A while back I had a conversation with a group of fellow gay men about whether it's okay for a friend to sleep with another friend's ex. When I shared this story that I'm about to tell the whole group froze. I could feel everyone's eyes fixed on me, shooting rays of shock, judgment and disgust that roasted my flesh like a rotisserie chicken. I don't think anyone looked at me the same way for the rest of the discussion. I was afraid of that. I mean, it's not like I'm the only one that's ever done some triflin' underhanded shit. I'm just real enough to share my shit, in fact I know I'm not the only one, shit, as many homos as there in the conversation... LOL But now that I think about it, they got the abbreviated story, so I can kinda see why they felt the way they felt given that I never shared the state of mind I was in or the reason why I did what I did. Anyway, hopefully y'all will still love me after I share this.

It was Sunday, June 26th, 2005, the fourth Sunday in that month. In New York that is the day set aside every year for Pride festivities. On that day the gays literally take over New York, even more than we do every other day. While the gays were taking over New York I had plans for two gays in particular, myself and my boyfriend at the time, let's call him Michael, to take over another city, Philadelphia, about 90 miles away. At that time I was working as relief night night auditor at a hotel and my schedule really sucked. I worked every weekend, I was living at home and so was Michael so we really never got much of a chance to spend much quality time together (aka we didn't have the chance to fuck as much as I wanted to). I wanted us to get away but I only had two days off work in which to do it so we couldn't go too far. Philly was the perfect destination because it was far enough from the distractions of New York that we wouldn't be bothered by anyone but it was close enough that it wouldn't take a million years to get there.

On top of our time issues Michael and I just weren't getting along. We'd argue all the time and Lord knows I hate to argue. I felt that I was doing everything in our relationship and he contributed hardly anything, constantly taking me for granted. I was covering all the bases in our relationship, physically, emotionally, and definitely financially, did I mention financially? Not to get too cosmic on you but, he's a moody and at times bitchy Gemini and I'm an even tempered Leo, our upbringings were totally different from each other as well as our general outlook on life. They say opposites attract but we were steadily repelling. By that time we'd been together for about six weeks and I really liked him for the five minutes or so a day that he wasn't a total bitch or when we didn't fight. This being another one of my trademark, whirlwind relationships, we'd actually been through a lot in that short time, some of those things being, a major death in his family, his birthday, our sit down conversation with RuPaul in the Village, etc. I just didn't want things to end. I figured that this trip to Philadelphia and us having some time alone was just what the doctor ordered.

Maybe a week or two prior Michael and I were hanging out on Christopher Street. That usually consisted of me buying him weed and going to this dark ass park on Hudson Street to watch him and my ex-best friend Chuck smoke it. I've never touched marijuana or any illegal drugs for that matter in my whole life. I hated that he smoked that nasty shit, yet I used to buy it for him, among other things, like the cell phone he called every fuckin' body else but me on, including that guy from New Orleans he was fucking around with. I was so dumb back then, I digress. Anyway, one night on Christopher Street we met his friend, his best friend, let's call him Jerry. The moment we first laid eyes on each other, standing on Christopher between Hudson and Greenwich a few steps from Chi-Chiz, there was attraction. Jerry was so sexy to me. Michael was on a whole 'nother planet, ignoring me and anyone that wasn't him and didn't even realize what was happening between me and his friend.

While Michael and Chuck were doing their thing, Jerry and I got to talking. Though we were attracted to each other things were very innocent. I thought that Jerry was sexy as hell but my heart was still wrapped up in Michael. That night as me and Jerry talked we realized that we had so much in common, we were both raised in church, we both liked gospel music, and we were both homebodies. Jerry smoked weed, but hardly ever and he was actually in the process of trying to quit. He was just so nice and he actually listened to me and was genuinely interested in how I felt and what I had to say. It was such a breath of fresh air.

That night me, Michael, and Jerry went back to Brooklyn together on the train. When we got into the train Michael asked me for my iPod, something which he always seemed to be so fascinated by, and was sitting on the other side of the train, in another world listening to my extensive music collection obliviously while Jerry and I sat and talked. We were sitting there in his face, basically getting to know each other and Michael didn't say a word. Every so often I would look at him across the train and nothing, no reaction, no nothing. It's like he didn't care. As Jerry talked to me I can remember the movement of his full lips and the thin mustache that was wrapped around the top of them. I would have given anything to have those lips wrapped around my dick right then. Jerry was fuckin' sexy and so nice and we had so much in common and he listened to me. Damn, why couldn't I have met him first? As the train screeched toward his stop and he got up to exit, it took everything in me not to ask him for his number. I wanted to speak to him again. I wanted to kiss him. As much as I was attracted to him at the time I didn't think he felt the same way, at least not as strongly. We had shit in common and he was just being nice I figured. Once he left the train I turned and faced Michael, his aloof, indifferent ass, putting my earphones back in his ear after saying goodbye to his friend.

As days went by I never forgot about Jerry. I used to jerk off thinking about him, kissing those sexy ass lips of his and having them wrapped around my dick, laying next to him and just being with him. I didn't just want to fuck Jerry, I wanted to be with him. I wanted him to take me away from this passive-aggressive mess of a so-called relationship with his best friend that I was barely holding together with my good intentions. I wanted to call him so badly but I knew that there was no way for me to get in contact with him and that even though we had connected the way we did that he'd never betray his best friend. Maybe that's why Michael trusted him so much, that or he just didn't give a fuck about anybody but himself.

One night, again in the Village, only Chuck and I were hanging out, Michael and another friend of his had already gone home. I mean, I already bought the weed so why the fuck would he have to stay, right? We ran into Jerry and another friend of his in front of that supermarket on the corner of West 4th & Barrow. Jerry looked so damn good to me that night. I remember he had this white button down shirt on with pink stripes and he was talking to me again with those full lips and that thin mustache I'd been having so many illicit fantasies about. You'd think I would have gotten his number that night, right? Nope. All fantasies aside, I was still head over heels for Michael and Chuck was there with me. Even though he was supposed to be my best friend, Chuck had forged a weird weed smokin', sisterly bond with Michael. If I woulda asked Jerry for his number that night I know that bitch woulda told.

All this withstanding, I felt like our trip to Philly would be the cure to all of our relationship problems. So the day came, Sunday June 26th, we were gonna take the bus down that evening from Port Authority after making a quick in the Village by all the Pride festivities. I was running around like a madman all day doing all the necessary last minute things in preparation for our trip. I was really excited to go to Philly and just as excited to go to Pride that year because I'd never been before. Michael also informed me that we'd probably see Jerry out there before we left. Even though I'd been a while since I'd seen Jerry and I was grasping at straws, desperately trying to make this thing with Michael work out, the thought of seeing him again did excite me a bit.

As we were on our way from Michael's house he suggested that we skip the Pride festivities altogether and just go straight to Port Authority. I didn't want to do that because I had never been to Pride before and wanted to see it for myself. We argued about it. Michael didn't want to go because it was gonna be crowded and we had our bags. We didn't have a lot of bags though, it wasn't like we were going away for the rest of our lives here. He also stated that he'd been there many times before and didn't feel like going again. My argument was that I had never been before and that we were only gonna be there for a few minutes anyway. Like, what the fuck? Why did things have to be his way all the motherfuckin' time? Why couldn't he just work with me for once? He knew that I'd never been and that I was excited, what was the big fuckin' deal with dragging a bag for a couple of blocks?

Being that I was paying for the trip and everything else I won the argument. I was dragging his ass to Pride. I sat there in the aftermath, in the bittersweet victory of winning the argument we never should have had in the first place, listening to Keyshia Cole's "The Way It Is Album" (that had just dropped that last Tuesday) in silence. We hardly exchanged any words on our ride to West 4th that night. At that point I was having second thoughts about everything, about this trip, about this so-called relationship, about what the fuck was I doing here? Here I go planning all this shit and he's arguing with me about this one small thing. I just didn't understand. What more would I have to do? It was like his way or the highway all the time.

When we ascended from the subway station at West 3rd and 6th Avenue I saw that Michael was right. It was crowded, crowded as fuck, homos and lezzies as far as the eyes could see. I'd never seen anything like it before in my life. There were so many people that I talked to, messed with and hooked up with all in one place that we could have started a game of "This Is Your Life" right there on West 4th. I never acknowledged that Michael was right though. I was not gonna give him the satisfaction. I simply remained unbothered as we dragged our bags down the crowded sidewalk, bumping and pushing our way through the crowds. I wasn't gonna let that or Michael's constant sulking, whining, or bitching ruin my good time. If he wants to be an inconsiderate little bitch, then fuck him.

After a little while, Michael got his way and it was time to go. He mentioned that he wouldn't be able to say goodbye to Jerry before we left because Jerry was running late coming from church. I was a little disappointed. I know it was wrong and crazy but a part of me really wanted to see Jerry again. As we sat in the back of the taxi I just hailed, zipping up 6th Avenue, Michael got a phone call, yeah, on that phone that I'd been paying for. The call was from Jerry who had just got out of the train station, saying sorry that he missed us. They talked for a few minutes and then he asked to speak to me, just to say hello. I returned the pleasantry, nothing major, nothing incriminating anyway. I just enjoyed hearing the sound of Jerry's voice again. When Michael got off the phone he snuggled up next to me and it didn't feel right, suddenly it didn't feel so great anymore. Michael didn't look the same anymore and being with him didn't feel the same anymore. I was getting over him. I had a serious crush on my boyfriend's best friend.

While we waited for our bus at Port Authority everything Michael did just annoyed the shit out of me. I was so fuckin' tired of him and his bullshit. I was tired of him never having no damn money and always in my pocket for shit. I was tired of his annoying ass obsession with Beyonce. I was tired of him being so fucking ungrateful, thinking that everything I did for him I should be feel privileged to motherfuckin' do. Was he crazy? Did he see who I am and who the fuck he was? I was hanging around in the projects to be with this nigga. I had a good job, making good money, great for someone who was only 21 years old at the time. I didn't need this bullshit. As wrong as I realize I was now for thinking so aristocratically, he made me mad and it was how I felt at the time. You'd think with all of that pent up resentment that I would have just said fuck it and canceled the trip but I was way too much of a pussy for that. I figure I'd give it one last try and besides I was horny as shit.

So we arrive to Philadelphia late that night and I get jipped on an overpriced cab ride from downtown to our hotel across the Schuylkill River on City Line Avenue. We settle into our room and the first thing this nigga goes for is the pay-per-view, always tryna find a way to spend my motherfuckin' money. We had sex that night. I thought about Jerry the whole time, wishing that I was here with him instead of with Michael.

I woke up that next morning and went downstairs to the lobby for breakfast while Michael slept. I didn't bother waking him. I found out that I was too late to catch breakfast so I went back upstairs and saw that he was still asleep. Just then the most devilish thought came to my mind. I looked over Michael's nightstand at his cell phone, you know, the one that I was paying for. I picked it and took Jerry's number from it. I couldn't get Jerry off my mind and I had to speak to him again. After I programmed the number in my phone and carefully placed the phone back on the nightstand. I quietly snuck out of the room and went back down to the lobby to try to work out the breakfast thing and once I got that all squared away, I sat in a comfy, over sized chair and called Jerry.

Jerry and I talked for about a half hour. The conversation was totally innocent, nothing sexual at all. It was just good to get away from Michael and talk to someone else for a while. Which is funny because the whole point of this excursion was to get closer to Michael and here I go running away from him. I was still on the phone with Jerry as I walked back into our room, finding Michael awake this time. He asked me where I was. I replied, telling him that I was downstairs and continued my conversation. I walked over to the window, looking out on the Greater Philadelphia area, talking a mile a minute, knowing that Michael was wondering who I was talking to with such joy in my tone, so different from the inflection of misery and frustration in my voice when speaking to him as of late. I looked into Michael's questioning eyes and said into the phone:

"Oh, Jerry, Michael wants to speak to you."

Michael and Jerry talked like the girlfriends they were as he readied himself to come back downstairs with me. When they got off the phone we left the room and headed down to the lobby. As we sat in the restaurant, ready to feast on our fabulous free breakfast that I had to pull a few strings to get. Michael looked at me soberly and said:

"Adam, there's something I want to talk to you about.."

'Why, whatever could this be?' I thought as I chewed on my made-to-order bacon omelette and some of the sweetest strawberries I've ever tasted. When we got back to the room Michael went into this whole thing about how he doesn't want me to talk to his friends and how his friends, interestingly enough not Jerry though, have stolen boyfriends from him in the past, yadda, yadda, yadda. I just looked at him. At the end of his speech he basically threatened me, saying something to the effect of that he betta not catch me talking to one of his friends again. I looked at him stone faced as I laughed inside. Who the fuck does this nigga think he is? I'm a grown ass man, I talk to who the fuck I wanna talk to! Maybe if he knew how to treat a nigga his friends wouldn't be able to steal 'em from him.

What was funny was that through all of that I don't recall Michael ever asking me where I got Jerry's number from. And if he did I must have said some smooth ass shit to get myself out of that one. Honestly, I'm not even sure why I went about that the way I did. I never made a move on Jerry or talked to him on the phone again for the rest of the time I was with Michael. I guess I just wanted to light a little fire under his ass since he was taking me so much for granted.

Later that day we went out. I wanted to be a total tourist and take advantage of all Philadelphia had to offer. As we waited on City Line for the bus back downtown I was listening to my iPod. He asked me what I was listening to. It was Chaka Khan singing "Stormy Weather" from the "Classikhan" album. I put one of my earphones to his ear, hoping that we could share in this classical jazz moment. He quickly handed it back to me saying:

"I don't listen to this kind of music..."

