Confessions of a (Semi-)Religious Gay Guy

NCMOs, hookups, dates, and relationships. Less confessions and more stories from a semi-religious gay guy in his late twenties who probably blossomed a little late with romance. Chicago, IL.

[awkwardexperiencesdating]

My Meaningless Kiss

We’re drinking. By this point, I haven’t been drinking alcohol for long—maybe a month—and I’m discovering that I can hold my liquor pretty well. Better than the schmucks I call friends who are with me, anyway.

That’s mean. They are my friends. Ish. The three of them, Dallas Fred and Kurt, are lower tier friends, but friends nonetheless. I have weird thoughts on friendship. Ironically, sharing these negative led to one of my favorite friendships. This is beside the point. I’m wandering. Maybe alcohol makes my mind wander.

Ken and I broke up a month and a half ago. I’m still hung up on Dain, one of Dallas’s best friends who now lives in DC. And Fred had tried dating Ken right after we had broken up, not knowing, at first, that Ken is my ex. It was messy, but at this point Fred and I are still hanging out. Things seem okay, but I’m the tiniest bit wary.

“Man, I’m getting drunk!” Fred laughs. He’s had two fire ciders. Fred is tiny. So very smol. Dallas, himself a twig, is also quickly getting tipsy. Kurt is Dallas’s designated driver, and therefore not drinking. Why are these people at my house again? Oh. Right. I swore I’d never drink alone.

Dallas starts talking about sex with his ex, Parker, whom he is still best friends with—said ex also briefly dated Dain (dating here is very “incestuous”) and is besties with him—going into pretty graphic detail. The specific story he’s sharing includes the following:

Having sex all over Dallas’s apartment while his roommates are gone for the weekend.

Dallas bottoming that time and thus revealing Parker was a predominant bottom, a fact that I had accidentally discovered months ago, yet was still surprised and strangely aroused by.

Parker having an underwear fetish and Dallas shoving a pair of his roommate’s underwear in Parker’s mouth during sex.

Rimming in the shower.

“Ken and I never rimmed,” I say. I’m on my fourth drink and I feel fine. More or less. Most things to me are more or less. God, is that boring? I think. Yeah. I think that’s boring. “It looks hot in porn, but in practice…” I trail off. At this point in my life alcohol makes me a little wistful.

“Oh! [redacted]! It’s really good!” Dallas pretends to be very shocked. “But do it in the shower so you know you’re both clean.”

“It’s also nice right before bottoming,” Fred adds. Something about him is a little off.

“I don’t bottom,” I say.

“What!?” Dallas sounds more authentically shocked this time. “You’ve never bottomed? But it feels so good!”

“Once or twice, I guess. I hated it, so Ken always bottomed.” I swish my drink a little, briefly look over at Fred. I get what’s off about him now; he’s uncomfortable. He doesn’t like hearing about me and Ken doing the dirty, banging it out, fucking. Fred still likes Ken. Weeks later I find out he still presses Ken about dating. I like seeing Fred metaphorically squirm, so I add “He liked bottoming for me, so it worked out.”

“Oh, [redacted], it feels so good. Right, Fred?”

“The only way I can cum is from bottoming.” He’s half joking, half serious.

Dallas starts up again. “You have to finger yourself every day so you’re a little loose. It helps a ton.”

Kurt has nothing to add. He’s basically a non-entity. I think about fingering Dain nine months prior. Some more casual conversation ensues, Fred and Kurt talk about something, Dallas and I chit chat. Then Dallas says something that surprises me.

“[redacted], let’s make out!” He seems so enthused about it. I forget how sexually free he is and feel jealous. Why isn’t hooking up my thing? Oh, right. Because everything makes me uncomfortable. I’m uncomfortable existing.

“No,” I say. But not in a mean way. Probably not in a mean way. I give him ‘a look’.

“Why not?”

“You’re drunk. So’s Fred.”

“I’m not drunk,” Fred says. He is. He still seems sore about the Ken thing and is trying to act tougher than he is. Hell, I’m a pacifist but even I could take him. I’m surprisingly scrappy.

