I “like” ugly people just so I can get the match to feel good about myself…and then I instantly block them.
(Sorry for the delay in updating! Life’s been crazy).
So last weekend was pride in NYC translation: sex-capades on top of sex-capades. I had to make sure I was shaved in all the right place and tan lines were nonexistent.
Since so many of the homoz were here, TInder was bumpin’! So many gays in the city from Boston, Philly, DC, and apparently they were all here to see me! Or at least…I like to tell myself that based upon the number of matches I was getting.
Well there was this one guy in particular who was quite sexy from his photos. He was Persian. I’ve never been with someone from the Middle East. Normally this is because most have enough hair on them to knit a wool sweater big enough for my great Aunt Karen (for those who don’t know, that’s a shit ton of hair). But this one was hairless and sexy.
That night I was out in Hell’s Kitchen and we agreed to meet up at Therapy. I was upstairs and I could see him coming up. And he definitely was sexy. He seemed kinda short, but I couldn’t tell if that was the depth perception for what; I was sure that once he came up he’d be normal height. aaaaaaaaand I was wrong. At a whopping 5’7”, I am not a very tall guy. I could easily see over his head, probably making him a good 5’4”….
I was so taken back…like wtf do I do in this situation! I’ve never been in it before. On one hand, he’s hella sexy. On the other, how do I bottom for a guy shorter than me?!? IT DOESN’T WORK THAT WAY.
Well that’s when I quit thinking about it and had my double Long Islands take the lead. There’s a first time for everything, right?
The more I drank the taller he become magically. I don’t question the power of alcohol, it works in the most mysterious of ways. Well, he was visiting from LA so he had a sweet ass hotel close by. So around 6AM we go back to his place.
To say I was expecting a small dick is, well, accurate. This little guy was charming and adorable and great at making out, but….you know. Fortunately, I was wrong! Surprisingly the little guy was packing! My lucky day.
We fooled around. Being a “power bottom” ( I really hate that term) and liking it rough, there were times when he wasn’t able to be as aggressive as I would have liked…but it was still pretty good. It got awkward when he wanted to cum on my face though. Uhhh homie don’t play that. And getting dick slapped? No. I don’t like these weird domination fantasies being played out with Little People, Big World: Persian Pride Edition. But then he wanted me to cum on his face and lick it off….that’s some weird shit but, fuck it. It’s pride weekend, right?
Then we fell asleep. Next morning he called me trash. Slapped by ass. And I was on my way! What a real romantic.
Well…at least I can say I’ve crossed Persian off my list! Still to go:
Are we considering Mongolians as a unique race? I don’t know. But fuck it, let’s add it to the ethnic sex wheel.
I hate it when a guy’s first picture is cute and I’m all like:
But then I look at the next picture and I’m like:
When a guy’s picture is a shirtless bathroom selfie:
So I recently went on a date to see the Postal Service play at the Barclay’s Center in Brooklyn.
Me walking in, “OMG THIS IS WHERE JAY Z COMES! I”M FAMOUS”.
Postal Service reminds me of my teenage angst, so obviously I love them and get emotional every time I listen to them.
But before going there, John (the guy) asked if we could get some drinks before hand. I said of course, do I look like someone who refuses alcohol? fuck. no.
Well, we get these classy cocktails. I don’t know the other things in it but once I saw “tequila” written out, I knew it was mine. This guy was boring the fuck out of me and if I wanted to make it through the evening, I’d have to be reunited with my good friend Jose. John then tells me he ordered us some duck. Oh, Mr. Big Spender, I was okay with the cheeseballs but I like your style.
That is, I LIKED his style. Because when it came time to order, he had me pay! WHAT THE FUCK? Why’d I get this $15 cocktail and why’d you order food if I just had to pay myself?! This guy was not off to a good start.
But we go to the concert. I’m fan girling. We are good.
The concert starts and this fucker tries to begin making out with me. Uhhh I don’t know who you are. We are in public. Thanks but no thanks. He then asks if I want a beer. Absolutely, that’s the only way this date can get better. Well, when he comes back he says “that will be $10.” HOLY SHIT SERIOUSLY?! I wanted him to return it. I should have clarified. “I want free booze. Don’t offer and then make me pay.”
So I was annoyed but I put on a happy face and sank away into the music. By the end of the concert I was in a better mood.
Once it was over he asked if he could walk me home since I live kinda close. I said okay. We kiss on my door steps. But before leaving, he asks if he can use my restroom. Silly me, I say okay. WORST MISTAKE.
We go upstairs and after he pisses, he takes a look into my room. I’ve had a couple drinks and was tipsy at this point, so we begin making out. And then we begin blowing each other. AND THEN HE FALLS ASLEEP!
Uh what the fuck are you doing sir? After 30 minutes I had to wake him up and tell him he had to go. Who just falls asleep like that?? It was one of the most awkward situations of my life.
Next morning he texts me, “OMG I had such a great time last night. You’re so cute and funny.”
Hey, guess what? Pay attention to the age on Tinder. Because when you don’t WHOOPS!
Last week I met up with this guy, let’s call him David in Midtown for drinks. I walk into the sports bar because I’m like soooo straight. I was trying to find him and then this guy walks up to me and says “hi!”. I thought it was a joke. David was significantly older than what he looked like on Tinder. And by that I mean, I thought he was like 35…turns out 49! Bonus points because at least he wasn’t 50?
