had other arrangements.”

              Aiden met Jon’s gaze and smiled. He tried to up the charm radiating from his chest, but when he looked into Jon’s eyes his heart skipped a beat.

              “Do you want something to drink?” Jon said. He turned and headed for the small kitchen.

              “Sure, whatever you got.”

              “Whiskey neat, okay?”

              “Yeah.”

              Aiden spun on his heel to examine the space. A shag rug of gray and a darker gray took up the center of the room. Movie posters of every decade of cinema decorated the walls, and underneath the window to the fire escape, stretched a long, stout bookcase filled with a mixture of books, movies, and action figures. Most of the toys primarily villains, Aiden noted.

              Aiden turned around to find Jon carrying two tumblrs filled with the amber liquid.

              The host walked past his guest and took a seat, with a squeak of the springs, on the plum suede sofa. Jon set the glasses down on the coffee table, one in front of the empty spot next to him on the couch. Aiden took the hint and sat.

              “So, do you do any performances other than Hamilton?” Jon asked.

              The bearded man sipped his drink.

              “Sometimes I swing for the cast of Wicked or Bare. My favorites are the jazzy numbers.”

              Jon flashed a bright smile of perfect teeth.

              Aiden’s eyes locked gazes with him. It was then that he pushed the energy from his chest out to fill the room to it’s brim, that way there was no escape. He had to hurry, he could feel himself getting weak.

              Seizing his opportunity Aiden moved forward and locked his lips against Jon’s. A cool chill ran over his body as he opened his mouth and slithered his tongue into Jon’s warm mouth.

              Jon lifted his hand and cupped Aiden’s cheek, and matched his move with an arm around his back.

              There kisses rose in force and entensity as the found and fell into the other’s rhythm.

              Aiden, not breaking their bond, moved his knee onto the couch and laid Jon onto his back, he head rested on the arm of the sofa. Pressing just enough of his weight against his partners body to feel the jump of excitement. Aiden knew there was no turning back. The power of his lips was working. He could feel Jon’s energy and temperature rise. Their dance rose in measure.

              Jon tried to parry Aiden back, but it was then that he found his partner removing his shirt to reveal the thick, soft black hair on his chest and small belly.

              Aiden straightened his back and removed his own, taking note of Jon’s intense gaze on him.

              Next were the pants.

              “Wow,” Jon whispered, as he found his partner already bare.

              Aiden rushed to remove the final garment.

              The two wrapped their libs around the other, locking the kiss.

              Aiden rushed with relief, he knew that there was enough for a large piece in the end.  This could hold him over for month. The prospect accelerated the excitement.

              Aiden broke their lip-lock and kissed a path down Jon’s chest to one his soft brown nipples. His tongue slid out and over it, sliding a thin coat of saliva in a counter-clockwise circles. He jumped to the other for only a moment, and then continued kissing him down his stomach.

              Jon gave a breathy laugh and jerked upward as if shocked.

              Aiden continued undeterred to Jon’s swarm cock, pressing against Aiden’s smooth chest. The head of which bumped into Aiden’s chin as he looked up into Jon’s eyes. He flashed a half grin before looking down and taking him into his mouth.

              Jon writhed beneath him. His long fingers and sweaty palm fell onto the back of Aiden’s head, guiding him up and down.

Jon’s tempo rose and Aiden knew the moment was close. He glanced up at his face with an expression of excited calm, his eyes closed.

Aiden moved faster and faster and as he did the body before him began to emit a faint glow that rose. The gold light seemed to darken the room around them, submerging the pair into a spotlight.

Jon took charge for a brief moment and said, “I’m going to come.”

In a flash of light Jon filled Aiden’s warm mouth with himself and time froze. The golden glow that had risen from the depths of Jon exploded from him and gathered in a haze around him.

Aiden swallowed, straightened his back and then stood above Jon’s still form in mid coitus. On his handsome face a look of pure joy. Aiden ran a hand on his bearded cheek and then bent to plant a single kiss.

Aiden stood straight and gathered a small collection of the golden light and balled it into a bite size snack. He tossed it back and swallowed. A warmth spread from his chest like a summer breeze down his limbs to the tips of his fingers and toes. He gauged the remains of the golden haze and, determining that there was more than enough there, he made one more morsel and ate.

The incubus sighed in relief and closed his eyes, enjoying the pieces of Jon’s soul.

Aiden returned to the apex of Jon’s legs. Once again he wrapped his mouth around his still stiff dick and continued where he had left off. As his head slid up and down time resumed and what light was left was sucked back into Jon’s body as if it had never been removed, returning the room to a darker dim than it had been before.