Dallas presses harder. I give in, and we start to make out. Dallas pulls away. “Wow! You’re a really good kisser!” This is the second time I’ve been told this, but it somehow means more hearing this from Dallas. But also, fuck, being told this means it’ll get to my head, mess me up. I’ll never be able to kiss well again. I’m ruined. We continue making out. This is the only time we will ever kiss and we never talk about it afterwards because it didn’t mean a thing to either of us.

More time passes, Dallas and Kurt decide to leave. I was planning to hang out longer with Fred because I hate myself but he says he has to go, too. He feels fine enough to drive. I’m a little bummed, shrug. They all leave. I later find out Fred messaged Ryan, a friend of mine from college he has hooked up with previously, to get fucked in the back of Ryan’s car. I know this is because of Ken. I like knowing I have made Fred sexually frustrated. I’m okay if this makes me a bad person.

[awkwardexperiencesdating]

Ken has told me that he never wants to drink, but hanging around Fred makes him nervous because he knows if anybody could convince him to do so, it would be him. Ken also has this habit of telling me everything, including his dating life. He says it’s because he thinks I’m his best friend, and sometimes I wonder if he tells me things to make me jealous. I know he wants me back. I know this because he’s said as much. I lead him on by hooking up with him from time to time. This is stressful, but damn it all to hell I try and be as good and useful to my friends as possible, and listening is my best quality. This makes it easy to take advantage of me and whether he knows it or not, that’s what Ken does. This brings us to our car ride back from the grocery store.

We’re hanging out, and I offer to make us dinner. I love to cook so it isn’t a big deal. We’re heading back to my place and he starts to tell me a story.

“I was hanging with Fred the other night,” he starts. Then he pauses, giggles a little. I swear he’s a little boy in an adult’s body. “Maybe I won’t tell you.”

“Dude, just tell me.” I know he’s going to tell me anyway. Even if I really don’t want him to. Am I too nice? What is my breaking point?

“We went to Club Jam,” Ken says. “And I got drunk.”

My stomach drops and any good cheer I have follows. I think I know where this is going.

“We were with this other guy and this girl. We danced, and we did this three way kiss thing at one point, which didn’t work. And. You know what? I’m pretty sure I’m pansexual.”

This is a lie. Don’t get me wrong; I know he’s had girlfriends and I’m friends with plenty of pan and bisexuals, but in our religious demographic, 90% of the men who claim to be bisexual are, in fact, gay. Ken is naive. I’m a dick and claim to know him better than he knows himself because I’ve figured my shit out and I can’t stand that he hasn’t. I’ve had more time to deal with things. He hasn’t. I forget this. Often.

“I started making out with the girl there and we went to the bathroom. I fingered her until she came. I didn’t know girls squirted when they came.”

I grow silent. A, he knows nothing about female parts or sexuality. B, this was it. This was my breaking point. We pull up to my place and I don’t talk to him for an hour. I will never trust or feel comfortable around Fred again.

[awkwardexperiencesdating]

My Foolishness

Fred and I have been friends for roughly a month. Part of the friendship started when I talked to him about my breakup with Ken. These sorts of things strengthen friendships, or it makes one of you a good listener. Either way it’s a bonding experience. This is why what happens hurts. It starts off slow.

I’m at home, and I get a snapchat from Fred. He’s with Ken and they’re wearing fake mustaches or something. Weird. They know each other? Right. I think they met at a thing last week? I get a snapchat from Jonny. It’s the same thing. Why are they sending me snaps? Since they know each other I tell Fred not to talk about me and Beardy to Ken, I don’t want Ken to feel hurt. Days later I get another snap from Fred, a video, of Ken in the passenger seat of Fred’s car. Huh. What is going on here. I try not to think about it because I’ve been seeing Beardy. I wanted to break up with Ken anyway, so I was fine with it but I knew how conflicted he was.

I’m at work, and Fred texts me. We talk for a bit and I ask him what’s up with him and Ken. He tells me they’re “sort of dating”. This is when I freak out. I tell him Ken and I broke up because he didn’t feel comfortable dating men because of religion or whatever. Fred realizes he’s fucked up; he says he sort of knew Ken and I dated, but didn’t realize he was who I was talking about when I was talking about my last breakup. I don’t talk to him for hours as he desperately sends apology texts. I try calling Ken and leave him a voicemail. He responds:

Ken: I'm sorry. We did break up because I felt guilty, but i thought we both understood it wasn't just because we were dating. It was because I was uncomfortable with how far we had gone.

