I wrote this blog post not to long ago about how it seems that lately all the guys that rejected me and played me seemed to all be crawling back all of a sudden. Well, like everything else in life this theory works both ways.
I met this guy online two years ago around Christmastime, let's call him Thomas. He was fine as hell, my type too, petite, pretty face, slim body and a phat ass. He even let me beat on the first date (which unlike a lot of guys is something I like and makes me want the dude more, especially if I'm into him). Things seemed to be perfect, until he told me that he was only in New York for a few weeks and was going back to school. I tried to squeeze in as much time as I could with him while he was here but he kept breaking dates. I HATE, HATE, HATE, HATE, HATE, HATE, HATE, HATE THAT! I liked him but at that point I became disinterested and as the time loomed for him to go back to school and I knew much better than to try to even attempt a long distance relationship even though that seemed like what he wanted to do. So like a true faggot I just stopped calling him and I stopped answering his many phone calls.
That next summer, school was out again and I'd see him around the neighborhood. He was still fine as hell and as much as I wanted to talk to him I avoided him like the plague. Whenever I saw him coming toward me I'd look away or if I saw him walking in front of me I'd slow my pace down as not to pass him. After seeing him again I felt really foolish about what I'd done, but I guess not foolish enough to stop being a pussy and go up to him to rectify things. I was in a relationship at that time so it wasn't even about trying to get back with him, but I knew in my heart of hearts that I needed to apologize, especially since I hate it so much when dudes do that kinda shit to me. The better part of me knew that that was the right thing to do but I let the worst part of me rationalize my way out of it. I mean like, what if he would he would have gotten mad or even worse didn't even remember me anymore? So I remained a coward all that summer.
Fast forward to a few months ago. I saw him at an out-of-town even I attended with friends. It was one of those meetings where you're walking, talking looking in one direction and your friend says "Hey, Adam this is so-and-so..." and without having time to brace yourself, you look over and there he is, was, Thomas. Awkward pause, detached half hug, awkward salutations exchanged and then you move on. During the course of that day and due to the fact that we were trapped at the same event we exchanged a few more words. I braced myself for the question of "Adam, why did you stop calling me?" as though it were the French Revolution and I was waiting for the ax to fall. My fear wasn't so much the question, but that I, the blogger, the writer, the person who always has something to say would have absolutely nothing to say to answer this question. It was stupid, there was no reason for me to just up and stop calling him the way I did. I could have just been a man and told him how I felt. And now he looks good, really good and he's probably not even at that school anymore and maybe if I'd played my cards right we could have rekindled something. I was horny as hell that weekend too and I surely wouldn't have minded him kindling my log.
Fast forward to Sunday, June 29th, 2008, NYC Pride. I ran into Thomas on the corner of West 4th Street & 6th Avenue right by Washington Mutual Bank. Thomas was on his phone. I scribbled my phone number on one of my birthday flyers we were passing out that night and motioned for him to call me as I continued up the street. 'Dammit! I shoulda got his number!' I thought as I walked away. A part of me wanted to go back down the block but then I would have looked real stupid and thirsty so I went on.
Fast forward to a few weeks ago. One night as I was on my way downtown to do some promotion at a club for my birthday party I ran into Thomas on the subway platform. We exchanged salutations and a few moments of small talk as the train approached the station. Unfortunately, we'd only be riding this train together one stop so I didn't really see it befitting to give my sorrowful apology right then. Before he got off the train I got his number but it didn't mean too much because he had just lost his phone. Damn.
That next week I was walking up the street approaching a club where I was going to do some more promotion that night when right outside I run into Thomas. He was talking on a cell phone which I later found out wasn't his, he was just borrowing it for the evening. The conversation seemed serious, like a family matter or something. He acknowledged my presence as he stood there talking on the phone in one ear and his finger in another. So I walked away from him, going to converse with friends. A few minutes later I looked over in his direction and he was gone.
Later that night inside the club. I looked over to the bar at one of the go-go boys. He had a slim, petite, bangin' ass body covered by only on a white jock strap that hugged his ass just right. I wouldn't usually be into jock straps as they remind me of bad 70's black and white porno movies but it worked for him. I was getting hypnotized as he shook, grinded, and writhed to the music. The go-go boy turned around and I saw that it was Thomas. Oh shit. I didn't see him again for the rest of the night.
To be continued...
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Playing In The Background...
"If I Could"
by Dru Hill
from the album "Dru World Order"
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