Although much can be said for the lack of (sexual) release, one-night-snuggle-stands can be satisfying and sustaining. This, I can admit from experience. Two one-night-snuggle-stands in three weekends, and let's not forget one special one-night-snuggle-stand in August (To read back, click here and here).
Let me tell ya, it was extremely difficult not to have sex with a warm body beside me in my bed. I showed great restraint with *Redboy*, especially when he kept sitting on my hardon and later thrusting back to me while spooning in bed. I guess it's not hard to figure out that I'm in the company of a big bottom boy. He he he.
*****
I met Redboy at a club on Saturday night. Throughout the evening, I admit I was playing the hot & cold game. I wasn't really sure if I was interested in him. He seemed like a nice guy so I offered to buy him a drink, and then I'd leave him alone. Funny that I complain about guys playing mind games when I was the one being the asshole that night.
A friend tells me: "You know [Redboy] likes you alot. I've been watching the cutie look for you when you're not around him." Later that night, the same friend pushes me to take Redboy home. "But I'm not looking for sex." I reply. "Oh... just take him home."
Not too long afterwards, I approach Redboy. "I'm heading home. Come with me." I don't think he expected the invite, but immediately I reiterate: "No, I'm not looking for sex." "So, what are we gonna do?" "Talk..." I say succinctly. "...in a less distracting environment."
Redboy follows. What transpired at my apartment has to be one of the most intellectually stimulating conversations I've had in such a long time. Very unexpected. Redboy is richly educated and so worldly making him a wonderful conversationalist. What was even better was that it was a mutual and balanced discussion from both camps. We talked about many things to the point where we were falling asleep on our chair.
So I told him to sleep over. Again, I had to ensure he knew that I was not looking to get down and dirty in bed nor was I expecting it.
"I'm not looking for sex either." says Redboy.
"I just want to snuggle. Is that okay?" "Yes, ofcourse." We kiss. A few seconds afterwards, he seemed concerned.
"Is everything okay?"
"What do you mean?" I ask.
"Well, it's not usual for a guy to just want to snuggle." I give Redhot an assured smile: "Everything is great. Thanks." I meant it.
*****
Upon wake, Redboy and I had mini-conversations in our half-asleep state. At around 9am, he mentions he was leaving. Sometime past 10am, again he mentions that he was leaving. It wasn't until noon that he finally got up.
I think he wanted a big farewell. I wasn't being very receptive and didn't care much for a goodbye he had hoped for. Redboy seems like a wonderful guy. He is someone I could possibly date, yet I was emotionally detached. I used his body as a hugging post; I was satistied. Now that morning came, I was ready to discard him.
Before exiting my door, he offered his phone number and email address. I couldn't turn him down. Afterall, he was a perfect gentleman, and perhaps we could be friends, maybe even date in the future. In turn, I reciprocated my digits.
When Redboy left, I whacked off to a huge load. I took a well-deserved shower. And then, I headed out for a walk with my camera. I felt great. I felt re-energized. The emptiness I would feel after a one-night-stand is not there.
I guess there's more one-night-snuggle-stands in my future.
When I went on a two week vacation to the West Coast last May, I took well over 1200 pictures. What can I say? I'm a photoholic. I take pictures wherever and whenever I can.
I hope to take a long overdue trip to NYC sometime before Christmas, but it'll all depend on work. Anyways, I thought this would be the perfect opportunity to share some photos I have taken.
Autumn is here, but it sure doesn't feel like it yet. The complaints and groans from co-workers about the coming cold weather started last week. I am actually looking forward to Fall. Yes, I will miss wearing tank tops and shorts, but I get to wear my wool sweaters, leather jackets and boots all over again. I find this whole change of wardrobe exciting. How gay of me, huh?
*****
Last night was the first night in a very long time that I came home from the gym to vegetate in front of the TV. I think it's perfectly healthy to do from time to time. In college, I used to look forward to Fall because it brings season premieres and new episodes. I don't watch alot of TV anymore. Now that I have time to myself again, I laid in bed last night watching The Bachelor.