What the fuck? What the fuck does he mean "this kinda of music"? Like real music, with fucking instruments and shit? Oh I'm sorry, that's right, if it's not a song by Beyonce then it's just not good enough for you is it? I mean, damn. I like Beyonce' as much as the next fag but he was ridiculous. Slightly annoyed, I took my earphone back and fully immersed myself back into the world of Chaka. Once we got off the bus, I dragged his lazy, no walking ass all over downtown Philadelphia. It wasn't Tahiti or San Tropez but this was my motherfuckin' vacation dammit and I sure as hell was gonna enjoy it, with or without him. He warmed up after a while though. We saw the Liberty Bell, which he actually got into, ate cheesesteaks at Jim's on South Street, and even pretended to pick out wedding/commitment rings on Jeweler's Row. We had a good day.

Later that evening we retired back to our room at the hotel. While he was in the bathtub singing Beyonce' songs at the top of his voice sounding like a cat getting fucked for the first time, by an elephant, Chuck called me. I told him that I was still thinking of Jerry, purposely omitting from the story my phone number espionage caper from earlier that day.

When we got back to New York things hadn't changed much between Michael and I. I escorted him back to his house and we quickly parted ways. That night was the first time I chilled with one of my current best friends, who you all know as Russell. He was dating my ex-best friend, Chuck at the time who turned out to be a much better friend to Michael than he ever was to me.

Pretty soon after that Michael and I broke up. We were too different. He was too broke and too busy calling that dude he was fucking with from New Orleans on the phone I was paying for. Do you know he got caught up in Hurricane Katrina dealing with that fool? He's fine though.

Remember, when I said that I didn't call Jerry for the rest of the time that me and Michael were together. Well, about four and a half months later in November of 2005 I called Jerry. We got together. All through the course of our relationship he felt as though he was wrong for getting with me after Michael had been with me. There were even days that he would talk to Michael and never mention that he was seeing me. As cool as Jerry was, like his friend Michael he was kinda on the broke tip as well, but unlike Michael he was working and at least grateful for any help I gave him. I never minded helping him though. We didn't have much money as a couple but we sure had a lot of fun. Jerry broke up with me in January, 2006 on suspicion of infidelity. I didn't cheat on him. We met up and chilled together for two days sometime early 2007. He annoyed me with his Beyonce obsession, among other things and I stopped calling him.

Fast forward three years later. Michael has caught back up with me online. He's back in New York, living in the same projects he used to live in. He's been flirting with me, throwing me hints but I've been paying his ass no mind.

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Playing In The Background...
"You Make Me Wanna..."
by Usher
from the album "My Way"
and
"I'm Not Perfect" feat. The Clark Sisters
by Missy Elliott
from the album "This Is Not A Test"
and
"You've Changed"
by Keyshia Cole
from the album "The Way It Is"
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Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 01:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (14) | TrackBacks (0)

A few years ago I met this guy online, let's call him Thomas. Thomas and I talked online for a while, exchanging pleasantries, being flirtatious, being sexual. We exchanged numbers and continued to talk every so often. One sunny afternoon out of the blue Thomas calls me and says that him and his friend are in my area and that I should be outside in fifteen minutes. I told him that I would need more time than that to get ready. I was meeting him in person for the first time and I wanted to make a good impression. He insisted that it wasn't necessary and that he had only just thrown himself together so there was no need for me to do anything extravagant. I jumped up and tried my best to get somewhat ready in such a minimal time.

After having them outside waiting in the back of my building for about about fifteen minutes, fifteen more than the fifteen I was originally supposed to be ready in, I got to the car. Thomas stepped out of the passengers seat of the car onto the cracked sidewalk, we shook hands. He was attractive, cute even, he looked better than his pictures and he was definitely right about not being put together. He had on an old ratty looking t-shirt, some sweats and some flip flops. As messed up as his outfit was it took nothing away from his looks though. Upon entering the car I greeted his friend as well. Thomas looked back, smiled and asked me why I was so well put together. He reiterated the fact that he said over the phone that I didn't have to do anything special. Then he asked me was that why I was took so long. I have to admit I was a little embarrassed, but it was cool though. His queries were all in fun.

We drove around for a while as Thomas' friend was running various local errands. During the ride I was pretty much silent in the backseat. I was just passively listening to their conversation and watching their dynamic. I like to watch friends, especially best friends, interact with each other, there's nothing like it. These two were definitely best friends. Every so often they would look back at me just to make sure I was still alive.

We ended up going back to Thomas' friend's apartment. His apartment was very nicely decorated. You could tell that a gay man lived there. After sitting on the couch a while Thomas declared that he was taking a shower. As he walked toward the bathroom he grabbed my hand and I followed him. We got into the bathroom and as soon as the door closed behind us we grabbed at each other like animals, kissing, fondling and grabbing at each other ravenously. We eventually got out of our clothes and made it to the shower where our foreplay continued, hot and heavy in the steam of the running water. Right when I was about to enter him he stopped me.

"Adam, stop. I can't do this..."

"What's wrong?"

"I can't do this..."

"Why?"

"I'm positive."

I couldn't breathe. I stood naked with my back up against the moist tiled wall, my head spinning like a centrifuge. Here I was about to fuck this dude with no condom (as most people don't exactly keep them on the soap dish). What was so crazy was that I pretty much knew I was gonna get some that day and I had condoms and lube on me in my jacket. I just never bothered to go get them. It would have ruined the mood and the spontaneity of the moment. In all this time I never even bothered to ask what his status was. It never even came up in all of our prior conversation. This was the first time in all of my fucking around that I was confronted with HIV. I never really talked about it much before. I knew my status, I'd been tested, but I never really discussed it much with my partners. He continued.

"I want to. I really want to but. I had to let you know. You're such a nice guy."

"Wow, how did this happen?"

In retrospect I see what a dumb ass question that was for me to ask, but I asked anyway. He proceeded to tell me that he pretty much knew who he contracted the virus from and that he tried to confront that person but the person moved to another state and changed their phone number. He said that his best friend, the one in the living room was one of the only people who knew. With a little sass in his voice he also said:

"Oh, and don't think that I'm the only one. If you're out here fucking around I know I'm not the first person who you've run into who has the virus. I'm just the first to tell you."

With sex, but a distant memory, we finished our shower, in silence. I wasn't angry, or scared, or disgusted by him or anything like that. I knew better, I knew the facts, I knew that HIV wasn't just gonna jump on me just because I was in the shower with him. I wasn't necessarily done with him either, he was a really cool person and HIV wasn't gonna change that. I was just sober, soberly thinking about all the fucking around I'd done, all the possibilities, how fucked up that person was who infected Thomas and just ran away and how Thomas didn't even have to tell me about his status, it's not as though I asked. I also wondered exactly why he told me. It was all just so crazy, he was so young, so good looking, he didn't look sick, he wasn't in a hospice with tubes running out of his body. He was nothing like I imagined HIV to be, he was like, like me.

We dried off and went back into the living room the friend was sitting on the couch like nothing happened. I guess from his perspective nothing did happen. He wasn't in the shower. We got dressed and ended up back in the friend's car. As we drove around I sat in the back of the car in uncertainty until Thomas asked:

"What train station do you wanna be dropped off at?"

They dropped me off at the train station. We said our goodbyes and I never heard from Thomas again. The scariest thing about that story had nothing to do with Thomas but everything to do with me. I totally let sex cloud my better judgment that day. I knew so much better than to do what I was gonna do but almost did it anyway. He had to be the one to stop me from protecting ME. How sick is that? Not being able to trust yourself to do what you know is best for yourself, that's scarier than anything else that happens on Halloween.

I remember sharing this story with my one of best friends about a year after it happened. We were sitting in the Village talking about life and the virus and it's effect on our community. We also talked about the 46% statistic, which now I heard is up to 48%. I told him that with statistics like that it's like it's either me or you now. Any one of us is can be one test away from a positive result. That's one of the reasons why I am never one to judge. We can get tested and we can take all of the necessary precautions and not be promiscuous of course but if you've ever been sexually active there's never any way to be 100% sure. Your test can come back negative today and show up positive a few months from now as HIV can lie dormant in your system before there is enough antibodies of it to be detected by a test.

I'm no doctor and you can always look up the facts from a much more reliable medical source than me but the point I wanted to convey here was that we all need to make better decisions. We also need not judge anyone, especially those with HIV because none of us are exempt. I have friends today with HIV and I love them, respect them, and treat them as I would any other friend and they are all fine, healthy, dating and living their lives as they should be. At times in the midst of all of our fun and day to day living I forget that they even have the virus. They have to remind me at times and that's the way it should be. It's not something I need to dwell on. HIV, as unfortunate as it is is not a death sentence.

Thomas was the first person I ever met with HIV and as dumb as it sounds today, back then I really was shocked at how healthy and quote-unquote "normal" he looked. My experience with Thomas taught me how important it is to be nice to people, all people and to have an aura of openness about myself so people could feel comfortable telling me anything. I actually wish that Thomas would have kept up with me. I tried to correspond with him after that but to no avail. I don't fully understand why he never wanted to talk to me again but I respect his decision. I never got a chance to thank him for that day in the shower. He taught me more than all the sex education classes in the world could have taught me and I'm different today because of it.

==========
Playing In The Background...
"It's O.K."
by BeBe & CeCe Winans
from the album: "BeBe & CeCe Winans Greatest Hits"
==========

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 03:20 PM | Permalink | Comments (10) | TrackBacks (0)

==========
I'm reposting this one because it's a classic, one of my absolute favorites and one people still talk about to this day. If I didn't live this one I wouldn't believe it myself.

Enjoy.

Originally posted on September 11, 2007 10:15 AM
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I'm an advocate for online dating. I think it's great. Of course like any other kind of dating you should be careful about meeting strangers and you should be selective of who, when, where, and how long it will take before you are ready to meet somebody. On the other hand everyone is a stranger until you get to know them, right? To me meeting people online much better than getting dressed and going out to a club because it's free and you can do it in the privacy of your own home and talk to as many people as you want to one time and rejection is just a click of a mouse! All their info is on their profile, it's like ordering takeout. This series will focus on some of the not so good experiences I've had with online dating.
Enjoy.
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This has to be the absolute worst date I have ever had and I have had some bad ones, as you know. I wouldn't believe this story if I hadn't lived it myself.

I was online in the middle of the night at work about two years ago. I was talking to this guy. Unlike most guys I've talked to online he lived two states away. We talked online and over the phone for about a week. Things seemed to be going well considering the fact that we had only known each other for such a short period of time. Being the proactive person that I am I offered to take a bus to go out there where he was and stay over with him the next time I had a day off from work. He was delighted and anxious to meet me in person.

So a few days later I boarded a bus to go and meet him. Let's call him Long Distance Lover, LDL for short. Now you know LDL had to provide me with dayum near a magazine quality photo spread before I agreed to travel that far to meet him. My philosophy with photo spreads is this. Expect the person to look like their worst picture in the photo spread. If you can deal with that, then you can deal with the person. Remember, photos capture only a moment in time, a mere nanosecond of a person's existence, lighting and angles are everything. I always say if you meet anyone from online, the more photos the better.

LDL met me at the bus station once I arrived to his city. As I thought, he looked the most like his worst picture, which was okay. He wasn't drop dead gorgeous, but I wasn't about to use my return ticket right then either. We walked from there to his house. He'd already informed me that he lived with his mother who he told me was okay with my sleepover visit and his sexuality in general. You know I had to ask, I ain't that crazy.

When we reached LDL's place his mom was there, she was cooking at the time. I met her, she seemed very nice, but as much as I hate to speak ill of anyone's mother I have to say that LDL's mom didn't seem to be all there mentally. She seemed as though she had suffered through some type of mental problem or trauma in her past, she didn't seem dangerous, or scary though. She was very nice, warm and accommodating, she even offered me some of the dinner she was cooking. I ate and it was good. I had just gotten off work early that morning and I was really tired. LDL showed me to the room where I'd be sleeping and I took my clothes off and took a little nap.

I drifted in and out of sleep in LDL's bed unable to really get comfortable, number one because I was in another state in a strange bed, number two because everyone else in the house was still awake. LDL came up and and chilled with me for a while. I remember us messing around for a little bit but nothing significant happened. He left and went back downstairs and I drifted off back into my pseudo-sleep. In one of my more awake moments out of slightly opened eyes I saw his mother come into the room for a second, she did something and quickly left. I'm not sure exactly how much time had past but my fatigue had taken over and I finally fell asleep. I was awakened by the sound of LDL and his mother arguing from downstairs.

"Who's that naked man in my bed?"

LDL's mother yelled. He yelled back something indistinguishable. I'm laying there like 'What the fuck?' Still somewhere between awake and asleep hoping this shyt is some kinda crazy dream. I hear her yell again:

"Who's that naked man in my bed?"

'Oh shyt! This is fuckin' real! What the fuck is going on?' I thought. As I opened my eyes I noticed that the room was oddly feminine. Why the fuck would this nigga have me sleeping in his mother's bed? There are two bedrooms in the house. And does she not know what was going on? She was cool a little while ago. Then I hear footsteps coming up the stairs. I close my eyes and pretend like I'm asleep. LDL comes into the room, takes the phone and goes back downstairs. A few seconds later I hear LDL saying something like this:

"Hello, police....
My mother is here and I need her picked up.
She's mentally unstable and refuses to take her medication.
She has become violent."

'Oh hell fuckin' no! I gotta get outta here!' I thought as I sat up trying to devise a plan. Unfortunately there's only one exit and I can't get out without going past them and Lord only knows what's going on downstairs. Several minutes later I hear more footsteps coming up the stairs. I almost got whiplash I flung my head back down on that pillow so fast. LDL's mother comes into the room, takes me by my hand and leads down the stairs.

"See, this the naked man in my bed, I'm not crazy!"

