I’m starting to believe Carrie Bradshaw was most likely correct in her theory, this land was distinctively different from the one celebrities depicted in movies.
New York was the place filled with dreams.
Where one could find the love of their life.
Chase all of the dreams and become successful on the commons of Wall Street.
A place where you moved with only forty dollars in your pocket, and one goal- to be happy.
However, the Big Apple was also the place where we didn’t have breakfast at Tiffany’s anymore, almost everyone woke up at noon, MTA sucks on so many levels so everyone resulted towards Uber or Lyft, it was a place where bars became the new clubs, clubs the new Jack’d and their bathrooms became our new bedrooms.
It’s grown to be a place where having sex came so freely in the gay community, the straight community as included; we held no deeper compassion for a one night stand and saw no stronger remorse in leaving after.
It happened so often, you have various one night stands and never ever notice the count anymore. Although I held no judgment with the character (my theory, let your freak flag fly Sistah-girl), however, my mother raised me to be a sort of refined gay– I always held curiosity in their ways.
Kinda questioning, due to us all being men, having sex like the stereotypical man where our emotions no longer tie into our conscious; when did the feelings come into play? And if that seems to stump you, I’ll give you another, when does the line cross from being a man to being a savage?
The Artist Farewells
“Let him know what you’re about to get into. If he’s not set on the plan, don’t even leave your house.” Ivory confessed. I asked him about the thought of having sex like a man, but feeling the symptoms of a woman- which I thought was the perfect person to ask, due to him being bi-sexual he’s encountered both ends of the deal. “It’s different for tops and bottoms- in my opinion- some tops really don’t care how things work out, some actually do-“
“Let me guess, you’re one of the tops that don’t care-” Shane questioned, he lifted his hand for the bartender’s attention, but she just continued on passed him.
“I can’t help it, it’s in my nature.” Ivory replied.
“I’m sure half the men like you say the same thing,”
“Where do you think I got the line from? We are trained in the art of deceiving- by the older men who have deceived us. Everyone tells you that this is a game, little jay. Start to believe it.” Ivory reached out for the bartender’s arm, ordering four margaritas on the rocks.
Taraji thought best to chime in. “I’ve had one before- a one night stand, it was in a hotel in Punta Cana, I felt weird after he nutted, I was alone and I ordered room service because it was so awkward.”
On a rainy Tuesday night, I joined some friends for a couple rounds of 2 for 1 drinks at a Loft in the Lower East Side, the music varied from loud to soft, I guess giving people time to converse. And that’s exactly what my friends and I chose to do. I invited a handful of guys, majority gay- only to help me understand another’s aspect of one night twirls.
“Room service?” Ivory chuckled, he took a large gulp from his glass. “If he knows what you’re going to do, after that you have no reason to speak- that’s how I see it. You do it, boom boom boom, then you say ‘Sayonara!'”
“What if he says he’s not going to catch feelings, and then ends up doing so anyway?” I asked.
Ivory paused from continuing walking back to the barstool that held our coats, his slender fingers touched my chin softly, and his lips puckered up as if he was going to kiss me, but instead- he spoke. “Repeat after me, SAYO-NAR-RA.”
It’s NOT Just Work, And It’s Really Not a Game, But It Is Sport
“We had a threesome with one of our clients, he fucking fell in love with us, wanted to buy us mad gifts, then got upset when we didn’t want to go to Red Lobster.”
‘Mad’ was New York slang for a lot.
The music had gotten to a low point again, making it manageable to speak, and one of the most fascinating couples I knew had stepped into the fold. Leo and Devon. A homosexual couple that thrived on open sex, escort empowerment, and LGBT activism- they also thrived on being circled around by gays, I just thrived on their stories.
“He brought me some basketball shorts, but only because he wanted to see pictures of me in them, though. Texting me all the time, not the work phone, my personal jack. That’s not what we are about.”
‘Jack’ was New York lingo for a phone.
Devon seemed flustered just thinking of the man’s generosity, he took a hefty swig of the second round of Margaritas we had engulfed.
“‘Don’t buy your way into our relationship.’” Leo yelled angrily- most likely giving a broad representation of his boyfriend. “He was very upset when this all happened.”
“I couldn’t tell…” Taraji replied, gathering laughs from some.
“Well, two weeks later he showed up at the job, then wouldn’t go away, Devon almost fought him once. Showed up in a white car, even let me drive once, but he was crazy, talking about the future with us.” Leo informed us.
“You allowed a client to get this close in your relationship?”Taraji argued.
“He wasn’t in it!” Devon argued. “He didn’t know anything about our personal life, he just picked us up from the job before.” They both seemed to fire back.
The music was going to amplify soon, but there was still so much I wanted to know, I could see the DJ prepping to start his lineup once more, but I dared myself to asked another question.
“Everyone wants a sugar daddy; someone who says they are going to take care of you and actually does- I’m sure you guys could’ve had him for tuition instead of continuing to work, I mean- the man let you drive his BMW… If you are going to continue to have various clients, why not just stick with the wealthy?”
“It’s not only for money, little blue jay, it’s also for sport. The men we take on, it’s fun to do this shit, me and my husband make these fags scream our name, taking over someone’s cunt- together- feels amazing. Each face, a different look of terror.” Leo looked down at his bulge. “We actually had a conversation about taking you for a turn, no extra cost necessary the first time you ride for free.” I had felt more than offended at the time- I even backed away too!