That show was a complete waste of time. I didn't really care for both men. I should've checked the previews to familiarize myself not to tune in. I could be doing something more constructive like finishing some paintings or returning phone messages. But again, as I said, every now and then, it's perfectly healthy to be a lazy ass.
Having said that, summer was a time when "adventure" came to me. I have a feeling that autumn is where I need to come out of hiding and seek out "adventure". I thought about how easy it is to go online to look for sex. But I refrained last night. I'll wait for the weekend. I'll party then.
In the last 48 hours, a few people asked me for help. One of them was my head manager at work. I ran into her in the elevator. With the recent article about me in a paper, she's asked whether she could use me as her reference for something she wants to do.
"Ofcourse." I say. Oh how the table has turned.
[N.B.* I write the incident on this blog for documentation purposes only.]
I took this picture when I was in Santa Barbara earlier this year. It perfectly captures my feelings at present. I'm in a reflective mode.
There's a bittersweet taste left in my tongue. Nothing could be sweeter.
My summer of 2004 was riddled with raunch, romance, spice and song, with its warm (not hot) late afternoon rays and cool summer nights. To the new friends I've met & to the friends I've lost, the adventure I've welcomed & the opportunities I turned down, to the guys I've fucked (the good lays & the bad), and ofcourse the music of Beyonce that never left my head leaving from a club, I thank you for a memorable summer.
Friday morning, I received an unexpected phonecall: "Hi, I'm ----, the staff writer at DAILY (newspaper). The Director of ---- referred us to you. We want to do a segment on you."
"Uh, sure."
What followed was a 10-15 minute phone interview and a subsequent phonecall from a photographer to meet up with me ASAP. Ten pictures later of showing off my shy but confident smile, the photographer winks: "Don't you feel like a celebrity?"
"No, not really." Deep down, the vain me wanted to give him a threat: "You better make me look good in the layout or else! Photoshop me if you have to!" But I didn't say that.
By Saturday morning, I was excited to grab a copy of the DAILY. I glanced through the paper scanning for a big ass picture of myself. Suddenly, I felt a little like Jake did when he was chronicled in Chicago magazine (click 1, 2, 3 and 4).
On the article spotlighting myself, the writer had to focus on certain things that I had hoped would not end up in print. But ofcourse it did. Overall though, it was still well-written. My reaction to my picture was mixed. I thought it was decent, but apparently EVERY person that saw it said I was photogenic.
I guess I'm just being too hard on myself.
"The girls in the office was going gaga over your article. I didn't have the heart to tell them you were gay." says a colleague friend I've known for five years.
So yeah, I'm mister popular for a Saturday, and especially late Saturday night when I attended a huge festival party. I thought it'd be a bust bringing my camera, but final picture tally that evening was 76 pictures: mostly of people I've met in the past two weeks and others who probably I will never see again. I got asked out by a GWG (girl without gaydar) earlier last week. [I added her number to the BAD bowl.] I was also asked out by another GWG at the party. I just blushed then politely declined.
Coming home past 5:30am from an afterparty, it seemed rather not right to enter my apartment by myself. Suddenly, my popular status doesn't mean much. I wasn't looking for company that night to share my bed, but with a night of exuberant fun with tens and dozens of crowds, it felt weird being by myself. I blame the alcohol.
I guess after being so high, you're eventually bound to crash.
Canada won the World Cup of Hockey, a 3-2 win over Finland at the Air Canada Centre. Along with the Toronto International Film Festival, the celebrations last night made Toronto the most exciting city in the world. Traffic, high energy screaming fans, and honking cars packed Yonge Street in the wee hours of the morning. I was walking home sometime past 2am and the street party was still at full-blast. Things got out of hand.
*****
Film Festival Talk
* I was at the North American premiere of Calvaire (The Ordeal). I didn't know much about it when I got my ticket. In conversation with other festival-goers at the ticket holders' line, I was warned the movie was a wild gore-fest.