LDL's mother said as I stood there dumbfounded in the middle of the living room floor in my boxers in front of her, LDL, and two police officers. Okay, the police have been called, this is officially the worst date ever.

"Go back upstairs!"
LDL yells at me.

"I don't understand why my son punkin' like this..."
LDL's mom says, nearly crying.

"Do you know this gentleman?"
The policeman on the left asks me.

"Yeah we're friends..."
I answer.

"I don't understand why my son punkin' like this..."
LDL's mom repeats.

"Go back upstairs!"
LDL yells at me again.

I'm 'bout tired of this nigga yellin' at me. It ain't my fault his mama crazy. He shoulda told me this shyt. This is the typa shyt you fuckin' tell a person before they travel to another state. I proceeded to go upstairs and start putting on my shyt. 'I'm getting the fuck outta here!' I thought. A few minutes later LDL comes upstairs and sees me getting ready to go.

"What you doin'?"

"Gettin' up outta here."
I answer.

"Why, why you leavin'?"

This nigga can't be serious.
"'Cuz I see Im' causing a problem here."

"Nah, it's aight. She's gone. They took her. You couldn't get back on a bus anyway now. The bus station is closed. So you mind as well stay until in the morning."

I look at my cell phone and notice that it's after one in the morning. Shyt! That bus station probably won't open until at least five or six. Once I realized I was stuck I undressed again and climbed back into bed with him. He tried to mess around with me but at that point I was still tired and really, really, really not in the mood. All I wanted to do was go home. He kept pressuring me though and we ended up doing a little something. I was so not into it though. Soon after we went to sleep. I totally regretted this whole thing and vowed to never travel this far for a date again. A few hours later we were awakened by a loud banging on the door.

"Let me in! Let me in!"

You guessed it, homegirl was back. I'm not sure how she got back but she was back. By this time it was a little after 5am and pouring raining outside. I'm laying there, totally not believing this shyt is happening to me. He went downstairs to let her in. He managed to find a way to calm her down and get her quiet. After that we switched rooms. Me and LDL were downstairs on the couch and his mother slept upstairs in her bed. That led me to ask him why the fuck we were in her bed to begin with. I also wondering what the hell fuckin' body they were hiding in that other bedroom? This whole thing was too weird for words. I was ready to go.

He explained to me that ever since his mother got sick they slept in the bed upstairs together, but tonight was different because I was here. She was scared to sleep alone. Touching story, violins playing, all that, but I wondered why he didn't bother telling me any of this before I got there. We didn't have to sleep together. I was totally fine chillin' with him and then sleeping alone on the couch. LDL coulda slept with his mother. I didn't mind, especially if it would have helped to avoid this mess. Oh yeah, and judging from his mother's reaction in front of the police LDL wasn't one hundred percent forthright with his mom about his sexuality. The nigga lied to me. So I was really over him now.

To give LDL the benefit of the doubt I guess he was tired of sleeping with his mom. He was a grown ass gay man with hormones and like the rest of us grown ass gay men I'm sure he wants to feel the touch of another man sometimes (all the time for some of us). Thankfully I have never been in the place to have to take care of a debilitated parent, I'm sure it's hard and on top of that he's all alone.

An alarm clock goes off, it's 9 am. LDL wakes up for work and asks me whether I wanted to go to work for a few hours with him or stay there as we were supposed to spend the day together. After last night I was so not into it anymore. In an effort to accelerate my escape back to New York I told him that I'd rather stay and that he could come back and scoop me up later. LDL leaves. Of course that means I was alone in the house with LDL's mother. She was upstairs asleep and this was my perfect opportunity to sneak out. In retrospect I shoulda just told his ass 'Yo mama crazy, I'm over this, I'm leaving.' But I really didn't wanna discuss this with him and I know he was already embarrassed enough after how his mom behaved the night before. I figured at the time that slipping out was the least dramatic way to handle things.

As I quietly slipped on the rest of my clothes. I realize that I left the olive green Lacoste polo I was wearing upstairs in the room. 'Oh well, fuck the shirt!' I thought as there was no way in hell I was going back up there. I heard LDL's mother come downstairs and start stirring around, of course that was my cue to pretend I was asleep again. Just then LDL called me on my cell phone. I didn't answer. He called again, and again, and again. Then he called the house phone there. His mother answers the phone. I realized that he was gonna ask her for me. The butterflies were fluttering like crazy in my stomach as I felt her presence come closer to me with the phone.

"It's for you."
She says to me leaning over the back of the pull out couch with the receiver in hand.

"Oh and I'm so sorry for last night, baby."
She continued, and flashed me the sincerest of smiles as I took the phone from her hand.

It was LDL. He was telling me that he was gonna send his friend to come pick me up in a little while. Little did he know my black ass was gonna be long gone before that happened. So after the conversation with LDL I snuck back upstairs to get my Lacoste polo. Shyt, mama was fine now I may as well get all my shyt before I bounce. As I quietly made my way out just inches from the doorknob. LDL's mother stops me.

"Excuse me baby, I was supposed to pick up a refill of these pills from the drug store. Can you get them for me baby?"

Is she fuckin' serious? This is the same woman that no more than ten hours ago dragged me in front of the police in my underwear like I was a common criminal. Now she wants me to do her favors like I'm the son she never had. Homegirl really is crazy. I was too close to getting the hell out of there to argue. She handed me the bottle of pills and I pretended to phone the pharmacy (without pressing any buttons on my cell phone, she didn't notice). After my fake conversation with the pharmacist I told her that they said she would have to come and pick up the medication herself.

And that was it. I was outside, I was free. I ran my black ass back to that bus station like I never ran before. I navigated the streets of that city like I had lived there my whole life. Thank God for my good memory and impeccable sense of direction. I didn't make one wrong turn. All the while LDL was blowing up my cell phone. I didn't answer and I was on the lookout for him as well. I wasn't in the mood to be nice, I wasn't in the mood to understand, I wasn't in the mood to explain, I just wanted to go home.

I finally got to the bus station. I found out that the next bus back to New York was leaving at 11am. By that time it was a little past 10. The bus station was all glass in front and I knew that LDL was probably looking for me. So I hid out in the back, obscured between the snack and soda vending machines until the bus arrived. I had never been so happy to see a bus in all my life. All during the ride back to New York LDL kept blowing up my phone. He had to have called like 20 times. I so didn't feel like talking to him.

The next day he called me again. This time I answered. He asked me whether I wanted to continue speaking to him as if not answering his four hundred and twenty-six phone calls weren't enough of a sign. I kindly told him that I did not want to continue speaking to him and I haven't heard from him ever since.

I feel for LDL as his situation was quite unfortunate. He should have told me about his circumstances before I came to visit him. I know it's a hard thing to tell someone that you hardly know but in this situation it was definitely necessary. He was a cool person, if he had told me about his mom I honestly would have understood and probably would have come to see him anyway. He also should have also not changed his routine with his mom so abruptly. I would have been cool adjusting to the way things were in their home. My presence was no reason to switch things up. Hopefully this experience taught LDL to tell people the full truth before inviting them over.

==========
Playing In The Background...
"Long Distance Love"
by Tamia
from the album "A Nu Day"
==========

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 03:30 PM | Permalink | Comments (9) | TrackBacks (0)

"The sex is just immaculate, from the back I get
Deeper and deeper, help ya reach the,
Climax that your man can't make,
Call him, tell him you'll be home real late..."
  -Notorious BIG
   from the song "One More Chance (remix)"

"How you like it baby? Uhh, from the front,
Uhh, from the back, give that ass a smack,
Bet your man won't do it like that,
Can't work the middle, plus his thing too little..."
  -Diddy
   from the song "No Time" with Lil' Kim

Late one night, two years ago, at two o'clock in the morning I was online IM-ing with this guy, let's call him Anderson. Anderson and I had been talking off and on sparingly via IM and telephone for about a year or so but for whatever reason had never actually met. We'd exchanged pictures and I was definitely attracted to him and I was pretty sure that the feeling was mutual. Our IM conversation that night turned sexual. As things were getting hot and heavy Anderson asked me to come see him. As badly as I wanted him I was having second thoughts due to the fact that it was already 2am and he was about an hour and a half away on the subway, but he was fine, I was horny, I didn't have to work until the afternoon the next day, so I thought, fuck it I'll go and I went.

I was so tired on the train that I missed my transfer stop, dozing in and out of sleep, the things we do for sex. You'd think that after missing my stop that I'd be deterred from my mission. But nope, not at all, common sense be damned, this was a sure thing. I have wanted to fuck this dude ever since the first time I saw him online and dammit we fuckin' tonight.

I finally get to his house and see him for the first time, he's fine, better than he looked in his pictures. I sat on his bed, I got comfortable and we stumbled through awkward small talk until he kissed me, shutting me the fuck up. Then it was on, the clothes somehow came off and I fucked him, longstroking from the back, watching my dick slide in and out of him, talking more shit than a porno movie. "Yeah, you like that?" "What's my name? What's my motherfuckin' name nigga?" "Who's dick is this?" "Who's ass is this?" "Who's ya daddy nigga?" "Is this what the fuck you been wantin' nigga?" "Tell me you love my shit nigga!" "Gimme that ass nigga!" All while he moaned my name, burying his head in his pillows. We ejaculated, we fell asleep. I woke up a few hours later so I could have enough time to get ready for work.

I called him later that day, no answer. The next day, no answer. No answer to my IM's online either. What the fuck? We have sex and now he doesn't wanna talk to me anymore. He's one of those faggots, the ones who can let a nigga fuck them and that's it. Aight, I see how it is. So after a few days I stopped calling, shit, fuck that, I'm not running after him, I already fucked him already so I guess I got I wanted, even though I really wanted to get to know him better. I still wondered why he didn't want to talk to me though, what had I done wrong? Dealing with men has taught me though that sometimes it's just better not to even ask why because you'll drive yourself crazy. I'm a man and I still have yet to figure men out. It's just best to take whatever good there is from a situation, put that in your pocket and move on, for your own sanity.

A few days after I decided not to even think about Anderson anymore and accept the nutt for what it was, he hits me up online, of course, once I'm over it and finally feeling somewhat okay about things, of course. He tried to make small talk and explained his behavior. He proceeded to tell me that he was actually talking to someone else at the time when we had sex and that he and that person were on the eve of becoming more serious. I was basically the last hoorah, the fireman stripper that the bride let fuck her the night before the wedding. He asked me whether we could be friends. I proceeded to cuss his ass out and tell him to never speak to me again. From then on I was hurt, I really liked Anderson. We talked on and off for like a year. I wanted to at least have a chance with him. Why did he do that to me, why did he just use me like that just to sow his last wild oats. Why didn't he tell me what the deal was? And who the fuck was this guy anyway? What made him so special that he could roll over from me and back to him? I know I did I good job in that bedroom, you can't fake that shit. What did he have that I didn't have? I guess him and his dude had a preexisting emotional connection. I just wish he hadn't used me for his cruel relationship experiment and had me get my feelings all involved.

A few months later I went out with a friend, who introduces me to his friend, let's call this friend Wayne. Me my friend and Wayne go to a party. On the way back home my friend falls asleep leaving me and Wayne awake. Wayne starts to talk to me, flirting with me in the most crass, vile and slightly drunkened way possible. There was not a damn thing attractive about Wayne, at least not to me, especially now with him drunk-ish and his breath smelling awful. He's flirting with me and I'm so not interested, yet he persists, fueled by an empty, overly ambitious, mind numbing, class, league, and caste unconscious bravado that only liquor can give. This dude was not only unattractive, disrespectful and inexplicably cocky, he was trying to fuck me. After I finished laughing and let him know that I was a top and that I'm not getting down like that. He let me know that he's on his way to his shorty's house as a segue into finding out where I live, as if I'm gonna tell him. He just doesn't stop. The next day after I told my friend what happened, about how his friend tried to pick me up, he let me know who Wayne's "shorty" was. I was the stripper, Anderson was the bride, and Wayne was the groom. Anderson stopped talking to my for Wayne's sorry ass! Is he serious, yuk! He must have gotten into his whole bad boy-ish, homo thug thing he had going. Whatever, good for them. If he liked it I loved it. By that time I was way over Anderson anyway. I just laughed and kept it moving.

About a week or two later I get an IM from Anderson. By this time I had a new screen name but somehow he found me. He apologized for all that had happened and wanted to make amends with me. I agreed, we exchanged numbers and then he called. He began to tell me about all the problems he was having with Wayne, as he didn't know that I knew who Wayne was yet, and I listened. Later in the convo I admitted that Wayne and I had met. He alluded to the fact that people say that he's too good for Wayne, almost in a way that made him sound ashamed of Wayne. He then asked me what I thought, but I'm way too much of a politician to answer questions like that. Then he told me that sometimes he wishes that he had chosen me over Wayne. I have to admit that statement did bring me some ill-gotten joy. If I were petty I would have told him how Wayne tried to pick me up that night a while back but I didn't, some things are better left unsaid. After that night Anderson and I became friends.

As time went on our friendship became stronger and stronger. We worked not to far from each other so there would some days here and there where we'd have lunch together. The main course served would always be Wayne and his latest caper. About how Wayne would cheat, or lie, or say something fucked up or any combination of the three. I never understood why Anderson let Wayne play him the way he did. Wayne would never let him have any friends. Wayne never liked for him to go anywhere without him. Wayne didn't even know about the lunches we had together. He let Wayne get in his head and totally fuck up his confidence. Anderson would always complain about how he looked, how he couldn't do this, couldn't do that, just negativity all the time. I wanted the old Anderson back.

I told Anderson that I would like to come out to his boyfriend, the two of us being friends, without disclosing our sexual history because at that point I felt totally platonic toward Anderson. My sexual feelings turned into feelings of friendship, brotherhood and now sorrow toward Anderson. I wanted to be able to take him out and have him chill with me and my friends and have some fun and not be stuck in the house waiting on Wayne all the time. I wanted him to see himself as beautiful, like I saw him. He told me that Wayne would never like the idea of us hanging out because I'm a top like he is. He would be afraid of us messing around behind his back.

