A writer's journey of dating and living gay in Seattle exposed.
by Tristan Wilde
As a society, our day-to-day lives are vastly dictated by a number of rules. Some rules are put into place to maintain civility, while others are intended to incorporate trust and consistency into our actions. Certain rules have become such a staple to our existence, that they are common sense. For instance, we cannot expect to drive ninety-five miles per hour in a fifty-five mile per hour zone without realizing there’s a chance of being pulled over by the police. There are other rules that become new to us and to which we must grow accustom. For example, if we start a new job, the company’s employee guidelines will surely differ from those companies for which we’ve previously worked. Then there are those rules we bestow upon ourselves to maintain structure in our lives. Perhaps we go to bed at a certain time every night so that we can wake early enough to make the most of our day. These are not rules by which we have to live; rather, they are rules we choose to follow. However, there is one common denominator to all these rules. It’s quite simple. If we break the rules, there are usually consequences.
In the dating world, let alone gay dating, there are no set rules. Sure, there’s a certain moral code that some follow (emphasis on the word “some”). After all, there are those who want nothing more than to “score” on a first date. Then there are those who still subscribe to the old-school etiquette of dating, such as not kissing on the first date. But let’s be real here. If I’m out to a nice dinner, having great conversation, and feel that special spark between us, chances are I’m going in for that kiss by the end of the night. Nevertheless, everybody’s dating journey is different. Some are strict with the rules by which they put in place for that all-important first date, while others throw any and all rules out the window.
Considering the world of dating is new to me, I decide on a few rules of my own. If anything, they act as guidelines for the protection of both myself and the guys I date. My own rules for dating are as follows:
Rule #1: I never give out the unit number to my condo. Being a fairly renowned writer, I have enough stalkerazzi as it is. Not to mention, since I do my best to stay on a schedule, I’m not a fan of surprise visits. Let’s not even discuss the guys who end up getting blitzed and come knocking on the door in the wee hours of the morning, in all their drunken (and horny) glory, wanting nothing more than to have their dicks sucked. Thus, if a guy is coming to pick me up for a date, I tell him I’ll meet him by the leasing office of the complex. Safe and sane. I try my best to maintain this as my motto.
Rule #2: I always tell guys I date when I’m dating others. Some disagree with me on this. After all, there are many in Seattle’s gay culture who tend to think the term “dating” equals relationship exclusivity. To me, dating is getting to know and going out with various people. If you want the exclusive, let’s make it happen. Otherwise, we’re simply going out and having dinner or catching a movie. Sure, we’re more than friends, but we’re using the time to learn about each other. Things might head toward a relationship, but I’m not missing out on my future husband because I’ve gone out with you a couple times.
Rule #3: I will not get sexually intimate with a guy until we’ve gone out on three separate occasions. I call this, the “Three-Date Rule.” Not only does this indicate which guys are actually interested in pursuing a relationship, but it gets rid of those who are only looking for one thing (see the latter part of Rule #1). Don’t think you can take me out and pay for an expensive dinner on our first date with the expectation that you’ll be getting some action later in the evening. First off, that would make me nothing more than a prostitute. Secondly, you can get that for free by posting a personal ad in the “M4M Casual Encounters” section of Craigslist. Perhaps I’ve graduated beyond my days of drunken club-hopping and one-night stands. Or maybe I just want to get to know a person better for who they are and not what they can offer as temporary gratification.
So those are my rules. Very simple and not too demanding. Between the standards I seek in a guy and the rules I apply to dating, I really don’t think I’m limiting any potential candidates (serious candidates, that is) along my journey of finding love in this city. Surely, it can’t be difficult to follow three simple rules?
I’m torn between Diego and Efrain. Having a romantic interest for two different men is new to me, considering all I have ever known has been relationships consisting of monogamy and loyalty. Such a feeling is as virgin to me as the Jet City itself and dating altogether.
What both Diego and Efrain share in their unique and attractive qualities, is differentiated by their availability. Diego and I have such busy schedules that it’s difficult for us to synchronize a time to get together. Efrain, on the other hand, makes the time to get to know me. He calls me even when he’s worked twelve hours straight. Sure, the conversation might not be all that involved–sometimes, it’s just a simple ‘How was your day?’–but he still makes the effort. Part of me thinks that Efrain has more of an interest in me than Diego. But then I think of the time Diego heroically saved me from a bad situation with The Stylist. I think of the time he and I have shared together. My mind goes back to a place of casual conversation over a candlelit dinner and soft kisses.