I can understand why you're mad, but I do feel like you're being a little unfair right now.

I feel I am not being unfair. I call him again and he answers. I tear him a new one. I feel lied to. Fuck, I even got him an internship where I work. Why is this happening? Later I receive another text from him.

Ken: Hey [redacted], you were right. it was stupid and hypercritical [sic] me to start dating someone, especially after we ended the way we did. Just thought I'd let you know that fred and I aren't dating anymore. We were never really officially dating anyway. Things didn't get very serious. I'm sorry that things happened the way they did.

I start talking to Fred again. He’s apologetic. I apologize to Ken, and, lying through my teeth, say it’s okay if things do happen. Really I want to punch them both in their dicks. I ask Ken if he likes Fred, and he says he doesn’t know. He hasn’t really ‘liked anyone for a while’. I roll my eyes so hard it hurts because we’ve only been broken up for a month. His statement means jack shit. Ken tells me Fred keeps pressing for things, but Ken keeps telling him no. And I find out Fred has told Ken about me and Beardy, which I conclude pushed Ken towards Fred in the first place. Our friendship continues until I move to Chicago, when I decide I think it’s a good idea that Ken and I don’t talk for a while.

[awkwardexperiencesdating]

My Chad

We’ll call this boy Chad.

I’m at a Denny’s on a Wednesday night, hosting a gathering of a religious gay men in the area. I hate hosting gatherings. Yet, somehow, I’m deemed one of the “good ones” and asked* to introduce a young man who has recently come out to himself to some of the other guys in the area so he can have support. (Spoilers: I myself never talk to this man again after this, only occasionally seeing his FB or Instagram posts and receiving the rare “like” from him). 

It’s turned in to a bigger thing than I initially planned as one guy has decided to take this opportunity to bring a few other guys with him who he thinks could benefit from this social gathering of pie eating and chit chat. One of these extra guys seems to be very focused on me. He, like everyone else at the table, has a name.

“Hey, I’m Chad. Chadwick for short,” he says, introducing himself. I give him a scrunched up face, the kind typically given by petulant 8th grade boys, because what he just said is stupid yet strangely endearing. 

He sees my confusion and begins to explain the joke. Continuing to give him 8th grade boy look I tell him “No, I. I got it. I got it.”

It’s his “-ism” and he sticks to it, introducing himself to everyone else the same way. He is 30, has some blond scruff, and dresses like your average boy next door casual republican with jeans that should fit him nicer (but don’t) and a plaid shirt. I will later figure out that this is the majority of his wardrobe.

Chad Chadwick-for-short looks at me a lot, hanging on to my every word. Somehow I am (mostly) effortlessly charming during 90% of this event. This often happens when I’m not consciously trying to impress a boy. Chad is cute, but I think nothing of his direct gazes because many men in this gaggle of gays choose not to date (or say they don’t but have random NCMOs--non committal make outs--and feel hella guilty after) and I figure he won’t make a move. I am wrong. I am often wrong.

After the event I friend Chad on Facebook. The next morning he accepts the request and immediately sends me a Facebook message.

Chad: It was good meeting you the other night. I’d like to get to know you better. Would you be open to getting together for a meal?

Me: Yeah yeah yeah! Sounds good to me.

Chad: Tonight? I’m pretty free.

This never happens. No boy has ever been this free for me. We settle on six. He asks me my favorite restaurant. (Who is this guy and why is he in to me?) Naturally, we get pizza.

Dinner is good, conversation is fantastic. He pays. He still wants to talk and hang out, having the free time. So we decide to star gaze. We drive up the canyon to a park that’s empty. We get out. I know what’s going to happen. We look at the stars. I know what’s going to happen, the air is thick with desire. He puts his arm around me and pulls me close. Holy shit I know what’s going to happen, the tension is thick with desire, this guy is cute, and he’s in to me.

He looks at me. He goes in, and we kiss. Later that night he will send me this message:

Chad: I’m walking on air. Thanks for a memorable experience ;)

His tongue is large and I feel like I’m going to choke on it every time we make out. We last a week.