It's like I knew him but I didn't know him anymore. This was not the person I had talked to and first met over a year ago. He was so empty, it's like Wayne had taken over his mind or something. I remember asking Anderson one day "Does Wayne hit you?" It was crazy, he was like a battered wife or something, a glutton for punishment, but why? Wayne ain't got shit? What was he getting out of this? It baffled me. Seeing someone who I was once so attracted to succumb to this made him so unattractive. Through it all Anderson would still flirt with me and still tell me that he should have chosen me. I would always counter, turning things around, bringing it right back to Wayne, saying things like "Would your husband like it if he heard you talking like that?" and "Does Wayne know you're talking to me?" Anderson would get so mad at me when I did that. But I had to show him how foolish he was.

A few months later Anderson texted me, getting at me hard on the sexual tip. I did my usual Wayne counter but it didn't work that day because Wayne was out of town. So I came over and we talked and I ended up fucking him. I fucked Anderson longer, harder, and rougher that I did the first time and it felt better than the first time. As I fucked Anderson I felt like I was fucking Wayne's sorry ass too. I was hurting him for how he hurt me all the times he hurt my friend, cheating on him, and saying all that fucked up shit, for how he tried to holla at me like I was some fuckin' bird-ass nigga. So yeah Wayne, fuck you, fuck you and now I'm fucking your boyfriend and he's loving it, saying my name, calling me daddy and all that.

After we finished having sex as we were putting our clothes on I was in the mirror, looking at myself, feeling like the motherfucking man when Anderson said to me. "Wow, it's been a long time since I've taken a dick that large. I hope Wayne doesn't notice. I may have to take a bath in some Epsom Salts before he gets back." After I questioned that statement he went on to tell me that Wayne's dick is small, I mean, not really small, but not really big either, but considerably smaller than mine, and smaller than most people would think, given his bravado, swagger, thug appeal, etc. Even I had to admit I thought that the brotha must have been packin', I mean after the bravado he put up when tried to talk to me and the way that he has Anderson's mind all fucked up, I just knew he was tearin' it up in the bedroom. That had to be why Anderson has stayed this long. Anderson went on to tell me that it has even caused problems in their relationship. It's not even that Anderson is dissatisfied with Wayne's size but it's that Wayne is dissatisfied with it himself. He's also super self-conscious about it. That explained a lot Wayne's behavior, the cheating, the belittling of Anderson, he wanted to feel like a "real man", and here's the root of it all, laying bare and exposed before me, to manipulate at my leisure. This made things even more sweet.

That wasn't the end of the sex-capades between me and Anderson, we met again and again once with him sucking my dick, and me fucking him again, we even snuck off and made out in a club bathroom once. Knowing that I could literally satisfy him in ways his man couldn't, hitting spots his man couldn't, was an amazing, euphoric feeling that last way beyond the last cumshot. Looking down at my phone and seeing text messages saying "I need that big ass dick again Daddy..." and hearing him say "He fucked me last night and I closed my eyes wishing it was you..." is an ego boost that can't be described. He had his head, he had his heart, but that ass was mine. Seeing them out together places, having Wayne say "Whaddup?" to me, thinking that we only know each other from the night he tried to talk to me, hoping I don't spill the beans to his boyfriend that he thinks I don't know, not knowing that I've been fucking his boyfriend all along, and even not seeing the sly wink his boyfriend gives to me as we talk, it was wrong. I was wrong, we all were wrong and using each other. Although it wasn't my only intention, I was using Anderson, my friend for sex, an ego boost. Anderson used me to make himself feel desirable and as a way to get back at Wayne, an ego boost, he also used me for sex. Wayne was using Anderson for validation, an ego boost, someone he could treat like shit and would still be there, someone he could pick up and put down at his leisure.

Anderson has never answered my question, what does Wayne have that I don't have? But as I said, sometimes it's just better not to even ask why because you'll drive yourself crazy. At this point I don't even care anymore because I don't want a romantic relationship with Anderson anymore, we're not even messing around anymore. All of this is in the past. I've just taken an evil solace in the fact that any time I look at Wayne for the rest of our lives I'll be able to say that "my dick is bigger than yours."

==========
Playing In The Background...
"One More Chance (remix)"
by Notorious BIG
from the album "Ready To Die"
and
"No Time" feat. Diddy
by Lil' Kim
from the album "Hard Core"
and
"Not Big"
by Lily Allen
from the album "Alright, Still"
and
"Taken"
by Cherish
from the album "Unappreciated"
and
"She Don't Have To Know"
by John Legend
from the album "Get Lifted"
and
"Wish U Was My Girl"
by Babyface
from the album "Face2Face"
==========

Now I realize that that's a very petty and shallow way to be, I totally realize that. It's a terrible thing way to be. But what's interesting to see is that no matter who, what, or how much we have, and how smart and evolved that we say we are, that we as humans, especially male humans that we are all still animals. At the end of the day the most important thing to almost every man, gay or straight is the size of his dick and the validation it gets or doesn't get him. It was important to me, Wayne was obsessed with it and I'm sure it's somewhat important to you.

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 06:07 PM | Permalink | Comments (8) | TrackBacks (0)

You'd think that with all the stuff I've shared with y'all I would have told this story eons ago, but this morning when I was brushing my teeth, looking in the mirror I realized that I never shared this with y'all.

Due to my numerous sex-ploits most people who meet me think that I must have been fuckin' since I was ten. Actually, it's quite the contrary my friends. I did not have sex, any kind of sex, oral, anal, penetration, with a guy or girl until I was twenty years old, only four and a half years ago. I didn't even kiss a guy until I was 20. Yeah, let's just say that I've made up for a lot of lost time in the past few years. While a lot of you homos kissed, bumped, grinded, and fucked your way through your teenage years, in many ways cultivating your confidence as a gay man, I was too busy crying to God so that he could take this "gay demon" out of me that everyone convinced me I had and when I wasn't doing that I was contemplating suicide.

One major part of me snapping out of that whole self hatred thing was meeting my first love. In retrospect I guess I couldn't say that we quote-unquote "loved" each other but the feelings between us were very strong. He was my first kiss, with a guy, the first time I had sex, period (I've never had sex with a female, and never really wanted to, like hello, I'm gay). He was my everything and I'll never forget him. By a total fluke we ended up connecting with each other again via MySpace back in July. I'm in Harlem now and he's still in Brooklyn. We haven't seen each other in four and a half years but he's doing well.  He knew that he was my first even though he still doesn't quite believe me. It was good talking to him though, reflecting on old times. He's one of the people that helped make me the person I am today. Depending on who you ask that can be considered a good or a bad thing. But I digress. In this series of blog posts, "My First "Love"", I will tell the story of him and I.

One night I was at home on my computer, logged into BGC (BlackGayChat/BGCLive, a dating, friendship, sex hookup website). I can't quite remember how I found out about BGC but I managed to get an account there. BGC was cool to me because even though I was a virgin, I knew I was gay, but I didn't actually know any other gay people. BGC gave me a chance to see other gay men in their natural habitat. The profiles with the naked pictures didn't hurt either. At that point in my life I'd never seen another man naked, outside of porn. So seeing real guys my age showing themselves off was really hot. I even had some dick pics on my profile. And even now that I'm offline, four and a half years later I'm sure that my old BGC dick pics are still floating around somewhere in cyberspace (I'd know that head anywhere). At that time I wouldn't dare put my face on BGC. I actually only started doing that shit like a year and a half ago. And even with that you'll never find a fully nude picture of me, with my face showing on the internet. Kiddies take this piece of advice from a retired internet hook up professional: Your dick/ass/vagina should NEVER, I repeat NEVER be in the same picture as your face. Face pics and pics of private parts should ALWAYS be two separate entities. You never know, one day you may run for president or something and that shit will come back to haunt you, but at least if there's no face attached you can always deny, deny, deny. I digress.

So I was in the chat room on BGC one night and there was this guy there, let's call him Tony, who was making fun of everybody's pics on their profile. He was being really cruel too and even though I was laughing at his jokes I was scared that he was gonna come for me next so I quietly slipped out of the chat session. A few minutes later he hit me up on AIM and told me who he was and started talking to me. I was kinda shocked by it all and wondering why he had this sudden interest in me. So we chatted back and forth on the internet and eventually ended up exchanging numbers. That night we ended up having phone sex. It wasn't the first time I ever masturbated with someone over the phone but it was the first time that I took control of it and explicitly told the other person what I wanted to do to them. I've always had a really vivid imagination so I was a natural at phone sex. It's funny because even then I was the top.

I know, It's weird for a lot of people, but for me, coming into gay sex, even doing it for the first time I always knew where I belonged. I'm a top. I was the top, Tony was the bottom. He knew that, all of my dates know that (except for this one). It's not even something that has to be asked. I guess it's just a certain vibe I give off and the vibe that I'm attracted to. An ex boyfriend once told me that he did not believe that there was a such thing as a quote-unquote "real" top until he met me. Out of curiosity I even tried the bottom thing before, nah, it's just not for me. I'm digressing again.

For the next few weeks this phone sex became our nightly, before going to bed ritual, that along with our talking on the phone for four to five hours at a time, sometimes breaking daylight. We talked about everything, from our families, to our jobs, to our dreams, and even a future with one another (oh, to be that innocent again). We even had, and had make up phone sex, after our first argument. At that time Tony and I had never met it was as though I knew him and he knew me, like we were together, like boyfriend and girlfriend, or boyfriend and boyfriend, or lovers, or whatever it was supposed to be. And even though to actually be with Tony the way we planned over the phone, I knew we'd have to face insurmountable odds but none of that mattered those endless nights on the phone with him. Talking with him I slipped into a place where I was finally free, free to be myself and share my real self with someone else. Talking to Tony, I floated high above the pain and the stress of my mediocre, quotidian existence. He was the first person to ever experience the romantic side of me.

The more and more we talked, the closer and closer we got, it was killing me to not be able to see him. We'd let trivial circumstances and insignificant obligations stand in our way for far too long. One Saturday night I'd had enough and I demanded to see him. He obliged. So I slipped away from my group of friends, giving them some bullshit excuse about a friend from school needing homework help and I went to see him, Tony, my destiny.

He actually didn't live too far from me. We both lived in Brooklyn at the time and he was only about 20 minutes away by bus. When I got off the bus to meet him I remember the night being warm and him being taller than I thought, like two inches taller than me. We met, we gave our salutations and exchanged our pleasantries. During our phone conversations I learned that Tony was a huge Brandy fan. The night we met I gave him my autographed "Full Moon" CD that I stood for hours in the cold for on the day it was released. He accepted it and thanked me and we sat on a park bench in awkward silence.

It was so crazy because we'd been so expressive during our countless hours of phone conversation. We talked about our hopes, our dreams, our future, our fantasies, we busted nutts together and now we meet and there's, there's... silence, like what the fuck? So in an attempt to break the ice I suggest that we go to a local diner. We get there, we sit down, I ask Tony if he wants anything, he says no. I order a slice of strawberry shortcake (my all time favorite dessert) and we sit there, in silence. Now I'm nervous. Does he like me? Is he not feeling me? Just then, in the middle of one of my feeble attempts at small talk I reach over and knock my complimentary glass of ice water all over myself. How embarrassing? Here I am on my first date with a guy and I'm totally fucking it up.

We walk out of the diner and it starts pouring down raining, can this fuckin' evening get any fuckin' worse? Sensing that this date is basically over and the last few weeks had been a total waste of time, I made my way toward the bus stop. Tony walks over with me and stands there with me. We stood huddled together in silence under his small umbrella on the south east corner of that busy intersection, watching people run for shelter from the sudden rain, in silence. As I looked up and into his eyes I wanted to kiss him. But back then I didn't have the balls to do some shit like that, even though in retrospect, we coulda got away with it. It wasn't like there was anyone out there anyway. The bus came and as I entered I noticed that he was right behind me. Alrighty, I wasn't sure what to think of this. So I guess he did like me since he was gonna ride with me home and everything. We sat across from each other on the bus, damp, still in silence, but exchanging smiles every so often.

We get off the bus at my stop and walk toward my building. I'm not sure why exactly he was still tagging along as there was no way he was gonna meet Lydia (my mother and Jesus' unofficial cousin twice removed) that night, oh hayell nah! As cool as Tony was, he "looked" gay. And I was not secure enough in myself or my sexuality at that time to face the scrutiny that would come along with me being seen with him. He was in my hood now. It was kinda late so I wasn't so worried about being caught with him but I thought for sure that he was about to cross the street and take the bus back to his house. Isn't it funny how over the phone, dreams and speculations have you floating on air, light as a feather, but in person, reality is about as light as a ton of bricks?

We got to my building, he walked in behind me. Alrighty, we were now at the elevator, in silence. I pressed the up button as a swarm of butterflies fluttered violently through my stomach. I felt as though if I uttered a single word one would come flying out. We step into the elevator. As he stood in the back right corner, the tension mounted. Instead of pressing the button for my parents' third floor apartment I pressed next to the number 17. This was it. I'd been waiting for this all day, all night, all my life, and I was tired of playing it safe, tired of trying to please mama and daddy and everyone else. This was my life and I'll be damned if don't start living it. I didn't know what was gonna happen from that point on, whether the stars would fall from the sky or whether the Earth would swallow me whole and I'd fall into the pits of hell, but at that point I really didn't care, fuck it. I kissed him.

