and then I slept with him. in Musings

The last few weeks that are warm in NYC. We all try to cram as much outdoor dining, drinking and happiness before we all go into hibernation for the next 8 months.

It never ceases to amaze me how small NYC is, yet I’ve come to expect the unexpected.

I am sitting at one of my favorite restaurants in the Flatiron district, with one of my guy best friends. He’s talking to me about how amazing some fashion show he just got out of was, and I’m pretending to be interested in all of the glamour that he assumes he is a part of. I’m sipping the last bits of rosé. I’m playing with the arugula on my plate.

I feel a shadow over my head and my friends eyes grew huge and pointed at what was behind me with his lips. And before I had a chance to turn around, my eyes are covered by two really strong, soft hands. I have no idea who it is and as I feel the hair on his arms and he plants a kiss on the top of my head, he whispers “guess who’s back mate?!”.

I recognize the voice and the accent but struggled to put a name to it. I reach behind me and I a really big chest and I hear him giggle. My friend says “blonde and tall Andy” as he giggles. “Lucas?” I say remembering one of my tall, blonde, English accent friends. “Who the fuck is Lucas?! Handsome.” The anonymous figure said.

I pull his hands off my eyes and he puts his hands on my chest and I start to realize that this is Mads.

I turn around and he kisses my cheek. And as completely confident and brutal as I remember him he looks at Randy and says “you his boyfriend or what are you to my handsome devil?” Randy turned all shades of red and said “NO! Just his friend!” And stared at Mads “if you’re his boyfriend, I’ll tell you now you are one of the lucky bastards in the world”

I again tried to diffuse the situation because as I remember Mads he is… Well very upfront and not a lot of people can deal with how straightforward he is. Once Mads finished his sentence, Mads crouched at our table and said to me “can I kiss you?” I smiled and nodded yes. As he jumped forward to my face and kissed me.

His lips tasted like red wine and pot. I pulled away from him and he smiled and mushed my hair on to my head “I can’t get you out of my damn head since I met you!” He said smiling and staring into me with his bright blue eyes, ” it’s like you’re made of god damn voodoo” he said as he moved away and started making his exit.

I invited him to have dinner with us and he was very cordial or at least as nice as he could be to Randy. Eventually, Randy left dinner because he felt utterly uncomfortable.

And it was just Mads and I. We must’ve had three bottles of wine. He called our impromptu meeting our first date. I laughed and told him that he just barged into a friend dinner and he said “I don’t give a fuck love. I can’t have you but I don’t want anyone else to have you either. I’m a selfish as hell”

Once he kept drinking and talking and explaining. I learned that he wants me so bad and he knows I want him too, but he also knows I’m so fucking broken that fucking me wouldn’t be beneficial to me and as he says “it would only cheapen how fucking sexy, drop dead beautiful you are” and he also said ” i fucking dropped down to my knees to kiss your feet, and left in a cab with a raging hard on”

but then i think…if someone you think is so attractive is giving you the green light to fuck them, wouldn’t you take it? then again, if I understand him, the way I think I do… I honestly would be afraid and intimidated to have sex with someone who I think is insanely hot, and I wouldn’t want to be the guy to have sex with someone who is clearly broken.

I asked for the check while he was in the bathroom and the waiter took too long to take my card— a fucking $465 bill for 3 bottles of wine and two appetizers… he came back from the bathroom and snatched the check off the table and threw my card in my lap and said “fuck outta here, you aren’t paying for shit mate. if I take you out, don’t ever do that again. Got it?” and I felt offended and looked at him like an asshole, and once he paid and signed, I felt icky and he read it on my face and my body language or even my energy and he said “sorry Andy, I know I’m a damn prick—I know you’re a man and I like that you can take care of yourself, but I don’t like when you don’t even give me a chance to take care of something silly like a bill and sneak behind my back, it doesn’t work that way with me” and he grabbed my hand and kissed it, pulled me up off my chair and wrapped his arm around my waist.

He makes me dizzy. He doesn’t make me feel like I’m so weak that I can’t take care of myself because he blatantly tells me that he knows I can take care of myself and I should let someone else, even for a moment just take care of me. I’ve never, ever had a guy just be so brutally honest with me, ever. It’s something that has made me question myself and has kept him in the forefront of my mind.

The guys I’ve dated are so much more weaker than I am in terms of their personality. He has made me realize that I need a man who is a lot stronger than me in terms of their character. Otherwise, they lash out on me in other ways, because I step over their own identity as a man. Alex wanting me to quit my job and then later on beating the shit out of me because that was the only way he could assert his manhood. I didn’t quit my job, everything I have and have had was because I could afford it and I could do it, but a lot of men, even gay men, don’t like someone who can take on financial burdens. I don’t like it when a man pays for me at all— on a date yeah… you can pay for me, but if you want to split the tab, I can do that too.