While my feelings for Efrain are beginning to grow, all I know of him has been limited to my talking to him at the market where he works and the number of late-night telephone conversations we’ve shared. Granted, they’ve been very pleasant conversations, we’ve not actually shared such over dinner or a movie. In fact, given how many times we’ve talked on the phone, we’ve never set-up an official date. And it is that particular thought that has me deciding I’m going to make the first move to change the situation.
It’s 10:30pm when my phone rings. Efrain, I think. He’s done with work, has gone to the gym, and is now giving me a call. The routine has been the same over the past several nights, so I don’t doubt this. However, when I look at the illuminating screen of my cell, it shows a local number with “Unknown Name” displayed over the top. This brings me to the law of the land as it pertains to my cell phone. If the name shows, I answer the call. If not, leave a message. After all, when I exchange numbers with a friend, a guy I meet, or even a new editor with whom I’m working, I immediately put their name into my “Contacts” list of my cell. Chances are that if your name doesn’t appear when you call, I don’t know you. So I let the call go to voicemail. No message is left.
Less than two minutes later, my cell notifies me of a new text message. Again, thinking it’s Efrain, my excitement gets the best of me as I quickly retrieve the text. Instead, it’s Diego. ‘How are you tonight?’
I reply with ‘Good. You?’
‘Missing you,’ he texts. ‘You still mad?’
‘I don’t get mad, remember?’
‘You get even? LOL’
Really? I think. LOL?
So maybe I am disappointed with Diego. Maybe there is a part of me still pissed at Diego for lying to me. OK, perhaps he didn’t lie to me. Perhaps he suddenly felt better that particular day and wanted to go out with his friends instead of coming over to my place for my planned fiesta. Maybe I’m being too hard on him. It’s been almost a week and our communication has resorted to nothing more than texts. No phone calls initiated by either of us. I try not holding grudges against people, but it’s difficult not to do when it’s a person I like. That said, I text him, ‘What’s with this texting bullshit? Give me a call.’
Within seconds, my phone rings. “Hi, stranger,” I answer.
“Hey.” Diego sounds exhausted. “How are things going?”
“They’re going well.”
“That’s good. I just got home from work a bit ago.”
“How was work?” I ask.
“Same shit, different day.”
Silence. A concern rushes over me because it’s the type of silence that two people shouldn’t be experiencing this soon after knowing one another. It’s that dreaded silence in which two people have run out of things to say; ultimately, the precursor to the end of getting to know another person. However, I have feelings for Diego and don’t feel we have gotten close to touching the surface of conversations we could explore. In fact, there should be plenty to learn about each other. That said, I break the silence with, “So, when are we going to get together?”
“When do you want to come over?”
“No,” I reiterate, “I mean go out somewhere. Let’s grab dinner or a movie this weekend.”
“I’m busy working all weekend.”
“OK,” I attempt to negotiate, “how about tomorrow?”
“Sure, come by tomorrow. We can have wine by the fireplace and–”
I cut him off. “How about dinner at a restaurant?”
“What is your deal with wanting to go out?” Diego raises his voice. “I told you I don’t go ‘out.’”
“Oh. Okay.” I pause before soon realizing that I feel like I’m being pushed into something I don’t want. “You said you don’t do the ‘club thing.’ You didn’t mention anything about going out to dinner or a movie, or even going bowling or to the museum.”
“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he almost yells over the phone.
“Uh, nothing is fucking wrong with me. What the fuck is wrong with you?” Now my voice is raised.
Silence for a few seconds, then “I’m sorry. I’ve had a bad day.”
“We all have bad days,” I empathize, “but you’re taking your bad day out on me.”
“I’m sorry, babe,” he apologizes again. Babe? I think.
My cell alerts me of another call. I quickly glance at the screen to discover Efrain’s name. And as much as I’m torn between Diego and Efrain, I realize that the conversation between me and Diego has to end. Efrain is currently winning in the battle for my feelings. The tingling sensation of fluttering butterflies fills my stomach just from seeing his name on the LCD screen.