“Whoa, whoa,” Jon said with a laugh, pushing Aiden away from him.

Like every man the incubus had met, he was sensitive after climax. Aiden smiled a playful, wicked smile and sat back, as he surveyed the beautiful man that laid before him; his head against the arm rest, his arms limp at his side. It was bitter sweet because he knew the end was at hand. Aiden smiled and started to gather his clothes.

Jon sat upright and grabbed Aiden’s hand.

“What’re you doing?”

Aiden furrowed his brow. “I’m leaving?”

Jon smiles and shakes his head.

“That’s not how this works,” he says, as he rises and spins Aiden around and nudges him onto the couch.

Wordcount: 2,390/50,000

It’s a Brave New World…

…At least that’s what I keep saying to myself, and have been since December when I asked for an open relationship.

My husband doesn’t recall our conversation, in January, when we agreed to close it. I can specifically remember the location and how I felt in the moment in which I snapped and agreed. I then changed all of my stuff on all the apps and went back to that mindset. As it turns out, he was under the assumption we were still open which is when he started talking to this other dude.

We have talked a lot since our initial conversation on Saturday. What I have since learned, was that the reason he spoke to his mother about the state of our relationship and telling her about Derek (his boyfriend) was because he thought it was over between us. He had planned on ending things with me that night because he thought I was waiting for him to pull the trigger. However, when we talked on the car ride home from my parents, after St. Patrick’s Day dinner, his mind changed. What I told him was I wasn’t done. And I’m not. Like I mentioned in my previous post, regarding my midlife crisis, I was on the fence of what to do. I wanted to be single but I also wanted to stay in my relationship because at my core that is what I want. But, I also want to be single. Evenly distributed. (I’m kind of fucked up.)

After our conversation last night I have found further peace with this arrangement, which is basically a polyamorous relationship. I have my boyfriend (I hesitate to use that word for the baggage it brings) and he will have his. At least, for the time being. (It should be noted all four of us have deleted grindr and scruff, further upping the ante.)

A friend of mine, back when we were wrestling with it just being an “open relationship,” told me that we both have to be in agreement, and if one of us isn’t in it, the situation has to end. He is/was right. Which is why I have informed the husband that at the moment he is uncomfortable (and the husband said “I agree”) I will not hesitate to pull the chord on this arrangement. Now, whether he still feels that way in a few weeks, months or years (however long this fucking lasts) may be something else entirely. I just can’t be too concerned with thinking that far ahead. (I can hear the voice of my besty, Shelby, and her subsequent eye-roll, informing me how I’m being stupid.)

I have made peace with the notion that if he ends up ‘head over heels’ with this dude and would rather be with him I will be okay. I mean, of course I will. It will hurt like a mother-fucker, but I will remind myself I set this situation into motion. As he likes to remind me, I chose this. I asked for it when I wanted the open relationship and I chose it (yet again) when we talked the day after the car ride home. He set forth 3 options and I chose the ‘keep things the way they are and stay together but see these side pieces’ plan for only 5.99 a month.

I have no illusions to the contrary that this is absolutely playing with fire. Emotions WILL run high. And someone will be hurt in the end. The gamble is, who is going to be hurt. In the effort of full disclosure I have let my guy, Josh, know everything. I have not hid the fact of what is transpiring. I even want to send him the contact info of my previous ex for further reference to the agony that comes with dating me. I am trouble, plain and simple.

One of the changes I am making, to keep myself sane in this insanity, is to not read into the actions he takes and any assumed underlying message in what my husband says to me. My previous post was me reading into what he said way more than I should have. My therapist said that if we do this there has to be trust and I am just going to trust that he will be honest with me. What he says is what he says. If it turns out that there wasn’t any honesty in his words I imagine I will find out by our relationship ending.

I just find it odd that my husband, who has such anxiety about the future and how things will play out, is okay with this. For once he’s living in the moment and that is some major change. We’re both changing evidently.

The one thought I came to today was that we had previously known of similar situations with other couples in the past and we poo-pooed them and judged. I think we were just belittling them in an effort to tamp down our own desire for something similar. I probably shouldn’t be thinking that because it’s reading into things I shouldn’t. (It’s going to be a hard habit to break.) I just can’t help but look at it the same way I did when I was denying my sexuality. I vehemently hated gay people because I thought if I hated it enough outwardly it would kill that part of myself inside. Well, we see how that worked out.

I probably shouldn’t be airing my dirty laundry, but I have only one story to tell honestly and speak on with certainty and that is my own.