At the half hour point, I was falling asleep. I wanted to walk out as the pacing was slow, but the Director sat directly behind me. I didn't want to be rude. Also, I was wondering if the rumours were true. I was waiting for carnage. And then... it did get bloody! Still, in contrast, a far cry from The Passion of the Christ.
* The film I was eagerly anticipating to watch all week was Dylan Kidd's sophomore work: P.S. I admired his screenplay and direction in Roger Dodger. He showed such promise that I even placed his first film #2 on my top 10 films of 2002. P.S. is a good film, short of greatness. [photo1, photo 2]
* A film that I absolutely loved was Alexander Payne's Sideways. The entire cast was present at the public screening [photo1]. I really enjoyed his previous film About Schmidt with Jack Nicholson. According to Roger Ebert, "[Sideways] is the best guy movie of recent years, and a lot more than that."
* I can't quite say the same thing about Enduring Love from Notting Hill director Roger Michell. I didn't care for the book, I didn't care for the movie. What it has, however, is a very gripping opening scene involving a hot air balloon that has to be seen, and not described. It goes downhill from there, folks. At least the Q&A afterwards was funny.
* I saw other films like the off-beat Throw Down or ultra creepy Creep which will never get any distribution in North America. I also saw a western/horror/civil war period film called Dead Birds. Interesting combination, but still DOA.
Last night was a productive night as an unpaid & amateur film critic. I managed to see 3 films. I didn't get home until past 2am. Needless to say, I'm lacking sleep and I'm not very efficient today.
I will be writing more in-depth regarding the 2004 Toronto International Film Festival. But for now, here's photos taken on my skating route as mentioned on previous posts.
This past weekend was one of those weekends where I wished I was in three places at the same time. 12 hours of sleep in 3 days. The last time I had a full night's rest was Wednesday evening. So many things are happening and I want to be part of it all.
* My mom returned safely from her trip to the other side of the globe. We caught up on stories the other day over the phone. She went shopping for me so it'd be great to reunite with her in person but I'm a bit preoccupied with the...
* ...Toronto International Film Festival. Did a bit of star gazing, but mostly indulged in world cinema. I've seen three movies in four days. That's pretty bad. A friend who I ran into claims to have already seen 30 films. I don't know if that's possible, but I have no intentions of lining up for the press & industry screening, they're a very unforgiving crowd. Time permitting, I hope to see another 10 films by next Saturday. I would've seen more screenings, but it was such a beautiful weekend that I opted to...
* ...take out my blades to skate under the sun. I'm going to miss Summer. This was probably the last weekend of complete sun before the cool Autumn breeze walks in. I skated for hours with my buddy, Scuba. It was great exercise - I love sweating!
What can I say? Life is good. I can't complain. I'm having fun. And the most exciting part is knowing the best times in my life is still to come.
In the happy spirit of bachelorhood, I re-posted the fishbowls picture as per my earlier posts this week on choosing to remain single.
I thought the picture I posted was obvious, but I was greatly amused by some of the guesses. Essentially, it is a collection of phone numbers I received in the past two years. It started off as the GOOD versus the BAD glass. [Read about it here.]
But the pieces of papers kept on growing.
I also kept on running into a situation where I'm given a number which can not be classified into either GOOD or BAD camps. I needed a third category to file the miscellaneous. My friend Scuba suggested that I buy three actual fish bowls, and label them as they are labelled now: The Good, The Bad & The Ugly. Catchy, huh? (N.B.* Being part of "The Ugly" bowl has nothing to do with a "person's physicalities".)
So there. That's my explanation. How anticlimactic!
For my amusement, I did a count a few weeks ago. The pieces of paper totalled 66, breakdown being: 22-20-24. There should technically be more but no one writes down their numbers on paper anymore. I also found that guys are starting to prefer trading email addresses as oppose to phone numbers. Am I the only one who's noticed this?
Let's play a game. What's the story behind this picture? Here's a clue: it feeds my ego BIG time!
* I've educated myself on the photoblogging feature. Expect more pictures in the future. You can click on the above picture for a larger scale view.