==========
Playing In The Background...
"Kissing You"
by Faith Evans
from the "Waiting To Exhale Movie Soundtrack"
==========

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 03:04 PM | Permalink | Comments (5) | TrackBacks (0)

==========
You know how when you quit a job you'll still get checks from things like, unpaid hours, sick day hours etc., even weeks after you've left. This is something like that. As you know I have given up all of my online dating/hookup accounts a while ago. This is the story of the last person I met and hooked up with from there. It's the end of an era.

Enjoy.
==========

There was this guy I met online, on A4A actually, we'll call him Kyle. We started exchanging messages one Friday night at about 2am. We exchanged numbers and arranged a meeting for the even more wee hours of that morning. When we hung up from our conversation he told me that he'd be on his way. I was already tired and I fell asleep waiting for him. I woke up about four hours later, the sun was coming up and obviously he never showed. I hate it when that shit happens. He called with some flimsy ass bull shit excuse. From then on I dismissed him as just another one of those online fags who doesn't keep appointments. I didn't even bother saving his number in my phone. He wanted to reschedule but I didn't take him seriously, he'd already flaked out on me. He disappointed me when I was horny and vulnerable and I was done with him.

Throughout the next few weeks as you know I gave up the online thing and was dating and going about my life, learning to be without it. He would call, so much so that I knew from the first three numbers of his unsaved phone number that it was him. If I decided to answer the phone I'd keep it really brief. One night when he called, I was home alone and extra horny so I entertained him. I playfully and flirtatiously told him how much he'd "hurt" me and that "I cried" because he never showed up that morning. You know, spitting my proverbial "G". We ended up having phone sex that night. His moans sounded real good over the phone so I finally decided to saved his number, you know, just in case. I later found out that that number was a house number. Deal breaker! I refuse to mess around with a guy who does not have a cell phone, that's ridiculous. This is 2007. I am not tryna call and have to speak to ya mama, ya daddy, ya little sister and ya Aunt Esther before I speak to you. Nah, I'm good. Once I figured that out I told him that I was not going to be calling him.

After a few more calls from that house number, some I answered, some I didn't, I got a call from a number I didn't recognize. It was Kyle, he called to tell me that he'd just gotten a cell phone. After I congratulated him for stepping into the new millennium he asked:

"So when am I gonna see you?"

Taken aback, yet pleased by his straightforwardness we set up a meeting at my house for that evening.

Late that night he came by. I was ready for him. In my boxers and wearing a wifebeater to cover my newly oiled body, I was horny and ready to fuck. When he showed up that night I noticed that he didn't look so much like his pictures, he wasn't ugly, but he wasn't fine either. He was definitely fuckable though, a six and a half, but at that point he could have looked like the Loch Ness Monster for all I cared. I wasn't fucking his face anyway (well, then again, you never know where the night could take us), that's what doggy style is for.

As he took off his shoes and laid down in my bed next to me, in an attempt to get comfortable, we stumbled through uncomfortable, awkward small talk, making comments about what was on TV, I guess in an attempt to rid ourselves of any traces of nervousness (even a damn near professional like me still gets nervous at times) and to somehow convince ourselves that this was something more than just a hookup, but deep down inside we both knew much better. Once we ran out of stuff to say Kyle turned over onto his left side slightly poking his ass in my direction. That was my cue to grind my dick up on him and kiss his neck. I obliged. He moaned and I felt his body start to relax.

Once I was fully erect I flipped him down on his back and positioned myself on top of him, between his legs. He unbuckled his belt and I slid his pants off, and then his underwear off, and then my underwear off. My hard dick flopped out, standing straight up like an obelisk. I lowered my body down onto his, my dick nestled between his ass cheeks and my tongue in his ear, he moaned louder. I love a moaner. I sucked his neck, sucked his nipples, nibbled at his sides, kissed around and down to his inner thighs, purposely bypassing his hardened dick 'cuz y'all know I don't give head like that. It's not like that was what he wanted anyway.

I slid my palms underneath his ass cheeks, lifted him up and ate him out, wagging my tongue around nice and slow, randomly darting in and out (of course you know I checked it out first). The moans got louder as I wrapped my arms around his thighs, pulling him into closer to me. The room echoes with his moans of:

"Damn, nigga damn, damn daddy damn..."

At that moment he made me feel invincible, like I could do anything. Just then I flipped onto my my back and nodded my head southward, giving the international sign for suck my dick. He took my dick into his mouth, sucking it ravenously, he even deep throated me (any 'ol body can't just up and do that) and that made my toes curl with enjoyment. I lifted his head from my crotch and laid him back down on his back.  I hadn't had my fill of tonguing him out yet. After a few moments on his back I withdrew my tongue from him and flipped him over. He got on his knees and spread his legs wide, pushing his ass up in the air, assuming a position I'm sure was all too familiar for him as I did what came as second nature to me. I spread his ass cheeks apart and continued to feast.

I ran my tongue up from the crack of his ass right down the center of his back and right up to his neck. As I pressed my body onto his, my weight flattening his limbs and pushing him down onto my bed I grinded my dick, so hard now that it was ready to burst between his ass checks and positioned the head right outside his moistened, throbbing hole. I whispered in his ear and asked:

"Are you ready for this dick?"

He responded and I reached to my left into the nightstand for my lube and 2 condoms. I lubed him and as my finger explored him it felt like it was drowning in a warm ocean, the warm sensation shot straight down to my awaiting dick, so hard that it was throbbing as I slid the condom on. I lowered my pelvis and hovered over him, he lifted his legs up and his eyes rolled back as I entered him. He felt so good wrapped all around me as I stroked in back and forth.

As the fucking got more intense he started moan and talk to me get louder and louder. Things got a little more aggressive and he started to moan and I talked back:

"Yeah daddy, hit this ass daddy... Damn that dick is good..."

"Yeah you like that? What's my name?"

"Adam..."

"Say my name baby..."

"Adam..."

"Who's ass is this?"

"It's all yours daddy, stroke this pussy daddy..."

Damn, Kyle stroked my ego just as much as I was strokin' that ass of his. He asked me to ride on top so we repositioned ourselves accordingly. As he slid down on top of my dick I held him by his waist in mid air so I could thrust in and out of him. As I thrusted he jerked his dick and threw his head back in ecstasy. A few moments later he came all over my stomach. As he laid down to catch his breath I repositioned myself over him and asked:

"Where you want this nutt at?"

I ripped off the condom and jerked my dick until it exploded everywhere, like a fire hose all over his stomach, chest and neck (don't sleep on those Kegel exercises). We cleaned off and caught our respective breaths, basking in the post-coital glow, while returning to our normal selves. He went to my bathroom and upon his return he asked me for a post-coital snack. Understandably so, as we'd both worked up an appetite.

He wanted junk food but unfortunately for him I don't keep that kinda stuff in the house. I made myself a quick spinach green and sliced turkey salad with a light vinaigrette, sprinkled with Bacos. I offered him some but he declined. I quickly devoured my salad and laid next to him in my bed. He turned his back to me and we laid there naked in the dim light of the television, spooning, with him falling asleep in my arms like we'd known each other all our lives.

A few hours that seemed more like a few moments later my alarm clock rang and it was time for me to get ready for work. Kyle hardly flinched as I reluctantly rose from the warmth of my bed into the cold morning air. I got ready for work going through my morning ritual, not missing a beat. When I stepped out of the bathroom to put on my clothes I saw that Kyle was awake and dressed. He went in the bathroom right behind me. As I stepped into my clothes I cut off the lights and the television. I turned on the radio as I always leave something on whenever I leave the house, a habit I picked up from my mother. Oddly enough, the song that was playing on the jazz station was Joan Osborne's cover of The Manhattans "Kiss And Say Goodbye".

The song continued to play as we readied ourselves to leave. He walked out first and I walked out behind him, locking the door. We walked down the stairs, together yet apart, in total silence. We exited my building and walked through the small courtyard out to the street. We greeted each other, almost simultaneously with a rather antiseptic "Later." Then we walked off in our separate directions. I never heard from him again.

That morning I said goodbye to Kyle but the real good bye was to the internet. This was literally the last time I fucked with it, or rather through it. I fucked and said goodbye. Sure I deleted my accounts 56 days ago today and I'm fine with it, not even tempted to go back, but that morning was the real end. No more random hooking up for me. Wow. it was much easier to let go than I thought. I remember a while back someone had mentioned the concept to me and my heart immediately filled with fear, my stomach rumbled with the flutter of a million butterflies. How was I to live without something I had never lived without? I was always online, I met my first online, and my second, and my third and just about everyone else who came along subsequently. What was I to do when I needed a quick, no strings, sexual pick-me-up, or when I was lonely or when my ego needed a good stroking? The idea terrified me then, but it doesn't now. I guess that's growth for ya.

Even though the sex with Kyle was great, he sucked dick like I like, he moaned like I like, he took dick like I like. But what I can't wrap my mind around anymore is how Kyle and I could do all the freaky stuff we did and just walk away. All of that moaning and talking and fucking was so fake, it was all an act. I wasn't his "daddy" and he damn sure wasn't my "baby". Sure our bodies enjoyed it and participated in it but our hearts sat out for the performance. I mean, hey, you know shit happens, I'm not saying that we should get married just because we had sex but we should at least know each other's last names. Kyle doesn't know a damn thing about me. He doesn't even know about this blog. he doesn't even know that he was the last person I met off the internet.

To read my thoughts back from earlier in this post:

  "...but at that point he could have looked like the Loch Ness Monster for all I cared, I wasn't fucking his face, that's what doggy style is for."

Damn. Look at what the fuck I've become, and what's crazy is how the shit so subtle. I never really saw what a monster I could be until now. Now that I think about all the dudes I've fucked all in the name of being horny, some I know good and damn well I would never be seen with out in the public. Shit, Kyle wasn't bad looking, at least I let him stay the night. What about all the ones I sent packing right after the sex or all the ones who tried to kiss me during sex and I turned my head away. Moral rule of thumb: If you refuse to kiss the person then you know damn well you shouldn't be fucking them. Well this is it. The last hoorah, my once more for the road, my goodbye kiss to the internet hook up. The nutt was good, the butt was good, but at the end of the day it's empty and in turn I'm left empty.

==========
Playing In The Background...
"Kiss And Say Goodbye"
by Joan Osborne
from the album "Breakfast In Bed"
and
"One For My Baby (And One More For The Road)"
by Etta James
from the album "The Essential Etta James"
and
"One More For The Road"
by Lil' Mo
from the album "Pain & Paper"
==========

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 09:00 AM | Permalink | Comments (10) | TrackBacks (0)

"...If only I could let you go, why do I need you so?
It's amazing what a boy can do, I cannot stop myself.
Wish I didn't want you like I do, want you and no one else..."

"...If only I could set you free, you worked your way inside of me.
It's amazing what a boy can do, I cannot stop myself.
Wish I didn't want you like I do, want you and no one else..."

"...It's amazing what a boy can say, I cannot stop myself
Seems I love you more than yesterday, love you and no one else."
-Madonna
from the song "Amazing"

When I first head this song on Madonna's "Music" album back in 2000 it was just a song, a good song, but just a song nevertheless. I would sing along to "Amazing" bopping my head to the beat and the guitars like it was nothing. It wasn't until I got into my first of a string of unhealthy, uneven, fucked up relationships that these words really started meaning something. That's when I learned that it really is amazing what a boy can do and what's even more amazing is the dumb shit that I would do and the ridiculous lengths I would go to keep said boy.

A few years ago I had ago I had an ex, we'll call him Jack. Jack and I met online. We talked on the internet for a while then we exchanged numbers and had some really hot phone sex after which he told me that he was from Brooklyn but living in a city about 1,100 miles away at the time, going to school. He seemed cool but I never saw the point of getting all wrapped up in somebody who was long distance so I basically stopped talking to him after that. He called a few times though and I just didn't bother answering the phone. Why should I? He wasn't here. What the fuck were we gonna do, have more phone sex? At that time I was too interested in real sex to want to acquire another long distance phone sex buddy. I had enough of those already.

He texted me about a month later and asked me if I remembered him, surprisingly I did. He told me that he'd be in the city soon. I told him to hit me up when he got into town, cutting our text convo short. As I  stated I really didn't have any patience to talk to long distance dates, even the ones that say they're coming to town. I'll believe it when I see it, that was my philosophy.

Obviously he did end up coming to town, he called me and we scheduled a meeting. When we met in person we discovered that we had gone to high school together but didn't know each other as we didn't hang out in the same circles. Jack was my type but I wasn't immediately attracted to him. As the night went on though he became sexier and sexier. Now that I think about it, it's probably because he took that damn durag he was wearing off his head. I hate when dudes where those things outside.

That night we hung out with his friends. They were real cool and we all were just walking through Brooklyn together talking and laughing, enjoying the warm night. Occasionally jack and I would exchange a lustful, flirty glance or two. I was feeling him but I couldn't help but feel like I was being reeled in somehow, not that he was a con artist or anything but from some of the stories his friends shared and from some of his mannerisms and things he said I picked up that breaking hearts wasn't a foreign thing to him. I made a note to myself not to go too fast too soon, to feel his ass out first, figuratively and literally. I remember we were sitting on the stoop of his friend's house when he gave me the naughtiest little look and texted me:

"Take the bus home with me so I can suck your dick."

My dick hardened with anticipation. I was excited and most definitely planned on being on that bus with him. He lived out of my way but fuck it, some things are worth going a little out of your way for sometimes. As I walked him home from the bus stop early that next morning I thought that he may have forgotten the promise he made me only a few short hours ago. I wasn't gonna stress it. I was having a good time with him and would even settle for just a kiss from him. I didn't care what we did I just wanted to be alone with him. All of our subliminal flirting got me so hot and bothered.