Stay tuned for further episodes of “Gays of Our Lives.”

Acceptance and Other Tales

Self-acceptance is something I was mildly blessed with early on. I say it that way because there is still much of myself I dislike or haven’t come around to realizing is just who I am. Yet even with that, I still have come a long way to have confidence. I think that is why I have to remind myself that not everyone has gone through the same or probably ever will.

When I was younger I fought the idea of being gay tooth and nail. I was raised in a deeply religious home, went to Christian school and being gay was never an option open to me. The idea of even telling anyone I had those thoughts was a flat out no. I grappled with my sexuality. I prayed, in tears, that God would take away those feelings. I didn’t want to be a sinner or disowned from my family. I wanted to have the “right” life with a wife and kids. Yet, there was no denying that I was not attracted to girls. The idea of being with them ended when it came to sex. I love women and could have a deeply emotional relationship but that was where it would end. I wouldn’t be in for the deepest part of commitment and whomever I would have been with would deserve better.

I very nearly lived a “straight” life. I had girlfriends, I did the song and dance that came with it and if it hadn’t been for one fateful night I probably would have driven down that hetero-road and dealt with the consequences that came with it.

The first person I ever told I was “bi” was my friend Becky on her birthday, which is only a week away. I had been so entranced with this boy named Sergio at her birthday that I felt compelled to tell her in the hopes maybe he too… As it turned out he was and he ended up being my first boyfriend and first heartbreak. I fell hard and fast for this kid. When he ended it with me, I was devastated. It took months before I was able to move on because I wasn’t ready. I am someone that is so desperate for love that I dive in without even thinking. I envision this life of bliss and when everything turns out to be the opposite I am hard-pressed to understand that the dream I had was only that. It’s probably a sickness.

The first few days after I told Becky I was so furious with myself. “Why did I do that,” I kept thinking. It wasn’t true. I wasn’t gay! But I was still in denial. It wasn’t until I met with that boy, for our first “date,” that something in me turned and I never wanted to go back to pretending. Being with him came easy. Sergio, or “the s” as I called him to hide his gender and identity, was my first kiss. Real kiss. He was my first boyfriend. And my first infatuation.

I thank him for making me who I am. I learned so much from the short experience. For one, don’t get involved with someone young because they (unlike my freak self) haven’t made peace with their sexual preference. After Sergio I only went for older guys because I couldn’t deal with the heartbreak I had felt when he went running. I know now that I came on too strong and he just wasn’t ready. As a result, I learned to shield myself from people. Well, at first. The moment I get a compliment or am shown just the slightest amount of attention all walls come tumbling down. I am just that desperate for love and attention.

I’m almost certain I’ve shared this story on here (or other blogs) countless times. I probably even wrote it in one of my columns for the Renegade Rip. I almost never told Becky my truth. I went to her bowling party and played my role as a straight dude well, and at the end of the night went to leave. However when I got to my car the battery was dead. I called my parents to help me out and while we waited for AAA I went back inside and whispered to her the words I never thought I would say. It’s strange to look at tiny moments as mundane as a dead car battery altering the entire course of one’s life, but it did for me.

My hope is that others can find the same peace I found when I finally just accepted me for me. My natural follow-up is that it is a hard journey, but in all honesty it wasn’t for me. I have lead the most charmed life. The only real moment that was rough was my mother’s acceptance. She was very much not on-board at the start, but since then she is someone else entirely. Sure there is bigotry, but I rather be at peace with myself than fighting a battle I would never win. Denying your truth is a tortured life, full of secrets and lies that only grow as time goes on.

P.S. May I suggest what spurred this blog post, it’s a song by Brandon Stansell “Hometown.”

The Night I Met My Husband

On this November the first, I celebrate my husband’s and my 4 year wedding anniversary and 14 years as a couple. It’s weird to think about how much time we’ve been together, yet here we are. And what’s most peculiar is how we were introduced purely by accident.

I have told the story numerous times on my blog, but I will do so yet again because it is one of those tales that intrigues me for the utter random happenstance of the whole thing.

Picture it, it was the height of AOL days, 2004. I would spend my late-teen evenings chatting with my friends online through IM or through a typical chatroom known as BakersfieldM4M. My friends and I would log on and broadcast one large conversation in the room, while simultaneously having our own individual private chats. This is where my now husband, then unknown, logged into the room and happen to see my username: MelancholysChaos. (Yeah, I’m rolling my eyes too.) He then confused me with someone else and decided to message and inform me that indeed he and Diego were still together. Being the sarcastic almost-eighteen-year-old I was, I acted as though I knew what he was referring to and carried on a conversation until I got bored and flat out asked him who he was. He told me his name, Charlie, and I added him to my buddylist after I learned that my very recent ex, Travis, had been a big fan of his. However, Charlie had not been attracted to my ex in the slightest, which brought me joy. (And when I say recent here, I mean a week to a couple days.)

