The beginning of 2007 saw me in a place I’d not been for a while. I was single for the first time in two years. Since my last visit to this territory, I was a changed person. I now had experience of sex and love. I had a taste for it. I sought satisfaction of my cravings and in doing so, I wanted to forget about my ex. I wanted to wash that man right out of my hair like I would wash away knits. I was going to deal with this in typical man fashion; the best way to get over someone is by getting under someone. On an aside, I have since learned that this is so not true.
I developed a multi-pronged strategy of ways in how I might get myself out there. I would utilise friends of friends, dating sites, classifieds and make myself stand out in night clubs. Deep down I wanted to prove to myself I was capable of moving on and being an independent person. I was up for fleeting encounters or a blossoming romance. I really wasn’t that fussy. I just wanted a replacement. It all seems very pathetic now I look back on it, but this is genuinely how I felt. Pursuing romance was a bit like Pan’s Labyrinth; it was a journey of encounters with many freaks and oddities.
My journey spanned six months. To this date, I believe I put myself out there as much as a person just out of a relationship could. I’ve spoken with single friends and they agree I met many freaks. I would like to think I’ve provided a service to all the gay singletons out there. I have tagged those freaks with a big fuck-off blinking light to ward off doh-eyed singletons. Just in case warning lights are not sufficient, I have taken the liberty of detailing my experience with these individuals by giving them appropriate code names. This is the closest to a name and shame campaign I will ever get.
I met this one in a gay bar. He was a six foot, dark Spaniard that would steal the breath from any red blooded girl or gay man. We had a kiss and left the club soon enough. It was a rare weekend that I had the apartment to myself. I wanted to make the most of it. We went to bed and kissed a bit more. I made a purposeful move that he did not acknowledge. I tried to take it up a notch, once again. It was then I received more information about the Spaniard’s day than I cared to know. Apparently, he had masturbated twice that day and already slept with someone. I really didn’t know what to do with this information. I think my mouth remained open in shock until he left my house at 06.00 the next morning.
This boy wasn’t so much a freak as a complete mess. He was a very good looking guy that I met by creating a classified. We chatted for hours and to be honest had good fun. He seemed like a really nice guy. While chatting, he slipped up and it was obvious he had given a fake name. I was cool with it and we moved on. We drank lots of wine. He wasn’t too bothered with the wine, but seemed insistent that I drink it. We moved things to the bedroom. While lying on the bed, I realised I was fading out. “The room is spinning,” I exclaimed. “And not for the right reasons. It was then I fell asleep. The next morning, he was too sick to do anything. This was our last encounter. He told me he wanted a relationship with me and then revealed he only said that because he felt I wanted him to say it. I put an end to it by telling him to go ‘fuck himself’.
The Lenten Boy
I met this guy in the George. After the club had long finished serving, we walked to the night bus, where we chatted for hours. We texted most days until our next date. During one of these texts, he jokingly said he was giving up sex for Lent. The texts drew us to our next meeting, which happened to fall on Shrove Tuesday. I suggested we make pancakes at my house – pancakes accompanied by metaphorical coffee, I thought. We cooked up pancakes and had indepth conversation during which Lenten Boy revealed he once tried to kill himself. I could have vacated the room and he would have continued talking. We went to bed and had a bit of a snog. I then made my well-practiced, purposeful move. He told me he had given up sex for Lent. I looked at my watch and it was two minutes past midnight. Lent had ensued. I may have turned on my side and mouthed “OMG” in disbelief to myself a few times.
The Lesbian Boy
I went to a Lesbian club one night. It was unsurprisingly swamped with women. I managed to meet what I thought was a really nice guy there. We had a kiss and then exchanged numbers. I heard from him soon after and we arranged to meet for coffee. On our third date I had gastric flu and a cold sore. The facial herpes and excessive sweating due to fever did not seem to deter him. He was thrilled when I invited him to stay. The next morning he made a move on me and I said I didn’t think it was wise to get up to anything given my condition. He seemed puzzled so I spelt it out for him. He became really narky and started getting dressed. I asked him what the problem was. He told me I wasn’t the only one who could put the lid on the “honeypot”. As a friend put it, you have to be black to use terms like “honeypot”. The whole thing went tits up after that.