When we got to his, well, really his parent's house I walked him in and closed the front door behind me. We were in a small foyer area between the front door and a door that led to the rest of the house. I realized he hadn't forgot. After a few minutes of pleasantries and nervous conversation we kissed and it was fireworks. As our bodies were pressed against each other I groped him. His body felt so good in my hands, his back, his waist, his ass that I gripped and massaged forcefully with both hands. He tugged at my belt, freed my rock hard dick from me jeans, gripped it at the base got down on his knees and said:

"It's even bigger in person."

Then he began to lick, suck, kiss  and deep throat my dick like we were in love and this was our first anniversary, not like he had only met me only six hours ago. He devoured me with no fear or inhibition. He sent shockwaves of pleasure through my body so strong I could hardly stand up. Just when I thought it couldn't get any better he stood up, bent over and said:

"I want you to fuck me."

I dropped to my knees and feasted on his ass as he moaned and squirmed. I wanted to get him lubed up enough so that I could fuck him. Surprisingly I had no lube or condoms on me as I'm usually prepared for dates but who knew the night would turn out like this. I stood up, took my rock hard dick and smacked both his ass cheeks with it and made an attempt to enter him. It didn't work. I was too big to get inside of him without lube. Once we both realized that intercourse wasn't gonna happen, which was the best thing seeing that I didn't have a condom, he took my dick back into his mouth and sucked it ravenously until I ejaculated down his throat. As I tried to regain my composure he stood back up, kissed me, and invited me back over later to chill and of course to fuck.

Later that day I came back over, we chilled and talked and as we conversed I learned more about him. I even started to vaguely remember him from high school. I also remember why we never associated back then. He used to hang with the gay crowd, I didn't. At that time I was not that confident in my sexuality and even if I were I definitely didn't have the balls to hang with the gay crowd, not that I wanted to anyway. One thing led to another and we ended up having glorious, passionate, raw sex. Of course I know fucking raw is risky and just plain wrong, especially nowadays. I was going against my better judgment by doing it but he didn't like condoms and I liked him so I did it.

I remember how I had him in missionary position on the bed stroking him slowly but steadily making his bed creak with every thrust of my pelvis. The looks of pleasure on his face was so beautiful that I couldn't keep my eyes off him. In an effort to quiet things down as his mother was in the next room Jack stopped me and laid out a sheet on the floor and we proceeded to have sex down there. I remember that being some of the best sex of my life. Not because it was raw, but because of him. I wanted him so bad, he was so alluring and sexy to me. I liked him but I also sensed that he was a coquette who probably ate nice guys like me for lunch, I was trying not to fall, not to give him too much of myself but I couldn't help it, it was euphoric. To hear the vulnerability in his quiet moans and feel him grip my body so tightly as I went deeper inside of him was amazing. It gave me hope that maybe he was different, maybe he could be the one. I was falling for him.

From then on we spent just about every day of those next few weeks after that together and if we weren't together we were talking on the phone constantly. Due to lack of opportunity (we both lived at home at the time) we didn't even get to have sex again. Even so we had grown very closely very quickly and as usual in my life that spelled trouble. I didn't want things to end when he left. I told him that he was special to me and that even though we were gonna be apart it didn't mean we couldn't be together. We discussed it, scheduling, visiting, etc., and basically laid the ground work for a long distance relationship (I know, I know, don't look at me that way). The outcome of the arrangement was that we would see each other at least once a month between me going out there and him having school vacations and coming back home. It seemed at the time that our little arrangement could actually work.

So he left to go back to school and that same night I booked plane tickets and a hotel room for three weeks later. We were on the phone constantly for that three weeks. I'd be on the phone with him at work all night and on the phone with him at home everyday. He would tell me about his friends at school. I would talk to them. I would tell him about all that was happening at home. He would always tell me how much he missed me and how he couldn't wait to see me. I remember how we would send each other pictures back and forth and how I would look at his picture in my cell phone and smile and long for the day I would see him again.

As the day I was scheduled to leave was approaching the calls got less and less and I could feel him slipping away from me. Even when we did talk I could feel him backpedaling away from our original agreement. But even with that he was jealous when it came to me talking or seeing other people. Now that I think about it that's probably why he kept me on the phone all damn night all the time. While he was stuck in some hick town I was living here in New York, 'the fine ass ethnic men's capital of the world'. What's crazy is that with all the men here to choose from I only wanted him and here he was casting me aside, but still wanting me to be faithful to him.

He was really hurting me so in an effort to ease my pain I did the only thing I knew how. I went out and got my dick sucked by somebody else. As fucked up as it was, knowing that someone else in this world was attracted to me gave me this temporary pseudo-strength I felt I needed to deal with this situation. Like Popeye, you know, the sailor man? Popeye is to spinach as Adam is to getting his dick sucked, that was my spinach.

As the days passed things only got worse and worse. I wanted to just cancel the whole thing and maybe start something with the kid that had sucked my dick a few days prior. But I had already scheduled the time off work and paid for non-refundable plane tickets and a part of me still wanted to see Jack. All I could think about was the time we spent together and the way I fucked him on the floor of his bedroom, that shit was so amazing. I really wanted to be with him. Needless to say I was panicking. Not only was this hurting my heart, it was wasting my time, and even worse than that, it was costing me money. As much as I wanted him he was pissing me the fuck off.

The night before I was scheduled to leave I was at work and we got into a big argument after which I decided 'Fuck you, fuck this, fuck it! I'm not going'. He basically told me in a nutshelI that I'm basically on my own in his town. That if I saw him I saw him, if I didn't I didn't. He wasn't even gonna stay in the hotel with me. What the fuck was I gonna do in a city that I have never been too, don't know anybody in, and don't know a motherfuckin' thing about? Was he serious? This was no vacation, I was coming to see him. I remember him being such an asshole about it too. He was so aloof. He didn't care that I was putting my whole life on hold to come see him. He made it seem like this was all my big idea, as though we hadn't talked about and agreed to this. Now that I think about it, what the fuck did he have to lose here? We were the same age but here I was working my ass off making a pretty good living for a 22 year old while he was a broke ass college student who was gonna be coming to New York back and forth during holidays regardless. His obligation to me was no more than a bus ride across town while I'm flying across the country. I was the one making all the sacrifices in this deal we made and now he wants to pull the fuck away, ain't that a bitch! Granted, yes I was stupid to think that a homosexual that I knew for only about a month and a half at that time would do something crazy like honor his word.

What was so crazy and hurtful was that I wondered how much of what he was saying this and doing this whole time was real? Was he just faking it the whole time? And If he was faking, why would he? Why is even pulling away like this? What happened, what did I do? As much as I wanted answers to these questions I sure as hell wasn't gonna call his ass back and ask, fuck that. Now is the time for action.

So I canceled the hotel and the plane tickets. The airline said that I could keep half the money I paid for the tickets on hold, something like a store credit. I told my best friend Russell, who lives in a city about halfway between me and Jack the situation and he suggested that I take the bus down and come visit him since I had the time off, I agreed. I also made plans to visit my sisters, who I hadn't seen in a while and happened to live only 90 minutes west of Russell in an effort to kill two birds with one stone.

I'm on the bus in Newark, New Jersey, about 20 minutes outside New York and my cell phone rings and of course it was Jack. I had been ignoring all of his phone calls since the argument and didn't bother to tell him that I was not coming to see him. I thought my hanging up on his fallacious faggot ass would have implied that. But I decided that I wanted to revel in the pleasure of telling him that I wasn't coming, as though he would actually care. I answered. He got on that phone and cried and sobbed like a baby and apologized for everything he said and damn near begged me to come see him. I melted like a suppository in the crack of somebody's ass. I ended up going to see Russell but I cut that trip short and due to time restraints cut my sisters out altogether. I got a refund for my bus tickets to my sister's place and back to New York, bought a new more expensive, last minute plane ticket from Russell to Jack and used the credit I had on hold for a new flight home. I called the hotel and begged them to reinstate my employee rate. All of this costing me more money.

Three days later arrived in Jack's city. I got myself settled and armed with a bus map of the city that I had been studying for the last two weeks I went to pick Jack up from school. And there he was, just as fine as I remembered. Seeing him just made everything okay, the argument, the canceled tickets, the money, everything. We had sex again that next night and it was amazing again. We also fucked raw again which of course is wrong on so many levels. I know I don't talk much about the HIV and STD's on my blog but please don't fuck raw. Every time I think about the times I did it (mostly when I first came out and didn't know any better I cringe). If you're currently practicing raw sex please stop.

All during the trip he would introduce me to people as his "friend", even at the club we went to where dudes were flirting with him left and right. When I questioned him about that and exactly what the status of our relationship was he hit me with the ol' "We're still not in a relationship." one, two sucker punch to the gut. After flipping the bill for everything on that trip, food, the club, cabs, etc. This nigga never even opened his wallet, but I guess you can't pay for anything with cobwebs. Needless to say, I was emotionally and financially spent. I wasn't even so much hurt, I was numb and more importantly low on cash. I just came to the conclusion that this was it. It was over. At least I got my nutt off, right? And now I don't have to sit and wonder what could have been. Jack is officially an asshole, one that feels great stretched out around my dick, but an asshole nevertheless. I fucked him but he flipped me over and ended up fucking me... again, right in between the ventricles.

Oh by the way, I hope you didn't think it was over. So when I got back to New York I made a conscious effort not to speak to Jack. I got with the kid that sucked my dick and of course that ended. Soon after I found my way back to Jack's house and in his bedroom back at the scene of the crime. I found myself in his bed, again, quietly fucking him raw, again (see, you have to stop that shit before it becomes a habit), under his manipulative spell again. I was a little wiser the third time around and did not press any type of commitment or relationship issues. I kept it strictly as sex but I know that if he would have wanted me to I would have still dropped everything to be with him.

Eventually with some time contemplation and deliberate and complete avoidance (sometimes it takes just that) I totally got over Jack. I started to see him for the bullshitter that he was. I don't hate him at all, we'll still communicate via MySpace every once in a while. I've even seen him in the club a few times and he'll flirt with me and it does nothing. I'm totally over him now and when I see him I wonder how I ever got so far under him in the first place and how I ever let him manipulate me the way he did. I also wonder how I fell so deep for Jack and thought that things could actually work with him after knowing him for ten minutes. It truly is amazing what a boy can do, both boys involved.

==========
Playing In The Background...
"Amazing"
by Madonna
from the album "Music"
==========

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 11:26 AM | Permalink | Comments (4) | TrackBacks (0)

==========
I'm an advocate for online dating. I think it's great. Of course like any other kind of dating you should be careful about meeting strangers and you should be selective of who, when, where, and how long it will take before you are ready to meet somebody. On the other hand everyone is a stranger until you get to know them, right? To me meeting people online much better than getting dressed and going out to a club because it's free and you can do it in the privacy of your own home and talk to as many people as you want to one time and rejection is just a click of a mouse! All their info is on their profile, it's like ordering takeout. This series will focus on some of the not so good experiences I've had with online dating.
Enjoy.
==========

In a temporary lapse of sanity, judgment, thought, reason, and all that is good and right I met someone off the chat line. What the fuck was I thinking? I had a friend who used to do it and being the curious person I am I wanted to try it too. Maybe love was waiting for me out there among the telephone lines. If you are unfamiliar with what a chat line is, it's basically everything that happens online except over the phone and without pictures, unless you employ some sort of medium for photo exchange. But of course most of the people who use the chat line "mysteriously" don't have pictures. Basically it's a haven for ugly, weird people. But I figured I'm on here so there must be someone else normal out there... right?

So I meet this guy, we'll call him Chin Chim Chimney, Chim Chim for short. He sounded good looking over the phone... You know what, that makes no sense whatsoever. I hear people say that dumb shyt all the time and it sounds no more intelligent now that I've said it. I should have known better.

The first day we talked the convo went well. Chim Chim sounded like a cool person. Of course I found a way to show him a picture of me and he liked what he saw. So we decided to meet.

That next day he called me once he got out of the train station so I could direct him to my house. He got to my door and he... he... let's just say he wasn't attractive to me. On top of that he smelled like cigarettes. I HATE cigarettes. I have never smoked a day in my life. Not only did he smell like cigarettes, he reeked of cigarettes, it was like a brown cloud all around him coming from his clothing, his pores, his soul... yuk! He had to GO!

Believe it or not and unfortunately for me I'm not a mean person. As he sat at my table, looking at me in the kitchen I was trying to think of the nicest and quickest way to get rid of this dude. In retrospect I should have just been direct and said 'Yo dude, I'm not feelin' it. Sorry you gotta go.' but I have to admit I was a little gunshy after dealing with Online Dating Horror Story #1 and most importantly I didn't wanna hurt Chim Chim's feelings.

So as I stood in the kitchen making a pitcher of Blue Raspberry Lemonade Kool-Aid occasionally glancing behind me at this him trying to find a redeeming quality as I stood and he sat in awkward silence. Then the stale cigarette smell started wafting toward me prompting me to speed this 'getting-Chim-Chim- the-hell-out-my-house-before-"New-York-Undercover"-comes-on' process along. And I sure as hell was not tryna have my crib smelling like that. Alright Adam think, how are we gonna do this without hurting anyone's feelings?

Then the light bulb came on. Okay so I'm a full top and he's a full bottom. What does a bottom hate more than anything, well most bottoms I know anyway? A sissy ass top. If I just acted real cunt right now maybe he'll be turned off by me and want to leave. I'm also gonna make up some fake event I have to be at in a few hours so I can tell him I need to get ready and have an excuse to make him leave. I'll cover my bases both ways. Hopefully this shyt works. So I pick up my cell phone and call my best friend, 'his ass betta answer this phone', I thought. The convo went something like this:

"Hello"

"Heyyyyy!"
I answered.

"Bitch, what is wrong with you?"

"When is da house meetin'?"
I asked, sounding like a queen, knowing good and dayum well I ain't in nobody's house but my best friend is.