More later on that week long makeout session.

*I have yet to be repaid for this request. Jimmy, oh Jimmy. Silly boy. You owe me for forcing me outside of my comfort zone.

[awkwardexperiencesdating]

My Meet Cute

I’ve only been in one car crash and it most definitely was not my fault (no, really, it wasn’t I swear). What had happened was that I was driving down to the stop light in the left lane because the right lane had an ungodly number of cars in it. Little did I know, the cars had been nice and left an opening for vehicles to get out of the parking lot. I wasn’t expecting this- the last state I lived in had some real asshole drivers. But lo and behold there it was. And there I was. And there the truck was.

Despite my best efforts to swerve left for minimal damage, I wasn’t fast enough (curse me for not being the Flash). The (rather large) truck rammed me in to oncoming traffic. A minivan was coming towards me and the only thing on my mind was “These poor kids are going to have to go to therapy because of me,” so convinced was I that my death was to be then and there (I hadn’t yet started Game of Thrones and know to say “not today” to death).

A miracle happened: both the minivan and I were able to swerve away from each other and I got safely into the suicide lane. I was in shock but didn’t realize it, telling the doctor who just happened to be driving behind me when this happened that I was fine (I never did thank him). The guy in the truck, tall blond and handsome (exactly my type amirite guys gentlemen prefer blondes hahahahaha I’m so sorry), and with his father and brother. We exchanged info.

We text each other about the accident, insurance stuff, and I let him know he has an excellent, regal name. We text back and forth late into the night and for a few days after and decide to meet up at Taco Bell to hang out. Guys, the sexual tension. When we left TB to go our separate ways he asked me “Is there anything else you want to do?” I knew what he was hinting at, but I was young, naive, unsure and unwilling to grasp the moment by the balls (much like how I am now, 3 years later).

We hang out again, this time because he had never seen Fantastic Mr. Fox and I once swore to myself that I would never date anyone who had never seen that film. We watched it. When it was over, we watched 30 Rock, wrestled around, and then made out. I had a raging boner the entire time and he used too much tongue. We lasted a week and a half before I broke it off because 1) He was an elementary school teacher and I noticed he’d talk down to me like I was a student sometimes and 2) I was hung up on my friend Soda Pop at the time.

(During one of our make out sessions he jokingly pointed out my boner and I was embarrassed. I asked if he was even hard and he said “a little” so I went for his crotch and through his jeans I felt him him. He felt big. He moved my hand away after those glorious two seconds.)

[awkwardexperiencesdating]

My first (on purpose) hook-up

I left a friend's party. I left my friend’s place, told him I'd be right back, so I could go and have my first official Grindr "hook-up" (depending on your definition of the word hook-up and which sexual acts it includes).

I pick the Grindr dude up in my car. Fine. Cool. He looked a little cuter in his pictures but that’s fine because he likes hairy dudes and I dodged the question a little bit about how much body hair I have (one of those voice going up a few octaves kind of dodging/fudging/what have you but to be fair below the belt I’m decently hairy). We drive to a park, and start making small talk.

Small talk. Small. Talk. I was there for a hook up and not especially interested in the guy but it was obvious both of us were new to this. Finally I suggest we get started. I lean in, we start kissing (he’s okay, nothing memorable) and fondling (he’s got a hairy chest) and soon the belts come off, pants come unzipped. I reach in and the boy’s got a bonafide chode- pretty damn short but fuck it was thick.

He warns me that he cums quickly. Cool. If I’m not careful I’m the same, no biggie (no pun intended) and I enjoy getting my sexual partners off first anyway. He doesn’t do too much playing with my dick. I don’t think much of it. In almost no time the dude busts a nut and I catch it in the napkins I keep in my glove compartment that I steal from fast food places. Heavy breathing, that was great, now he can focus on me. Except...

“I don’t think I can finish you,” he says, out of breath.

What. The. Fuck.

I don’t remember if I even finished myself off, but as I drove him home I got my revenge by being hella weird. I break the silence and say, “I’ve got your DNA now or whatever. Imagine if there was an evil scientist jerking dudes off to get their DNA and make clones of them for nefarious purposes. That’d be weird but cool, right?”

The look on his face and his weak ass, unsure response was almost worth him not finishing me. That was the first and last time I ever had a pure hook-up.

