Friday, May 2, 2008


Meeting guys in gay bars while intoxicated is always a dicey proposition; while I've been lucky thus far in that I haven't met/kissed/made out/had sex with anyone that I really regret (well, except this fucking asshole) I have usually had the benefit of a friend in which to vet the guys I met, and so far it's been "thumbs up".

However, on Sunday Night I was at a particular Boystown establishment, this guy struck up a conversation with me.

The friend I met at the bar was off somewhere talking to some guy and I was enjoying a drink (one that I did not need at that point) and watching a few geeked out homos gyrate on the dance floor.

The guy standing next to me starting talking to me and the first thing I thought was, DAMN, this boy is fine. The second thing that struck me was his accent whose origin I couldn't trace. Russian? Italian? Latino? Mind you, I'm not so good at pinpointing such things, but it was also loud as hell.

Anyways, we talk and talk (and I ask and ask him to repeat himself) and I tip back yet another drink. Finally, I realized it was way past my bed time and decided to leave, as did he and since he lived nearby I offered to walk him home.

Once I got him out in the streetlight I thought once again, DAMN, this boy is fine! He kind of (and I stress kind of) looks like a smaller version of LA Dodger Nomar Garciaparra. When he arrive at his place we exchange phone numbers and at that point I realize I forgot his name (fuck) so I labeled his # as "Hot Guy". Then we made out.

Really, I was expecting him to be like so many other gay guys you meet in bars who seem cool but ultimately turn out to be flakes. But on my ride home from work on Monday the iPone goes ring-ring and up pops "Hot Guy" on the display. Word!

He said he wanted to see me again and I told him where to find me, but alas he never showed. I figured this would be the end of this potential relationship, but lo and behold he texts me on my lunch break on Tuesday asking me what I am doing later that night.

Now, I must admit that his text messages totally confused me. Example:

Him: "Holo"
Me: "Hey man, what's up?"
Him: "A hospero work"
Me: "What are you doing around 9PM?"
Him: "A Homo you Goot A bar"

[I have since realized that he seems to text phonetically...if you read those sentence fragments aloud it sounds like how he talks, Dayum!, his accent turns me on]

Since the texting made little to no sense I called him when I got home and we made plans to meet up where we first met on Sunday Night. I got there before he did and with every passing minute I got more and more nervous. Would I recognize him? Would I recoil in horror? Would he recognize me? Would HE recoil in horror?

Finally, after 20 minutes of this thought process I look over and notice a hot guy with spikey jet black hair, olive skin and a nice ass. It was him. We locked eyes, he did the head nod and soon after we embraced. WOOT!

That night we watched the highly entertaining Drag Queen show, got to know one another more and the as time t I the "holy shit why is he talking to me" thing faded and I felt really comfortable around him.

Although I there were a lot of things he said that I didn't quite get (lots of "oh really" on my behalf - again it was really loud in there) I stole furtive glances at subtle things like how the muscles in his neck looked when we turned his head, or how when he laughed he would drag his tongue stud against his lower lip.

That night I drove him home and parked in front of his place that he sometimes shares with his gay father (sound familiar?) which is a gorgeous vintage gray stone apartment building overlooking Lake Michigan.

We talked for close to a 1/2 hour, then made out for almost as long. Mmmmmm, I love kissing boys in parked cars, especially mine! Eventually he left,, which is a good idea seeing as he had to report for work at 3AM.

Who works such insane hours? People that work at hospitals. He had gone into great (and for me far too) detailed explanation about the process of birth. Here I'm thinking he's a nurse or maybe even a resident.

But then we met up again the next night and after he introduced me to his friend that works at the same hospital I realized this was not the case. Said friend asked me "oh, are you a doctor too?". Holy shit, he's a fucking doctor!

If you cannot tell, my head is spun around this guy. I'm about to meet him again tonight and I can't wait to kiss that hot studded tongue again. Or feel his sleek body. Or have him evoke my name breathlessly. Or smell his cologne...OK, I'll stop now!

But before I do, let's get an update on my hair...which just got cut about an hour ago (gotta look sharp for this guy!).

Although I choose option #1 (no big surprise there) but when I sat down in the barber chair today, my trusty Syrian barber asked "#2 blade all over?" and I said "no, let's go shorter, how about a #1 3/4 blade?" but he insisted on using the #1 1/2 blade.

My hair has never been this short. Any shorter and it would be gone, but I really like how it looks and my barber enthusiastically agreed saying "is good blade, nice length for you" while rubbing my head a bit longer than necessary. That's a good sign, right?


JP Mac said...

I cant wait to hear about him more. and see the iPhone pic!

Cooper said...

yay, glad you went with the short do.

good luck with dr. hot.

jshane said...

i can't wait for him to ask you to put your feet in some stirrups, and say "don't worry i'm a doctor."

Silly Billy said...

I love the fact I got a play by play of this. You rock my friend.

Chicago's Bi Guy said...

Wow you mean that guy is actually a doctor. I might have to be more friendly with him and his friends the next time we go out. Speaking of that what happened to you two. When I went back to the section you were sitting at you were gone.. I ended up going out to the other bars and not getting home until 4am and back up at 7 for work.

K said...

Yea for bagging a hot doctor who IS NOT A FLAKE!

Hold onto this one!