Here they were, in this luxurious loft- thousands of available, hungry, single searching men, just waiting for me to pounce from the table and say ‘I’M SINGLE, TAKE ME AWAY!’
But no, I was here, sipping on a warm Amaretto Sour, being hit on by an escort that was married…
Jesus take the wheel.
Not At The Cost of One’s Pride
After a very hungover and head pounding morning, I had one calming, coffee filled afternoon with my good friend, let’s call him. Chonsey. I met Chonsey on Instagram a few months ago- he attended Lehman College, he was a writer who had a blog as well, much like myself; Chonsey knew the dramatic antics of finding love in NYC, especially when it came to the Men department. In fact, if there was one person I was convinced would find love, it would probably be Chonsey.
From the way he wrote romance novels, I just knew he was destined to make some guy happy- unfortunately, that wasn’t me- to which I was okay with. Obviously, Chonsey wasn’t his real name, however, in respect for his privacy- Chonsey it is.
Over steaming hot vanilla Cappuccinos, I was telling him about my night and the conversation that was circling the group at the Loft, but he cut me off.
“Of course, those two would do that. Ew. No. Not me. If you aren’t my man, you are not tasting this forbidden apple, and don’t even think about allowing your snake to deflower my garden! No matter how well you flick that serpent’s tongue. Ugh!” He looked out the window for a moment, possibly recollecting something, possibly thinking of his hatred for one nighters.
“You have no idea how many boys I’ve seen get sick because they were just out here having sex, you gotta be careful- it takes more than condoms now-”
“You’re totally against one night stands? Have you ever had one before?” I asked.
“Hasn’t everyone? Not proud of it, but you do what your heart wants- at sixteen- my dick was basically my heart. At least it was after ‘You Know Who’ broke up with me.” I nodded. “Whatever! My view on things, treat every guy like you’re a virgin when it comes to sex- in our case if you wait long enough, it will feel like you are. So watch who creams ya doughnut.”
The Night the Seamstress met an Angel.
Believe it or not, in times of desperate need, I turn to the elderly to give me the wise. SO- this time, I turned to the father of an old friend. He had divorced his wife fifteen years ago, and three months after he did so, he also divorced his hypothetical closet- now in another marriage with the guy from two flights down.
Fast forward fourteen years later and well into my homo-adulthood, I have had the grace of knowing the both of them. Think of them as the gayest oracles you will ever meet.
“That’s one I have yet to talk about with you.” David looked shocked, he was a sixty-seven-year-old seamstress, and I have been coming to him to repair my clothes for years. He turned back to his husband, “Are you sure you want to be in the room for this, honey? One night stands, whoo my!” David pretended to wipe sweat from his eyebrow.
“Go on, tell the boy the story- I know you were wild.”
“No story. Not much to tell I believe, except for my age; it was 1986, Michael Jackson was playing at a bar in Chelsea, maybe Billie Jean or possibly Bad. There was a guy in the corner, looking at me sitting in the booth with my pals. Handsome cat. Came right over and took my cigarette off my lips and popped it into his mouth. Told me it was his now. Come and get it back.”
“What did you do?!” I gushed in agony.
“Well, first- I got my cigarette. Then I got my man.”
“So you ended up dating him?! It wasn’t a one night stand.”
“He was confused at first, wasn’t sure what he wanted… Neither was I, to be honest. But we loved to be inside each other. One night we went back to that bar, I saw him in there- not in the same corner, though. And, he snatched up my cigarette again. I knew I loved him after. It just couldn’t be one night, I wanted more, I wanted him for a longer time.”
“Whatever happened to him? I mean-” I cut myself off, but felt foolish for doing so, someone had to point out the obvious, but it was evident David hadn’t been living with a man his whole life. “I mean, clearly you got married to a woman and then found Donald, so-“
“He got into an accident on his motorcycle in Hunts Point, I listened to my grandmother’s infuriating sense in saying it was all god’s plan to get me on the straight and narrow.”
I could tell from the oncoming tears in David’s eyes that I had opened a can of worms not so easy to seal. “He was the love of my life, think about him every single day since then, even through my marriage. All the times I got into spats after, I would like to think he’s my guardian angel.”
One night stands could be tricky. It could get messy when someone gets too attached, or when someone’s self-esteem is diminished, or in the event of having to deal with someone who falls in love; and then also- you couldn’t be totally oblivious to a well hidden and commonly unspeakable possibility.
You might fall for him as well.
In a world, scratch that-
In a city, where we thought of sex as just sex and love had no interference intertwined, how could a man forged a relationship with another man in 1986, comprised from one night stands, and in 2017- we have so many men with the actual goal to stay single… Was it really all just sport and skill, a game designed to have infinite players just waiting to meet their match? Or at least the psychedelic orgasm of the score?
Driving so deeply into the generation’s mind, I can only concur that sex is in some sense better than love to half of my city’s population. Or even scarier, the thought that sex combined with multiple lovers could also suffice…
It was so hard not to be a Debbie downer in a world where half of the single men praised one night stands, and the other half who were in relationships also praised a good one night fuck with a plus one.
If the question didn’t turn into ‘Is there even a man looking for a real relationship anymore?’, then it would most likely be ‘How the hell do I find monogamy through one night stands?’