"Adam, what are you talkin' about? There ain't no house meeting tonight."

"Oh aight, tonite, like 12, 12:30? We gon' turn it on the girls!"
I stated, talking over him as he questioned my sanity.

"Gurl, what are you givin'?"

"Bitch what you walkin'? I'm walkin' realness."
I said, upping the anti. I look back at Chim Chim and his expression is priceless. It's a mixture of shocked, disgusted, and over it. This is working. It's time to reel this baby on in.

"Ooh no! Bitch you got a date over there don't you?"
My best friend asks, finaly getting in to what I'm doing here. It's not like we haven't done this kinda thing before.

"Yeah... I'll meet you at the train station on two-fifth."
I said both answering his question and continuing the fake conversation I was having.

"What's wrong? That date look fieeerce don't she?"

"Yes."
I answered.

"Ooh no! Kick her to the the curb Miss Thing."

"I'm trying to..."

"You acting cunt to scare her off Miss Thing?"

"Yesssss hunny!"
I answered cuntly as I have forgotten about keeping in character for the last few responses.

"Ooh no! Gurl I can't take! Go off Miss Adam. Talk to you lata bitch."

"I'll see you lata gurl."

So I turn back to Chim Chim, he's dumbfounded and I'm lovin' it. He is so over me I can feel it. Then he inquired:

"You're in a house?"

"Yeah, I walk schoolboy realness."

I said that in my normal voice trying to pretend like I wasn't just sounding like a straight up queen forty five seconds ago. See I figured that switching back and forth would make things seem more real. Like my queen side was something I tried hide but it only came out when I was caught off guard or talking to another member of my house. Not only was I a queen, but a deceitful queen at that. He's so over me.

"Well I, I gotta go."
Chim Chim said.

"You sure you don't wanna stay for some Kool-Aid?"
I asked, with my back turned from Chim Chim, trying my hardest not to laugh.

"Nah I'm good."

I led him to the door and I was home free. Once he left I had to spray half a can of Renuzit to break up the toxic cloud he left. I sipped on some Kool-Aid and snuggled up with Malik Yoba and Michael DeLorenzo on "New York Undercover". They were much better dates anyway.

So kiddies what have we learned from this experience? One, never, ever, ever call the chat line. Please stay away! Two, don't be afraid to tell someone how you feel. If you ever meet someone and you're not feeling it, you're not feeling it, oh well. You don't owe anyone anything. I'm taking the refresher course on that one. And the best thing to do when meeting someone for the first time is to meet them in a public place. This would have all been much easier if we met in Crown Fried Chicken, in McDonalds, or on the corner or something. I coulda just ran from his ass!

For more insight about online dating including a synopsis of the major black gay "dating" websites check out my post here.

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Playing In The Background...
"Smoking Cigarettes"
by Tweet
from the album "Southern Hummingbird"
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Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 12:26 PM | Permalink | Comments (7) | TrackBacks (0)

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With this post I'm christening a new category on the blog entitled: Online Dating Horror Stories.

I'm an advocate for online dating. I think it's great. Of course like any other kind of dating you should be careful about meeting strangers and you should be selective of who, when, where, and how long it will take before you are ready to meet somebody. On the other hand everyone is a stranger until you get to know them, right? To me meeting people online much better than getting dressed and going out to a club because it's free and you can do it in the privacy of your own home and talk to as many people as you want to one time and rejection is just a click of a mouse! All their info is on their profile, it's like ordering takeout. This series will focus on some of the not so good experiences I've had with online dating.
Enjoy.
==========

I was online late one night talking to this dude. It was winter time and dumb cold outside. He seemed really nice and the conversation via IM was going well. We talked on the phone for a while. During that conversation we were talking about our lives, current events, etc., etc. He had mentioned that his friend tried out for a TV show a few weeks prior. The tryouts for that particular TV show were held at the hotel I was working at at the time. I mentioned that to him and we laughed at the coincidence and at how small the world is.

He had seen pictures of me on my online profile. I am very thorough about that. In fact I have never been rejected by someone I met online before. It's not necessarily because I'm so fine, it's because I always have very recent and clear pictures of myself. What you see is what you get here, no surprises.

This guy, we'll call him... hmmm... I wanna call him something that's not gonna give away the rest of the story... how about Crazy Terrorist Monster? We'll call him Crazy Terrorist Monster, CTM for short. CTM, unfortunately had no pictures online and you know that that means: UGLY ALERT! UGLY ALERT! There's no reason for anyone nowadays with all this technology we have not to have a picture ready for email. I knew better that to even be thinking about meeting him sight unseen but against my better judgment, (when meeting someone online NEVER go against your better judgment) I entertained the possibility.

Like I said, it was real, real late at night and even though he didn't live that far from me it was brick ass cold and he still didn't mind traveling. That's usually not necessarily a good sign. I leveled with him. I told him:

"Look CTM, I don't know what you look like, you could look like a monster or something so I can't promise that anything romantic will happen between us. But you seem mad cool so if you come no matter what I will at least let you stay over until the morning."

I actually had to wake up for work in a few short hours, I don't know what my ass was doing up that late anyway. Anyway he agreed to my disclaimer and proceeded to make his way over. I did my usual first date sleepover ritual of removing the knives from my magnetic metal bar on the wall in the kitchen. With those knives out there in plain sight I didn't want anybody to get any ideas. He seemed cool but is ass could still be crazy and I had no picture of him to show the cops.

He arrived, I came to the door and he was indeed a monster. I can't remember what he looked liked as I didn't stare directly into his face. All I knew was that he was a mess and I was over it that I had stayed up this late talking to his ass. Now I was ready to go to sleep. Once he came in we said about fifteen words to each other before I was ready for bed. So we went to sleep. I even gave in to him trying to grind his ass all up on me and spoon with me, whatever, as long as I didn't have to see his face.

I woke up a few hours later and got dressed and ready for work with the quickness. It definitely wasn't a love connection. After a silent walk to the train station I went down the stairs and he continued up the street. We parted with a dry "Later." Knowing good and dayum well we'd never speak to each other again, or so I thought.

After struggling through work, tired and bitchy I got home and got back online checking my favorite message boards and my emails and doing my regular stuff. Then I got an instant message, it was CTM. It said:

"How was work?"

I'm thinking 'why is this dude hittin' me up?' There was obviously nothing between us. So I just ignored it. When I checked my messages on the website that we met on I see he left me something there too. I'm thinking 'Was he not here last night? Why is he still talking to me?' So, not feeling up to having a whole discussion with him about it I ignored his message there as well. I take a nap and a few hours go by and I'm just chillin', doin' me when I receive another instant message from him. It went something like this:

"Oh so it's like that bitch! You just gonna ignore me. Aight I got you. That's why I'm come to your job tomorrow at the John Doe Plaza Hotel and get you fired!"

I read that shyt like fifteen times just so I could believe it, I had to let that shyt sink in. So I guess his ass gon' come to my job and start a scene. And how the fuck do this crazy bitch know where I work? Then it came back to me, oh fuck, that conversation we had about the TV show, that crazy, detail remembering, psychotic ass bitch. Shyt, what the fuck was I gonna do? Surely this could be an idle threat but I cannot run the risk of this psychopath starting some silly shyt at my job. Even if I beat him down I'm still getting fired and I cant even take it outside. If ya ass is caught fighting in the middle of Midtown Manhattan NYPD is lockin' yo ass up. Dayum, I knew I shoulda never let his ass come over. What am I gonna do. Then the phone calls started:

"Hello."

I say, knowing it's CTM crazy ass calling from a private number. This is why I don't answer private calls to this day.

"Bitch!"

Then he hangs up. It happened again a few more times. After the second time I just stopped answering the phone. Okay Adam, breathe. We (like I'm two people) gotta figure this shyt out. I tried to call him back, he wouldn't answer. I tried to hit him up on the website, he blocked me. I tried to hit him up via IM, he blocked me there too. So I signed onto IM using another screen name and I saw that he was online. I left him this message:

"I really hope that's not you sending me threatening messages and playing on my phone. I just wanted to let you know that I just got finished talking to the director of security at the John Doe Plaza Hotel and I emailed him your little threat. Hotels are considered big terrorist targets nowadays and your threat is being taken very seriously. I gave him your description and if you are seen on the premises you will be removed and handed over to the proper authorities. And I may not know what blocked number you called me from but the phone company does and so do the police."

Suddenly the calls stopped. I totally bullshitted my way out of that situation, I didn't talk to anyone or email anything, I made all that shyt up. I have to admit though that shyt was hot. I guess if I really emailed the hotel and talked to the director of security that that's the kind of action that they would take. After I sent the message and the calls stopped, I slept much better that night. I had successfully diffused the situation.

I have to admit the next day at work I did keep an eye open for his crazy ass, he never showed and I never heard from him again.

For more insight about online dating including a synopsis of the major black gay "dating" websites check out my post here.

==========
Playing In The Background...
"Crazy"
by Gnarls Barkley
from the album "St. Elsewhere"
==========

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 04:39 PM | Permalink | Comments (5) | TrackBacks (0)

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I was talking to someone Saturday night who had read the now infamous "I Really Am A Bottom I KNOW I Am..." post. He told me that thoroughly enjoyed it and that led to us having a conversation about the roles of tops and bottoms and what my preferences are. We also touched on the subject of respect for people's sexual boundaries. It reminded me of this experience.
Enjoy.
I've also included this in the Online Dating Horror Stories category.
==========

I am a top. I am, I am, I just am. I lost my virginity (actually I know exactly where I put it) as a top. Out of curiosity I tried the bottom thing. I figured when I'm fucking the other person is having such a good time I wanted to be a part of the fun! That is until it happened (that's a whole 'nother blog post). I felt like Whitney Houston in "Waiting To Exhale" ("grrr huh...?" my body didn't need that) and like Lela Rochon "I coulda had a V8." After that first time any subsequent attempts (which were few, far between, and never more than ten minutes) were out of me 'really liking a guy,' but even that got really old, really quick. So now I'm like a force field, I'm impenetrable. I've gotten to the point in my life now that I am what I am and whoever doesn't like it can suck my dick... literally. The whole getting fucked thing, nothing wrong with it, it's great for other people, but not for me. 

I was online one night and this dude hit me up. He said that I had given him my number before but that he never called. I honestly could not place him at all. From the picture I saw of him online he was cute-ish. I've learned not to trust just one picture anyway. It takes a dayum photo shoot to gain my confidence. But anyway we started talking back and forth exchanging pleasantries, yadda, yadda, yadda. Then he asks me whether I liked threesomes. I told him that I had engaged in them before. Then he mentioned something about getting together with a bottom. I asked him whether he was a top. He said "yeah". I was wondering 'how in the hell did he slip through the cracks?'

I make it a practice not to date or even entertain the idea of a romantic relationship with a fellow top. Why? Why? I'll tell you why... because it's pointless. There's no point in wasting time dating and getting to know someone knowing that there's only but so far you can go. But I don't mind being friends with one.

He hit me back up online and said to call him in ten minutes. I thought to myself 'what the fuck am I gonna call you for?' so I didn't. After a while he called and we talked a little further. All during the conversation he is trying to convince me that I should at least sixty-nine with him. All the while I'm hitting him with a barrage of him "no's", "I'm good's" and "Nah, I don't get down like that's". He didn't seem to be taking no for an answer. You see why I don't mess with tops? The conversation ended soon after.

Then he texts me and asks where in Harlem do I live because he may be in the area. 'Hmmm, should I give him my address?' I thought. As much as his top advances irritated me I have to admit I was intrigued. A part of me wanted to see what he looked like, so against my better judgment I told him what corner I lived off of, not really expecting him to come anyway. Then he texted me and told me that he'd be at my house in 30 minutes. I expected to meet him and have him chill for a minute. I wasn't trying to do anything sexually with him. I made that clear over the phone and I wasn't tryna stay up half the night, I had work the next day.

In the interim he sent me a text that went something like this:

"Get that dick and hole lubed up shawty"

What the fuck? Didn't I tell this nigga I'm not tryna do nothin' with him and if I were to do something it sure as hell wont involve any holes of mine. So I text back:

"Nigga u ain't doin' shyt with my hole! Yo, I told you I don't get down like that."

"Love u 2 shawty... stop bitchin'... see u in a few."

Oh, this nigga is tryna pull some ol' Big Daddy game shyt on me. Doesn't he know I invented that shyt? A part of me regretted this and wanted to just leave his ass downstairs and not answer the phone when he calls me. This is a big building, he doesn't know what apartment I'm in, he doesn't even know what I look like besides the pictures he saw. It's not like I haven't done the shyt before. The other part of me wanted to cuss his ass out. Who the fuck was he calling "shawty"? I ain't ya dayum "shawty" nigga! Don't try to pull that bitch shyt on me...

So he came and needless to say I let him in. Robo-Munchkin (that's the name I'm giving him, Robo because we met on online, Munchkin because he was short) was cute-ish, and about 5'8, 140 lbs. I answered the door giving my world famous sexy, ready for bed look. I came to the door in basketball shorts with no shirt on. I was gonna tease this nigga. I wasn't planning on getting no ass from him so I was gonna have a little fun. I'm usually not a game player but I felt frisky that night. He looked at me, he liked what he saw. But he was cool. I guess he was tryna feel me out. From his conversation I could tell he thought he was the shyt because he had a car and some jewelry and some bird ass nigga woulda probably fell for his shyt. But not I, I'm A. Benjamin Irby, nigga ask about me.

So I'm laying on my bed watching TV, he's sitting up. I hear his shoes hit the floor. Ain't nobody ask him to take off his dayum shoes. Robo-Munchkin lies down next to me and as were having small talk he slides his right arm under my lower back with his fingertips inching toward my ass. I bust out laughing.