“Hey, I need to go. My mom’s calling on the other line,” I lie. When all else fails, you can always pull the mom card. Nobody is going to keep you on the phone with mom calling. If they do, then they’re a selfish piece of shit (at least in my book).
“OK. Again, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Part of me thinks I’m being honest because I’ve taken bad days out on others as well. Still, another part has me thinking that I’m deceiving Diego. After all, I don’t appreciate being yelled at. My days of being disrespected have been over for quite some time.
“I guess I’ll talk to you soon, right?”
“Sure,” I say in a hurry. Talk soon. Have a good night.”
As Diego is saying “Good night,” I eagerly switch over to Efrain. “Hey there,” I answer.
“Hi,” Efrain greets me with excitement in his voice. “I thought I was going to voicemail.”
“Sorry about that. I was on the other line.”
“Oh, do you want me to let you go?”
“Not at all,” I counter. “In fact, I’ve been waiting for your call.”
“Really?” His laughter forces me to smile.
“Of course. I was going to see if you wanted to get together for dinner this weekend.”
“Actually, I was going to ask you out to dinner next week. I’m in between paychecks,” he explains.
“How about I take you out to dinner instead?”
“Don’t do that, silly,” Efrain objects.
“Why not?”
“Because I want to take you out.”
How sweet, I think. However, I can’t wait a week to see Efrain. There’s something about the guy that gets me excited each time we speak on the phone. His chivalry isn’t helping matters. I hear that laughter and see his beaming face, and I just want to kiss him. I try to meet him halfway. “Well, how about you cook dinner for me then?”
He wildly laughs, “I don’t see that happening. I burn toast.”
“OK. What about me cooking for you?”
“You would do that?”
“Of course! I can make dinner and we can watch a movie.”
“That would be great! How about Thursday? I have Friday off and I can pick you up after I get off work. Does 4:15 sound good?”
I’m instantly glad he offers to have me cook dinner at his place. After all, it is our first date and I have rules by which I have to abide. “Sure. Does Chicken Parmesan sound good to you?”
“I love Italian food.”
“Perfect! Thursday it is. I’ll text you my address.”
We talk on the phone a bit more. It’s small talk about how our days have gone. Soon, we’re hanging up. I’m not sure what comes over me, but I’m practically dancing around like a crazy fool. I’m brimming with excitement and elated that I get to go on a date with Efrain. I think of his cute face and slight accent, and I’m suddenly a boy with a high school crush all over again. I don’t think of Diego for the rest of the evening.
Thursday can’t come soon enough. But when it arrives, my nerves are a wreck. I’m so nervous about my dinner with Efrain that I can’t think straight (no pun intended). I make the decision to play hooky from the writing and focus on tonight’s date. I have my routine two cups of coffee while perusing the social networks. Afterward, I take a quick shower, throw on an old pair of Calvin Klein jeans and a t-shirt. It’s probably the first time in a while that I don’t bother spending much time in the mirror as I’m on a mission.
I head downtown to Banana Republic and grab a cute, but simple, outfit for the evening. Racing against the clock, I make my way to Pike Place Market and gather ingredients for this evening’s meal. The hours easily pass as I get back to my place and start prepping the sauce for dinner. I practically chop off my finger as I hastily slice the portabella mushrooms. While the sauce simmers, I cut up the vegetables for an accompanying salad and make a balsamic vinaigrette dressing. By the time I’m done prepping the essentials, packaging them and cleaning up the kitchen, it’s already 2:30pm.
I rush into the bathroom and take another shower. I throw on tonight’s outfit: a chic, black button-down shirt (although I do leave the top two buttons undone) and a pair of low-rise jeans. I accessorize the outfit with a black belt and leather loafers (courtesy of Prada) and finish it all off with a few sprays of Emporio Armani cologne upon my neck, chest, and forearms. I’m ready for my first date with Efrain.
At four o’clock, I get a text from Diego. ‘Hey, I’m getting off early this evening. Do you want to come over?’
‘I have plans for tonight,’ I text. ‘Maybe another night?’
‘What type of plans?’
‘Going out on a date.’ I wince as I await his response.
Just as I expected, Diego replies with ‘A DATE??? OK. I guess you don’t care about me then.’
A sudden frustration rushes over me. I don’t need this right now. ‘Yes. A date. And I do care about you. I’ll talk with you soon, OK?’