* Also, I've been advised to take down the commenting feature. You have something to say to me? Send me an e-mail. I'd love to hear from ya. In the meantime, previous comments to this post are here.
On Monday afternoon, the goodbyes were swift, no dwelling, nothing prolonged. The chapter on C.C. is not closed. Back at my apartment, the most amazing thought bubble appeared atop my head:
"Oh my god, I don't want to be in a relationship!"
I was shocked at how relieved I was to find myself alone again. I didn't realize how valuable my independence has become to me. Happily, as if I just discovered the key to living life to the fullest, I made a pact: 'Why do I want to be in a relationship in the first place? It just spells out hassle. Most of the time, it's never worth the trouble!'
Two hours later while washing dishes and listening to Jill Scott, I was hit with a wall of silence. It was sudden and strong and it took form in the shape of restlessness (or loneliness - take your pick). I didn't feel invincibly independent anymore. I missed C.C.'s company.
Then, things started making sense.
I realized I want my cake and want to eat it too. I want to feel free, but also want a sense of permanency in a faithful somebody. I want another warm body to share my bed with, and but when things become inconvenient or too crowded for me, I want to be able to discard. I will now admit that I'm not so sure I'm ready to give up the luxuries of singledom. I guess I got used to being a solo act that anything clashing with my routine becomes choking or boxing.
When I meet guys at a bar, it never fails that I get asked why I'm single. And, my reply is "The right one has yet to come along..." It was an honest answer and I believed it. But really, it's only half true. I'm looking for the right one when all this time, I should also have been ensuring that I'm the right me... the me that is willing to sacrifice time and effort. I do want a meaningful relationship, someone to share my life with, and his with mine.
I thought I was ready for a relationship. For now, I want to have fun. As much as I like sex, I can't bring myself to have another one night stand with the next cute guy I meet. Dilemma dilemma.
My labour day weekend with my temporary American boyfriend C.C. was like a fairy tale. Temporary, but a fairy tale nonetheless.
We did everything: Saw Hairspray. Went to a baseball game. Long walk by the park, and then the lakeshore. Had some wonderful dinners. Drank wine, lit candles and all that romantic jazz. (I know what you're thinking. Yup, we did that too... in and out of the shower. Thank god for silicon-based lube.)
"I've never had this many showers in one day." says C.C. How many? Probably 12 showers in 3 days... maybe more. I wasn't counting.
I had an unbelievable time with C.C. It was wonderful waking up next to him on my bed. I feel refreshed. But there's a BUT...
Over the past two weeks, I've had some intense sexual dreams. I guess this just shows how much I'm anticipating the coming of C.C. I find myself saying different catch phrases every morning upon my wake:
"Man, I need to get nailed hard and deep!" "God, I can't wait to ram a tight hole." "All I want is some athletic fucking... I want to sweat!." "Can someone please stick their tongue up my bum? Urgh."
C.C. and I shared two passionate days together during Pride. The sex was amazing which consisted of 90% emotion. I find it fascinating that this is a huge contrast to my recent night dreams of raw animalistic sex which are devout of emotion. I've also been having mental pictures of cumming all over some guy's body throughout my day yesterday. It's almost ritualistic. Is this nature's way of telling me that I need to procreate and have babies?
Right now, I'm struggling to find balance between emotion and "horniness". For example, I can't wait to be in C.C.'s company. But also I can't wait to have my dick nicely tucked up in his ass, while we both fall asleep.
C.C. is set to arrive tonight. I'm looking at his visit as my opportunity to be in the company of someone real. I want to refresh my memory of what it's like. I've hungered for it.
Having said that, maybe I should give my "virgin act" a rest? Almost every guy I meet is interested in sex... which is normal because... we're guys. And while there are those who claim they're looking for a relationship, when finally faced with a prospect, they become scared finding unending reasons to run away. I'm in this guilty party too.