He makes my whole life come into focus. This is why Mads is so fucking assertive with me, he knows I can take care of it, but he also knows that he needs to put his foot down and tell me to take a backseat and not be angry at him if he wants to hold the reigns for a while.

When we walked out, I just exhaled and felt okay being on the passenger side. He bent over to tie his shoe and I fumble for a cigarette and I looked at him clearly. He’s tying his sneaker. He was wearing black skinny jeans with rips all over them a really baggy cowl neck shirt, a snap back that he flipped to the back of his head so that I wouldn’t bump into it when he would steal kisses from me. He wore a really big heavy black metal watch and a dog tag necklace.

I had this conversation with a friend how I don’t really look at guys bulges, when I’m checking them out, I look at there face and the way they carry themselves. But I totally was checking out Mads bulge and he caught me looked down at his pants and said “checking out my cock?” and grabbed my hand and pressed it against it and said “ill show it to you, you sexy little dirtbag” and laughed as he pushed me forward. Generally, I would feel really embarrassed about being caught, because it’s not in my nature to focus on bulges.

We walked and got gelatto (which I fought to pay for) and he told me his story. Being caught in the tsunami in Thailand, he lost his lover of 12 years—and then realized life was way too fucking short to be so obsessed with niceties and formalities. I learned that’s why he’s so brutally honest and assertive—he gets what he wants, he says what he feels and if someone doesn’t like it he doesn’t give a shit.

I told him I had a dream to be a writer and that struck him. “I’ll tell you something Andy. I don’t like anyone. I don’t talk to guys because they generally throw themselves on me anyway. I talked to you because you carried yourself alone at a bar like you owned the place, guys talked to you and you brushed them off, ignored them and when I talked to you, not only did I think you were crazy sexy, you were damn fucking confident without being cocky and now that I know you are a writer I realize this, with no offense, that you just remind me of that guy I loved who I never saw again that fucked up day”

Immediately I stopped him and told him to never compare me to anyone and he replied “no comparison, just an observation of why I’m so attracted to you, why I’m so scared to just throw myself on you. He was a writer, just like you, he would walk in to a bar and guys, girls, anyone—just like you would want to be around him, talk to him and I fucking hated it and that’s why I’m so crazy selfish with your attention” he said as his eyes welled up with tears “I’m drunk. Fuck mate, he was so easy to talk to—you are so easy to talk to, he didn’t know he was such an amazing, beautiful human being, just like you don’t how you affect people, he didn’t know either, ‘cause he was too caught up in being himself. I could just fall in love with you, not because I think he’s you, but because I gave up looking for someone who could equal or surpass how good he made me feel” he said grabbing my face and kissing me “I’m crazy about you and I now I know why, because you’re such a bright, crazy free-spirit and you’re so quiet, sweet and humble about it” he said kissing me again and I felt tears rolling down his face. “I’m sorry. I’m being drunk and weird” he said wiping his tears off harshly.

I smiled, kissed his beard and hugged him. His beard smells like crayons. His lips hidden behind all that hair. “You think I’m fucking crazy don’t you?” he said laying his head on my neck. “Nope. I just think you’re human” I wrapped my arms around him. “I think your drunk. It’s weird saying this to someone else besides myself, but I think you think to much” and his blue eyes burst wide open “I haven’t heard that in a long time”… and in an eerie fucked up way I knew that I said the same words that his lover would tell him.

“I just want to be inside of you, make you feel as good as you make me feel” he whispered “fuck that bastard who hit you and abused you, I’m a real man and I will keep telling you that you can’t be broken forever, you don’t know how special you are, he was scared of you” as I walked to my building, I invited him upstairs and he agreed to…

but nothing happened.

he pulled off his jeans and ripped off his shirt and laid with me in his undershirt. he kept his hat on and even though he was aroused he held me on his chest and we fell asleep together. No sex. He didn’t even go to third base and barely second.
There aren’t many men that can contain themselves when the opportunity for sex arises… but he was very, very strict about it. “Andy, I want to but, when you’re more stable, when that time comes, whenever it comes, I will fuck your brains out, you’ll be sick of my cock mate” he whispered heavily as he giggled and rocked me in his arms.

It was nice to just feel wanted so much but someone showing me, not telling me, showing me that I am worth so much more than just a fuck—or a notch on there bedpost, a conquest—telling there friends “I fucked the hottest guy” but they don’t tell there friend’s they fucked me because I am completely utterly broken, lonely and lost. Yeah great accomplishment dude, you were a fucking scavenger indulging in the remains of a carcass.