‘Have fun fucking your date,’ is the text that comes back. My jaw slightly drops. No, I can’t have this affecting my evening with Efrain. I don’t bother responding to Diego’s text.
My phone rings a minute after I set it down and walk away. The display reads “Unknown Name” once again. No message is left when it goes to voicemail. At this point, I decide to make a mental note to turn off my cell phone once Efrain picks me up. A few minutes later, after returning to the mirror several times to make sure I look good for tonight’s date, my phone rings again. It’s Efrain. “Hey,” I answer. If he could see my face he would notice that I have a smile going from ear to ear.
“I’m here. Where should I park?”
“Park at the leasing office. I’ll be down in just a minute.”
“Do you need help bringing down the things?”
“Sure,” I answer without thinking twice.
I make my way down the stairs from my condo and meet Efrain at the leasing office. He is perfect. Beautiful. It doesn’t matter that he’s still in his work clothes. For the first time, I’m seeing him outside of work. He gives off a different demeanor. He gives off a vibrant sexiness that I never noticed before. Efrain greets me with a hug and buries his face in my neck. “You smell good,” he compliments.
“Thanks. My place is this way.”
As we cross the threshold of my condo, I realize I broke the first of three of my dating rules. This is my first time seeing Efrain and he has been to my home. I give him a quick tour. After showing him the bathroom he points down the hallway. “Is that your bedroom?”
“Yes. But I’m not going to show you that room.”
Efrain gives me a playful slap on the back. “Silly, what kind of girl do you think I am?”
I uncontrollably laugh.
“After all, it is our first date,” he adds. Again, he scores another point with me for calling this a “date” instead of “hanging out.”
We grab the couple bags I earlier prepared and make our way to the car.
On our way back to his place, we stop by a market to grab a bottle of wine. As we walk through the aisles of the store, I notice a number of people watching us as we pass by. He and I are in sync. Our laughter, along with our confidence in general, appears to be quite noticeable. Efrain explains that he likes white wines. I explain that I enjoy reds. He asks if I’ve ever had Moscato. I state that I haven’t and he grabs a bottle. He then tells me that I should grab my favorite red and we will share our wines with each other.
At the checkout counter, the cashier blatantly remarks, “You two make a cute couple.” Efrain and I look at each other and smile. “Actually,” I respond, “tonight is our first date.” She replies with, “Really? You guys have perfect chemistry?” Both feeling a bit awkward, we thank the lady and tell her to have a nice evening. “You too,” she exclaims.
We arrive at Efrain’s place and it is just as beautiful as he. As he’s showing me around, I notice gold-painted, maple leaves adorning the living room wall above his couch. They’re randomly spaced a few inches from each other and appear as if they’re falling over the area. Similar leaves adorn the wall above his bed. However, the leaves in the bedroom are painted silver.
“Are those real leaves?”
“Yeah. I collected them from the courtyard last autumn. I used spray-paint to preserve them,” he answered.
“Wow. That’s very creative. It’s fantastic.”
“Thanks.”
As I unpack the bags of food, I pull out two white candles and crystal candlestick holders. I hold them up to Efrain. “I brought candles. I hope that’s all right.”
I’m lost in his smirk as he says, “That’s great.” He informs me that he’s going to get out of his work clothes and take a quick shower. Thus, it would be a good time to start cooking dinner.
I become acquainted with his kitchen and get dinner going. Since I’d already prepared the bulk of it earlier, all that is really left to do is cook the chicken and throw together all the ingredients.
After fifteen minutes, Efrain walks in. He’s wearing a tight t-shirt and low-rise jeans. Beneath those layers of clothing, I can tell that his body is defined. He uncorks both bottles of wine and pours us each a glass. We “cheers” to getting to know each other and start talking as I’m finishing up dinner. We discuss movies, music, celebrities, and all our other pop-culture likes and dislikes. We discuss seeing Tori Amos in concert (as we’re both fans) and I introduce him to Lana Del Rey, my latest musical obsession. It’s casual conversation, but it’s comfortable conversation.
It seems as if only minutes have passed as we’re setting the dining room table. Efrain lights the candles as I bring the food. Appearance-wise, the dinner looks fantastic. Since I love to cook, this doesn’t come as too much of a surprise. However, I wait for Efrain to take that first bite before I relax. He seems to like it and confirms my possible doubts with, “Wow! This tastes amazing.”