Last week, I went to a sex shop with a friend. I briefly contemplated getting one of those double-headed dildoes to share with C.C. I think it'll be hot. But I don't think that's the type of fun soft-spoken C.C. is open to. I don't foresee him to be sexually adventurous.
C.C.'s Visit : The Before
There are thoughts flooding my head other than sex with C.C. For instance, I wonder if our dynamic will change or if we'll simply pick up from where we left off last June. Our relationship was based on our Pride adventures, and that period has passed climax. Relationships based on high episodes of such tend not to last. As evidence, the many subsequent talks over the phone with C.C. primarily deal with simple above the surface stuff you'd converse with strangers, nothing spectacular or deep. And I'm afraid that this second time around, whatever relationship we have will be left at the door the moment he leaves my city.
*****
I thought it'd be neat to document my before and after feelings of C.C.'s visit. So there! I just expressed my present stance in writing. I didn't realize I'd be frank about the sex talk. But I guess this is partly the reason the Shower Room exists.
Come back Monday or Tuesday, and I'll tell you if this is a Harlequin romance/fairy tale or a Shakespearean tragedy.
Late Sunday night coming back from Niagara Falls, I got a call from my old roommate asking to hang out at a bar. I said sure. The most disgusting pickup line to date went something like this:
"Do you work out?" says Mystery Guy.
I reply with my modesty shield: "I do, but I haven't been as dedicated this summer." "Well, I bet your hands get worked out alot." Ew. I cringed. To make matters worse, he had to spell it out as if I didn't get 'it'.
"You...using your hands to.... masturbate..."
Remember C.C., my temporary American boyfriend I met during Pride? (You can read back on him by clicking here, there, here, there & everywhere)
C.C. is coming back! I am so excited! I've never looked forward to Labour Day with such excitement until now. Whoever said 'Labour Day Is A Dreaded Bell In The Schoolyard of the Mind' can kiss my ass.
*****
So Cool & So NOT Cool
I did some shopping over the weekend in Niagara Falls. I'm such a shopaholic. Lots of sales. I'm all about sales, ya know ...typical fag! I bought two new pairs of shoes. I feel so cool. Whoever said that "Material Possessions does not bring about happiness" can kiss my ass.
Well, for the time being, the shoes make me happy... I guess until they get dirty and become worn down.
I also bought a red Asian lantern to hang on the ceiling by my bed. It's exotic. It's ethnic, and I feel so cool. The instructions to screw the metal thingy into the red thingy drilling up to the ceiling look simple enough. But it's not!
Monday night, my neck was aching from trying to drill a hole into the ceiling. After an hour, I gave up and called my carpenter buddy. Apparently, I need a drill hammer which I don't have. My buddy is coming down to help me. In the meantime, since I've already made a mess on the wall, the Lantern is taped to the ceiling... which is so NOT cool.
*****
Money Grows & Multiplys in Dressers
Since Monday, I've slowly been cleaning my apartment in preparation for CC's long weekend visit. I finally got around to sorting out my black dresser filled with miscellaneous stuff I don't have the heart to throw away. (Hmmm... maybe I should mail them to super cutie Dan Renzi?)
Among the assortment of goodies like Cherry-flavoured lube and Ken Doll clothing, the majority of what I found was monetary in nature. I didn't realize I'm made of money:
* Found $200 US Dollars... Money left over from my San Francisco trip in May
* $50 dollar gift certificate at Roots * Credit note for $17.25 which I can use for any Kitchen Stuff Plus locations
* Nearly 10 dollars worth of coins (mostly nickels, dimes and pennies)
Whoever it was that said that "Money doesn't grow on trees" can... well... this is actually true. But kiss my ass anyways.
So like a little schoolgirl, I went to see John Mayer in early August when he was in town. Yes, I was there alongside 12 year old girls screaming my lungs off. "John, John - Marry me!"
I'm kidding ofcourse.
But I did get to see him live... 15 meters away! Personally, John isn't my type. But if given a chance, I'll sleep with him anyways. He's got one of the sexiest and most masculine voices I've heard in a long time. "John, my body is a wonderland!"
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