I had to hide my shock. He noticed something was up. I just said “Oh! You’re just taller than I anticipated,” smoooooth cover. I immediately wanted out from the situation. I don’t mind a silver fox when I know that’s what I’m pursuing. Did NOT expect it and just through off my game. BUT I never say no to free drinks.
We hit it off well as I was sipping on my Blue Moons (you know, straight shit). And then we decided he will take me on a gay bar tour in Hell’s Kitchen. I didn’t mind. More bars meant more drinks. KEEP ‘EM COMING GRAMPS! I’m too poor to care about who is buying my liquor.
As we went to each bar, the more I had drinks the younger this guy looked. I don’t remember for sure, kinda blacked out, but I think we made out in the bathroom at Industry…or if it wasn’t him, I definitely made out with someone!
He asked me to go home with him but the one shed of sobriety in me said “he probably has saggy balls” and said no. But then on my way home on the train I accidentally puked on it! WELCOME TO NYC BITCHES! Why are you staring? Never seen someone so sexy before? Then I fell asleep on the train and woke up in God knows where! With some homeless guy touching his erection. That’s cute.
What should have been a 15 minute train ride ended up taking almost two hours and the rest of the little self-respect I had, since you know, I had to piss in a corner because I couldn’t find a bathroom.
Next day, DINOSAUR texted me a picture we took together. Uh…what? And then he tweeted it. I WANT NO EVIDENCE OF BEING WITH YOU.
So lesson learned. Age is important. And don’t try to get super drink that they look 20 again.
Anytime I get a new match, I’m like:
You can’t deny that immediate feeling of “OH EM GEE IM PRETTY” every time you get that match notification.
Let me just throw this out there. I love Latin men. And Filipino men. And black men. Okay, I just love men of different flavors. Nothing wrong with white boys, a bowl of plain vanilla is always my ice cream of choice, but the only thing exotic about them is their cleaning lady from their life back in suburbia (because one other thing I’ve learned since being here…eeeeveryone is a transplant). But if I had to rank, the latin passion is hard to beat.
My first tinder date was with a Dominican (insert rolling ‘r’ growl). We met one Sunday morning by the George Washington Bridge, he thought it’d be a cute first date, different from the conventional dinner approach. Sounded like a great idea at the time, until Sunday morning rolled around and I was hungover as shit and smelled like a dirty stripper. I somehow managed to pull myself together and become presentable.
We got Starbucks and started to walk across the bridge. It was great until we realized it was a bike lane and apparently Sunday morning is when everyone feels like exercising and showing off their physique (do you think you’re better than me because you have chiseled abs? I can eat three Big Macs in a minute #thuglyfe). So after getting yelled at by bikers enough times we decided to go back and sit along the river.
As we walked, I was getting hot, sweaty, still hungover and to top it off, he got us lost. Throughout this process he was talking about his “life” and all I really cared about was a Bloody Mary.
We finally get to the water. Sat on some rocks on the bank underneath a tree. The breeze felt great as it blew on my sweat-soaked shirt. Nothing says “look at how sexy I am Mr. Dominican” like back sweat.
Which reminds me, this guy is sexy as shit and smelled amazing. I somehow have this ability to get with guys outside of my league. I think it’s due to my charming, witty, absolutely perfect personality *twinkles eyes* LOL.
So we sat on the rocks. The moment we do, we give each other the eye. You know the eye I’m talking about. That quick look that shouts “I want us to fuck and do dirty things.” Did it matter that it was 11:30AM. People were walking by with their children. Or that I had only met this guy an hour before? Of course not. No one has time to think about consequences, Siri will tell me if I shouldn’t do something, right?
So we begin making out. [insert seductive adjectives about how good it was]. And since I am a nice guy, I went down on him. Big dick. Veiny. Not my cup of tea but I’m not one to complain. But you know what I am going to complain about? Why do some guys’ dicks curve? Always blown away. Unzipping pants is like a game of cock-roulette “WE’VE GOT A LEFT HOOK BOYS!”
So I start doing my thing. My knees hurt so badly. Rocks are hard! I started getting scratches but since I’m a champ, I powered through. As I was going at it, he grabs the back of my head and starts shoving down. Nuh uh. Homie don’t play that. I give a damn good blowie and don’t need you getting oddly turned on through feelings of domination and superiority. Rub my hair, play with my ear, because if you push me down one more time I will bite.
Things got better. I finished. Swallowed (always). We zipped up out pants, walked up to the sidewalk and went on our way. Made a few more times along the way. He dropped me off at the train stop, and that was that.
I was so excited that I had gotten a free venti iced white mocha with an add shot, that’s like $7.85 and I’m poor. Wait. Sudden realization, did I prostitute myself for Starbucks??…Eh, living that NY life.
I was prepared to have sex by the river but mr. dominican didn’t bring a condom. He said he’s clean so we could do it anyways. Yeah okay. That doesn’t sound sketchy at all you pervert.
I still talk to this guy. He was really sweet. Aggressive. Just what I like. But as I was on the train home all I could think was, “NYC + Tinder = LOL.” And this blog was born.