The flickering candlelight accentuates our romantic dinner. We continue talking and getting to learn more about each other. However, now it’s gotten much more intimate. We briefly talk of previous relationships we’ve been through and the qualities we seek in another. For the most part, we are in sync and I am happy to hear that he is the type of guy who believes in monogamy and supporting his partner’s goals and dreams. The conversation is veritably perfect. Then Efrain asks, “Are you seeing anyone else?”
My mind is instantly thrown back to Diego’s earlier text. He didn’t seem all too happy with the fact that I told him I was going on a date with another person. I really enjoy Efrain’s company and don’t want to ruin this. So it is, at this point, that I break the second of my three dating rules. “No,” I respond. While I feel guilty for lying to Efrain, I cannot help but be comforted by his smile that follows as a result of my answer.
We continue sitting at the dining room table even though we have already cleared our plates. We indulge in the wine, each alternating between the Moscato and Malbec. Our discussions continue and, at one point, Efrain places his hand on top of mine. My heart races. I look into his chocolate-colored eyes and lean in to kiss him. He anxiously accepts. An explosion of tingling sensations goes off in every part of my body. This is the fairy tale, I tell myself. Our lips separate and he brings his mouth to my ear. Efrain licks the lower lobe and says, “Come on.” He pulls me to my feet, quickly blows out the candles, and leads me to his bedroom.
After shutting the door behind us, Efrain and I succumb to the anxious mysteries of a dark bedroom. Our mouths meet in a deep kiss that goes on for minutes. Soon, we strip each other’s clothing. We go in for another elongated kiss as the warmth of our bodies brushes against each other. My hands explore Efrain’s lower back and ass. Soft hands upon smooth skin. For a moment, my mind tells me to stop. This is just the first date, it tries to argue. But my passion for Efrain quickly eclipses the thought. I hit that moment in which all inhibitions have been cast aside. And while I typically don’t have a problem with such restraints, I cannot help but give myself to Efrain and feel our connection blaze into something even more powerful. My third rule is about to be broken.
Still locked in a kiss, Efrain and I fall to the bed. Our bodies writhe hard against each other; our hands are discovering the unknown territories of new flesh. My lips break from Efrain’s as I begin kissing his neck. He gently pushes me onto my back and begins playfully biting at my chest and making a wet trail with his tongue down to my stomach. My insides are ignited by so many tickling sensations that I am overwhelmed yet thrilled. The foreplay continues for hours until our passions can no longer be ignored. We continue our kissing as we make love all through the late night.
The next morning, I open my eyes to silver leaves that appear to be falling from above. Efrain’s head is on my chest and my arm is wrapped around him, keeping him pulled in close. He looks up at me. “Good morning.”
“Good morning to you,” I say.
“Let me know when you’re ready to go home.”
“If it’s all right with you, I just want to relax here for a while.”
“OK,” he agrees before kissing my chest.
We lie in bed, listening to each other’s breathing. We hold onto each other. Every once in a while, Efrain gives soft kisses to my chest. I do the same to his forehead. For a long while, it seems that nothing exists besides the two of us.
There are those who say rules are meant to be broken. Perhaps it’s true. Perhaps breaking the rules doesn’t always lead to a bad punishment. Still, regardless of the outcome, there is always some type of consequence for any rule we break. The severity of such ramifications isn’t always black and white. And it’s possible that the consequence is nothing of significance. On the other hand, it can be said that breaking the rules can lead us to the beginning of something for which we’re not prepared. In the dating world, there are no set rules. We make them up as we go. We design our rules to protect ourselves. Without such protection, we open ourselves up to a number of emotions. That in itself can either be a blessing or a curse.
Before I get out of Efrain’s car, he gives me a kiss. “Thanks for a nice evening,” he says.
“No problem. Thank you.”
“Let’s get together soon.”
“OK. I’ll give you a call later,” I tell him.
“OK.” He gives me another kiss.
I watch as he drives away. I whisper, “I think I love you.”
Walking into my condo, I immediately go to my laptop. I find a local florist and purchase flowers to be delivered to Efrain at work the following day. I can’t imagine my world without him. And for the first time in a long while, I feel as if I’ve found true love.
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The journey continues next Saturday, March 23, 2013!
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