[awkwardexperiencesdating]

My First Date With Beardy

Beardy and I had been talking for a while, but hadn’t had a chance to hang out one-on-one-- we had always been in a group setting. I was giddy and nervous when I finally had the opportunity to hang out with just him. (Did I mention that he had some amazing facial hair? I’m a sucker for good facial hair.) He was new to town and I figured I’d treat him to some food and maybe take him to the mall or something (because winter).

I picked him up from the bus station. As we were driving he told me that he had talked to a buddy of his about us hanging out and said buddy told him that this was totally a date and that if Beardy didn’t “put out” then the buddy was going to punch him. I told him I had planned on buying him dinner anyway, so it worked out.

After food I took him to a shopping center that he said had a store that sold “gay underwear” (you know... Aussiebum, Andrew Christian, etc). Before we went in he made a movement and I told him for a second I thought he was going to hold my hand. He said “Do you want to?” 

Yes. Yes I did want to. It was the first time I had ever held hands with another guy in public.

On our way back to the bus station I mentioned something about kissing him-- for his putting out portion, you know? He laughed. And at a stoplight I went for it. When we got to his car at the station we made out for a few minutes. It was late and he had classes in the morning. It took a lot of effort for us not to stay together all night. 

We went on a lot of dates for four or five months. I remember that at first I thought his lips were really soft. And then I realized his lips were just really malleable so he didn’t have to be a good kisser... my lips would do all the work to place his where they needed to be.

[awkwardexperiencesdating]

My First Kiss

We’ll call this guy “Germany.”

It was almost my nineteenth birthday and I had just made several new college friends that I had been hanging out with daily. One night as one of our hangout sessions* was dwindling down, Germany and I were left alone in his living room. I was blathering on about… something. I don’t know man, I was probably complaining. I was very depressed my first year of college and hadn’t come to terms yet with being gay. Anyway.

There was a small break between things I was saying and Germany looked at me and said the four most uncharacteristically horrible words in the English language when you’re unsure about your sexuality: “Can I kiss you?”

Without skipping a beat I kept on talking.

He asked again. “Can I kiss you?” I stopped talking, but didn’t answer. Finally he leaned towards me and we kissed. I remember his lips were cold, and that didn’t feel right to me. We (sort of) dated (messed around) for a few weeks. Things went south. I didn’t kiss another boy until I was 23. More on that later.

*hangout sessions???? who am i, my grandpa (he’d never say that RIP)?????

[awkwardexperiencesdating]

First Date With My Last Ex

We’ll call him Ken. My cousin would always refer to him as my “little Ken doll”

I had been trying to meet him in person for probably two months by this point, our Tinder conversations frequently starting and stopping without much of a warning. We’d miss eachother at Gay/Straight Alliance meetings which wasn’t too surprising since we both went infrequently. And I’m not sure how it happened exactly, but we finally set a time for a date.

The time comes, he shows up at my place, and we sit on my couch and start talking. It’s a little awkward at first, taking Ken a little while to open up, but eventually we find a groove when we both discover we like to write. We talk books, favorite shows, things we like to write about, I silently judge him, and we decide to go get Chinese food.

By the time we get back, my roommates have taken hold of the living room. At first I think “Ugh, come on” but then I think “Oh hey, this is an excuse to go to my room.” We eat Chinese food on my bed. We continue talking about writing and I bring up Stephen Sondheim and the brilliance that is the song “A Little Priest” from Sweeney Todd. I put on the song, we lay down facing eachother, and I go for it.

We kiss.

Before it can go into a full blown make out, he breaks off, pumps his fist and says “Yesssss!” like he was in a video game and just cleared an event. I’m a little annoyed because, hey, if he enjoyed it then why the hell did we break off? It takes a few minutes before we get back to kissing.

He ends up staying the night. We don’t cuddle. In the middle of the night we wake up and make out again and jerk each other off, then fall back asleep. I big spoon him a little, then roll over to my side of the bed. I love the size of my bed because I’m not forced to cuddle with anybody, and, yeah, I like Ken, but cuddling with him was never my favorite.

That entire week was one big date culminating in him officially becoming my boyfriend. We “officially” last a month.