For whatever reason, I would message this stranger whenever he came online, which wasn’t that often. Almost a week after letting me know he and Diego were still a thing, he let me know they weren’t. To which he proceeded to ask me out on a late night date to Denny’s.

It should be noted that I was still living at home and attending high school, in my senior year. So, for me to do a late night date I had to sneak out of my bedroom window and “borrow” the station wagon. To give the illusion that I was still in my bedroom, and not out galavanting around town, I put a coat hanger on my door-knob to where it slid in between the crack of my dresser and the wall. It was the most white-trash lock I could concoct but it served its purpose. To add to the illusion of my presence, I put on one of my favorite Disney movies, Sleeping Beauty. I quietly backed out of the driveway, started my car on the street, and made my way across town to Denny’s.

Again, for whatever reason, that night I chose to wear a pair of kahki’s and a red polo shirt with blue stripes. I tell you this because it was VERY out of character for me at this stage in my life. I was very much “goth” at the time. I wore nothing but black t-shirts, black dickie’s, black converse, and black eye-liner. I even dyed my hair black to match how I felt on the inside. (I was going through a phase.) Like I said, for some reason I did not wear any of that. As I later learned, if I had our relationship would very much have ended that evening. My husband liked him some preppy boys. Anything that remotely deviated from that path was shunned.

I pulled into a spot facing the empty street and as I got out of my shaggin-wagon I saw this white mustang drive by and turn into the same shopping center. Somehow I knew that was this dude. He hadn’t even told me what kind of car he drove but I was certain of it. (Those are the kind of thoughts one has when they encounter fate.) And I turned out to be correct.

For the next hour we sat in a booth having lame conversation as we attempted to get to know each other. He had a silver Motorola flip-phone that he kept spinning nervously in between his other facial tics. He kept rubbing the middle knuckle of his index finger along the side of mouth, like someone does when they have a goatee. Later I found out that he had briefly had one and developed the habit. My husband also has a tendency to twitch his nose in the most adorable way when he’s nervous and that night it didn’t stop.

As the evening wore on, neither of us having eaten anything at Denny’s, (I imagine he got a diet soda, his drug of choice) we decided to go back to his place.

I don’t remember if I messaged a friend to say I was going over to a stranger’s house in the wee hours of the morning. I want to think that I did, but more than likely not because I was (and still am) an idiot that thinks nothing of potential dangers.

He lived in this old brick face building downtown that had once been an elder care facility back in the day. It was also located across the street from a former morgue-funeral home (which is where we would later hold our wedding reception.) He lived on the second floor, at the front of the building with a beautiful view of downtown. Bakersfield isn’t much, but the view he had was wonderful.

He fancied himself a collector of DVDs at the time and was showing me the small tower he had amassed. The film he chose that night for us to watch had been decided at Denny’s when I told him that I had never seen “Philadelphia.” Now, he claims he had never seen it too, but I distinctly remember him saying that it was one of Hanks’s best roles. He popped the disc into the tray and we watched the 2 hour long movie about a man dying of AIDS. How romantic.

A remnant of my former relationship with Travis, some thin rubber wrist bands, chose that evening to break and I ended up throwing them away. I think they split when he discovered that I was ticklish and I was wrestling to get away. What a surreal picture to make a romantic connection with someone as we watched a man waste away from a deadly disease at the height of its terror.

When the movie ended he walked me to my car, like a gentleman, and I kissed him. I was annoyed that, that was all we ended up doing, but he wanted to wait until I turned 18, which was only a few weeks away.

I drove away that night thinking I would probably never hear from him again. Oh, how wrong I was. The dude blew up my phone. He was an over-the-road trucker at the time and had looooong hours of nothing to do, so he would call me and keep me on the phone late into the evening.

Looking back, I was so young and stupid. I had no idea what I wanted or who I was. Yet, we seemed to work. It is true that our lives have gone up and down over the past fourteen years. Nothing is ever perfect. For a brief year we ended our relationship yet continued to live together and sleep in the same bed. We were crazy and confused. But, there is truly no one else I would want to go through this with than Charlie. He is perfect in the strangest ways and we compliment each other like a broken window pane. Apart we are two jagged pieces of glass, but together we make the other whole. It’s sappy, but it’s true.