"Nigga, what the fuck are you doing?
I ask, laughing but dead serious at the same time.

"I'm just tryna..."

"Nigga get ya hand off my ass I told you I don't get down like that! So you didn't think I was serious, huh? I told you that I'm a strict top and that I wasn't tryna do nothing with you. What you thought you were gonna come here, I was gonna see you and just change my mind?"
I looked at him and I could tell even without him saying a word that that's exactly what he thought.
"It don't work like that, not with me."

So we talked a little while longer. Then he said:

"C'mere..." in his pseudo-Big Daddy voice.

I rolled my eyes as I slid over wondering what he trick he was gonna pull next. Then he started ravenously sucking my neck. I started laughing. I said:

"Nigga, what are you doing?"

"Relax."
He said with a slight tinge of frustration in his voice. He was a persistent little munchkin.

"Don't get no hickies on my neck nigga."
I said as he began to suck harder.

Then he put my hand on his crotch in an effort to feel his hardening dick through his jeans. I wasn't impressed. He put his hand in my basketball shorts to feel my flaccid dick. This was all doing nothing for me and now this game I was playing started getting boring. I was so over this. I looked at the clock by the TV trying to calculate how many hours of sleep I would get before work once I got him the hell outta here. Then he asked:

"You got any porns?"

'Porns,' I thought, 'who the fuck says porns?' What kinda word is that? I've heard of porno or pornography, but porns. Even the way his ass talked started to annoy me. He had to go. Obviously he wanted us to jerk off together. Why the fuck would I waste a perfectly good nutt doing this shyt? But whatever got him out of my hair the fastest. So I turn the movie on, I turn around and he's naked. I see Robo-Munchkin wastes no time.

I wondered, just like you are what homeboy was packin'. He was talkin' all this Big Daddy top killer shyt (A top killer/slayer is a top that is just so hot or has so much swagger that he can get other tops to let him beat. I've killed quite a few tops in my day.) that I'm expecting to see an anaconda. People say that in a top/top situation deciding who is gonna top was a matter of who had the bigger dick, bigger dick wins. Needless to say, he lost. I can't believe that Robo-Munchkin really thought I was really gonna let his munchkin ass climb on my back.

So we jerked off. He wanted to do it in a sixty-nine-like position. I don't know why cuz I sure as hell wasn't sucking his dick. He was hard, I was hard-ish. He put my hand on my dick as though I was supposed to jerk him off while his finger was inching toward my asshole. I asked yet again:

"Nigga, what the fuck are you doing?

"Oh, oh my bad."

"So you not gonna lick it for me?"

"Hell no."

"A little bit, just the head?"

"No."

"If you suck mine, I'll suck yours."

"Nah, I'm good" I said as I jerked my semi flaccid dick.

Since he's been here, being in this position was the first time I looked him square in the face. He really wasn't bad looking at all. He was attractive. He kissed me and that really wasn't bad. I would have at least jerked the nigga off if he wasn't such an asshole. He annoyed me so much by that time with his pseudo-Big Daddy bullshyt that all his cute points had gone out the window. Then he motioned his dick toward my face in a last ditch effort to get me to suck it. I said:

"If you want that thing I suggest you get it outta my face."

By then I think he finally got that I meant business.

He came first and few moments later I managed to muster up a nutt from my erect-ish dick. We went into my bathroom to clean up when he made some comment about my ass being fat. He had to go. I rushed his munchkin ass out my crib to never see him again.

Why did he text me the next day talkin' about "Sup homie." Is he serious? Hopefully our meeting taught him a lesson in learning to respect other people's sexual boundaries. I learned that I'm way too old to be playing games and teaching lessons. I don't have nearly enough patience for that shyt.

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Playing In The Background...
"Big Munny"
by Swizz Beatz
from the album "One Man Band Man"
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Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 04:36 PM | Permalink | Comments (6) | TrackBacks (0)

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I wasn't 100% sure whether I wanted to tell this story but I told it anyway. I'm not passing judgment on anyone or their way of life. It's up to each one of us to decide how we want to live and what we'll have around us.
==========

It's funny how being in a relationship can change our lives and introduce us to new lifestyles and ways of thinking. Think of how many things you learned about because you used to date what's-his-name. Or music artists or TV shows you got hooked on due to what's-his-name having them on all the time. Even when you and what's-his-name have long parted you still enjoy those things he introduced you to. Every relationship has the opportunity to change our lives. The exposure to different things during the course of a past relationship on the other hand can reinforce your own ways of thinking and give you further confirmation that your way is really what's best for you. Sometimes an unsuccessful trial at a different way of life gives us the confidence not to change.

My first substantial relationship was with this guy, we'll call him Michael. When I first met Michael online I was immediately enamored with him. I thought he was so fine. After our first date we started seeing each other more and more often. It was difficult though because I was from Brooklyn and he was from all the way up in the Bronx and at the time we both lived at home with our parents. But through some sneaking around, a few quiet quickies and some hotel rooms here and there we still managed to see each other. Love always finds a way, that is if the mutual desire is there. In a strange twist of fate he ended up moving with some other relatives to Brooklyn about fifteen blocks away from me. We actually lived on the same street.

Michael lived in the projects (public housing) in both the Bronx and Brooklyn. Until I started dating him I had never been in the projects before. I grew up in Brooklyn, in East New York, I know it sounds crazy. There were at least five project developments within walking distance from me. I had seen them all before, I'd been around the perimeter but never inside. I was always told that the projects are for the people who live there and that it was not the place to be if you didn't know anybody. I didn't grow up rich, my parents worked hard, we lived okay, I never went to bed hungry. I guess you could say we were somewhat middle class. I don't think my parents thought that we were better than anyone else but now looking back I realize that there were certain things that they didn't want me around and for good reason.

That summer I would go see Michael every other day. Unlike my family his family knew about and accepted his sexuality so I would spend way more time there than he would at my house. In fact the whole project knew about Michael, he grew up there between that project and the other one in the Bronx. He was feminine and hardly shy about his sexuality but he got much respect even from the even the hardest dudes there. He was very different from me to say the least but that's one of the things I liked so much about him. He smoked weed, which is something until that time I had never been around. I can't say I liked it but I didn't come into his life to change him. Even still I used to buy him weed all the time even though I never smoked and I still haven't to this day. He'd gone through so many hardships in his life, we grew up so different but I was just so glad we found each other. I was in love. I knew he was wrong for me but when we were together it felt so right. He was different from anyone else I've ever dated and his whole way of life was different for me. Maybe I was a little sheltered. Maybe I needed to experience something new so I thought I would give it a try.

I have to admit that there were many times I was scared going to see Michael. We would go out on dates at night and being the gentleman I am I would go all the way home with him bringing him all the way to his door. We never wanted those nights to end. I remember being horny and messing around with him by his door. He would then take me into the stairs and suck the hell out of my dick. I guess I wasn't so scared of the projects that I would refuse a blowjob. Once I came back to myself and he went in the house I remember sprinting out of them projects back to the street where at least I felt it was somewhat safe. In retrospect I think I probably was overreacting and probably looked a dayum fool to anyone looking out of the window.

We would hang out during the day too. He introduced me to a lot of his friends who lived in the development. His closest friend was Penelope. Penelope was a sweetheart but she was the epitome of a hood chick. Two kids, no job, drinking malt liquor, spitting, smoking, doing the hair of all the girls in the projects, all the stereotypes. One day me Michael and Penelope were sitting outside on a bench. It was like 12 or 1 o'clock in the afternoon. Penelope was smoking and drinking and then she said she had to pee and motioned to get up. She scooted up on the bench a little. Next thing I know she pulled her shorts forward toward her knees and pissed right there on the ground sitting next to me, in the middle of the day, in the summer, in the courtyard of the projects, full of people, mostly children. I had never been so shocked and appalled in all my life. I was dumbfounded. All I remember is seeing this strong, yellow stream of urine hitting the ground hard. I remember moving my feet as not to let the river of urine flow toward my shoes. I couldn't help it but every bourgeois molecule inside of me boiled over and I said:

"Oh my God, Penelope, you pee like a boy!"

I made light of it but secretly I was disgusted, I was the only person who had an adverse reaction to it though. Everyone else moved on with their day as normal, even Michael. I guess this was normal for them. At that moment I questioned how I would fit in here and whether I even wanted to. If Penelope did this, what does Michael do that I haven't seen? I was starting to feel really uncomfortable in the projects. And I know if my parents knew where I was spending my days they would flip. I was raised differently and as much as you may try deviate from how you were raised it can still have a hold on you, whether positive or negative. I really loved him but I knew deep down that this was not going to last so I just decided to enjoy it while I could but at that moment somebody flipped over the hourglass.

One day I was gonna come over to hang out with him and he canceled on me. Y'all know how much I hate that. I saw him the next day and he told me the reason why we couldn't hang out the day before. The police came and arrested Penelope's brother, who so happens to be the neighborhood drug dealer. The federal agents were coming to do a search on Penelope's apartment, where her brother was also staying. Michael and Penelope spent all of the day before ridding the house of contraband. Well at least he had a good reason, right?

While we were outside Penelope asks Michael to let her in his apartment upstairs. She said that she needed to go and make twenty dollars real quick. We all end up upstairs in Michael's room. Penelope walks in and Michael hands her a small package from way in the back of his closet. She takes it and leaves. I ask:

"What was that?"

"Crack."

"Crack, what you mean crack?"

"Penelope is gonna to sell it to one of the fiends outside."

"Wait a minute. That's crack, like real live crack, crack! Like I'll suck yo dick for two dollars, crack?"

"Yeah"

"Oh hayell no' I thought. I don't know much about the criminal justice system as I have never gotten as much as a parking ticket before but I do know that if the police walked in we'd all be going to jail. Needless to say that was the beginning of the end for me and Michael. By that time we had been having some other issues and this only magnified them. Even though I loved him a lot (a little too much, but that's a whole 'nother blog post) we ended our relationship soon after for unrelated reasons.

Me and Michael obviously weren't meant to be. We were just too different. Some would say that I should have stayed around him and helped him to change, to make him better. I don't feel as though I'm any quote-unquote better than Michael. I just make and have made different decisions. To try to be an influence on him would imply that his way of life is wrong and mine is right. Of course I don't advocate the sale of illegal drugs and I let him know how I felt about it but that's all I could do. I know that that kind of life wasn't good for me. Sometimes an unsuccessful trial at a different way of life gives us the confidence not to change.

And don't get me wrong. I know that everyone is who lives in the projects does not live like the people mentioned in this blog post. This is my personal experience. The life you live is dictated more by your state of mind than the state you live in. But I still do believe that your surroundings can influence you.

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Playing In The Background...
"Healing"
by Kelly Price
from the album "This Is Who I Am"
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Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 10:15 AM | Permalink | Comments (3) | TrackBacks (0)

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With this post I am inaugurating two new categories: "Sex" and "Memory Lane"
Posts in the "Sex" category will be obviously be more sexual in nature and may be rendered explicit or even obscene to some. Posts in the "Memory Lane" category are past experiences of mine that I decide to share.
Enjoy.
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As tops, in sexual situations we are expected to perform. If the sex is not good for some reason it's somehow blamed on us "he wasn't hard enough", "that nigga's dick wasn't big enough", "his stroke was wack!", "he nutted too quick", etc., etc., etc. For me I don't think of these situations as so much a lack of prowess but a bad case of nerves more than anything. There's a lot of pressure put on us especially when we really like the person and it's our first time being intimate.

I remember I had an ex who was really kewl and I really liked him. We enjoyed all the time we spent together and we'd had good sex in the past but when it came time to do it one night for some reason I just couldn't get it up. He would suck it, he would play with it, but still it would remain limp as a drag queen's wrist. He'd ask me was it him, did he do something wrong. I'd say no. Then he'd get visibly aggravated (that DOES NOT help, by the way). We broke up soon after that for unrelated reasons.

I didn't understand then why my dick went on sabbatical for a while there. Now that I think about it, maybe it was him. I think my problem may have started as a one time thing but the way he reacted to it put me in such an insecure place and then that made any subsequent sexual endeavors with him less about lovemaking and more about proving that I wasn't impotent at 21 years old! Good sex for me is all about being relaxed and enjoying the moment but I couldn't do that with him anymore.

That blow to my sexual self esteem prompted me to take some drastic measures. I went out and got me some Viagra. Most people think of Viagra as something for old men but I had heard of men of all ages taking it recreationally as a sex booster of sorts. Did I go to the doctor you ask, nope. I ordered it online right from the comfort of my own home. A real doctor probably would have laughed me out of his office. As unbelievable as it sounds you can get Viagra online without a prescription. I don't know how legal it is but it's possible. I found a website, ordered 4 Viagra pills and had it shipped overnight. That cost me a little over $100 (Viagra sho' ain't cheap!).

Once the pills came I was anxious to give them a try so I scheduled a "date" with this dude. I fucked, and fucked, and fucked, and fucked, and fucked, and fucked this dude for hours. What's so cool about Viagra is that it doesn't just make your dick hard as soon as you take it. It only works when you're stimulated. It's like magic! The only side effect I experienced was a really bad headache.

In retrospect I realize that I didn't need the Viagra. What I needed was the validation I got from fucking the other dude. Does Viagra work? Yes. Would I take it again? Unless it was prescribed by a doctor, no. I got from the internet what I thought was and what looked like Viagra. It didn't necessarily have to be. In retrospect I realize that I put myself in grave danger and that probably wasn't my smartest idea. The things we do to get our nutt off...

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Playing In The Background...
"You Are My Everything"
by Janelle Monae
from the album "Metropolis"
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PS: Me and that ex hooked up a year later and he sucked my dick. I didn't have the problem that night.

Posted by Adam Benjamin Irby at 01:48 PM | Permalink | Comments (2) | TrackBacks (0)