Cautionary Tales #2: That Foot-Fetish Guy

September 2008

What does one do, when he's been in a club, getting tipsy, and the cute enough guy that's been staring at him all night finally comes over, gives his spiel, and then asks: "Do you got some nice FEET?" Well, I took his number, laughed at the situation on my train-ride home, played text-tag with "Dr. Scholl" for a couple weeks, ended up at his place, and had a face-to-face encounter with a bottle of Anal Poppers.

Ok, let me explain. At the time, I was still trying to get over someone, bored, and wanted to prove to myself that I could move on...by fucking other people. Now, I know the whole "get over a guy by getting under/on top of a new one" formula is retarded. But, hey, I'm still learning. And, besides, Dr. Scholl was cute-in fact he was a local model/actor, so I was interested in seeing where this would lead.

Anyway, it was a boring mid-summer Sunday afternoon, the weather was perfect, and I wanted to get out of my apartment to do something or someone. So, I texted Dr. Scholl, and, before I knew it, we were making plains to hangout that evening at his posh downtown apartment.

After I had showered, freshened up, and put on some "smell goods", I made my way downtown, to Jewel, to pick up something to drink (his idea). As I was nearing his building I gave Dr. Scholl a ring to figure out exactly where to go. He directed me to his entrance, and I hopped on the
elevator to the 20th floor.

When I arrived at his apartment, I was amazed by how beautiful and large his place was. Even more amazing was the view, of downtown Chicago, from his balcony. He took the grocery bag I was holding, and motioned me to his living room couch. While I was busy soaking in the environment, and checking out the artwork on his walls, he had opened two of the drinks I had bought, and brought one over to me.

We sat, we chatted, we got comfortable, and then the weirdness started. While we were sitting next to each other, he asked if he could see my foot. I put my foot in Dr. Scholl's lap, he took off my shoe, and proceeded to examine my foot while massaging it at the same time. I didn't know what to think, say, or do. So, I took another swig from my Strawberry Smirnoff, and smiled.

After he got up close and personal with my feet, I was invited to watch TV, in his bedroom, drink and all. He stripped down, to his un-cute red undies, as soon as we got into his room, and I followed suite. He hopped in the bed, took a huge sniff of something from a small bottle, whipped out his huge disproportionate dick, and gave me that "You wanna suck?" look.

Now, during all of this, I took a second to look at the situation at hand. I realized that I wasn't all that attracted to Dr. Scholl. Even though he was cute, he was extremely boring and lack luster-a
quality that I absolutely hate in a man. I like to make out, and he didn't. Plus, his dick wasn't the least bit attractive-another quality I hate in a man. But, I was bored, he was there, and I was a little buzzed...so, why not?

I hopped in his bed, got in the sixty-nine position, and gave him a minor blowjob. In the midst of "blowing" Dr. Scholl, I stopped, looked him in the eye, and asked when he was going to reciprocate my oral favor. He told me that he was "ok", which also told me that it was time to put down the dick, and time to start negotiating. I hate having to negotiate sex, like a business transaction. It makes me feel like a "pro"-which doesn't bother me. But, in this day and age, negotiating is a must.

And so the negotiations began. We negotiated oral sex-which he didn't want to reciprocate, so I told him, flat out, that if I wasn't getting any he damn well wasn't going to get anymore mileage from my mouth. He then brought to the table the fact that he wanted to fuck me. We weakly negotiated THAT while he grabbed a Magnum and a bottle of Lube from his dresser.

• Sidebar: By the way, hearing a guy trying "sell", or "market", his sex is one of the funniest things in the world. Apparently, when a guy is trying to persuade you to give him some ass, he will use all of weak lines that he can think of to try to convince you. Its hilarious! I mean, I would never feel the need to persuade sex out of someone. Its tacky. And, I think that if someone has to beg, or convince, anyone into sex, it might be a sign that the sex in question shouldn't be happening in the first place. Either that, or some kind of cash exchange should be taking place.

Anyway, I figured "what the hell", and decided to let Dr. Scholl at least TRY to use his disproportionately big dick on me. He tried, he failed. He tried again, and failed. This is when he took that small sniffing bottle, from earlier, handed it to me, and told me to take a big sniff from it. I examined the bottle, and knew exactly what it was. I mean, I've taken enough trips to various Sex Shops in the Gayborhood, seen enough porn, and been around long enough to know what ANAL POPPERS are. But, up until this moment, I never found myself face-to-face with an open bottle. Nonetheless, I played "innocent", and asked Dr. Scoll what exactly it was that he had handed me. I knew damn well what it was, but, I was interested in what he'd tell me it was.

According to him, that little bottle was just a vaporized "muscle relaxant". I knew better, but, my curiosity took over, and I took a big sniff. I was surprised by how familiar the Poppers felt...Because it was the equivalent of sniffing a fucking PERMINET MARKER! I was expecting a lot more from something that sales for $5.99 a "pop".

In a semi popper-induced haze, I decided that there was no way I was going to be fucked by Dr.Scholl. I brought having a mutual-masturbation "session", he was half into it, and we proceed. And what happens? He's done in under three minutes, I'm left laying in his bed, still working away, while he gets dressed and tides his apartment. When I'm done, he tosses me a towel, I clean up, he walks me to the elevator, and I leave.

On my way home, I couldn't help but to think about what just happened. And, I realized...If I had to go through all of that, just to end up masturbating alone in bed, I could've just layed in my own damn bed and had a hassle-free "release".

What did I learn from this?

1. If it doesn't feel right?...It shouldn't be happening.

;-)

Cautionary Tales: #1 - The Chatline Is Not A "Hot" Line

September 2005

At this time, I was nineteen years old, and one month into my freshmen year. I was new to Chicago, and didn't really know much about the city yet to know where to go on a boring Friday night. I was in my dorm, and in the midst of my boredom, while laying in bed on my laptop, I pulled out my cell phone, and decided to call the local Homo Chatline. A number which I got off of some website.

When I called, I played around a little bit, listening to the voice recordings of various guys, some "thugs", giving their stats, what they were looking for, and whatever-the-fuck else they wanted to say. You see, this is where things got kind of interesting. I came across the voice recording of a cute-SOUNDING guy, who was bored, and only seeking conversation. I sent him a message, he sent one back, and, voila, we were in our own private "room" within the Chatline.

Sidebar: For the sake of conversation, lets call this guy "Dexter"....As in poindexter....Get IN!

We talked for all of 20 minutes, before exchanging numbers. I thought this guy sounded like such a prettyboy. And, that's exactly what he "gave" me through the phone. In the midst of our lengthily conversation, we agreed to meet-up and hangout the next day. I felt, given how our connection was made, that there was a 50/50 chance that this guy could be the next Hannibal Lecter. I wasn't about to be stupid, so, I chose a nice public area for our meeting. This place was Millenium Park, in downtown Chicago.

Throughout that Saturday, we texted here-and-there just to check-in with each other. Evening came, and it was time to meet. I called him to figure out how long it would be before we should make our way downtown. Since he was fairly close to our destination, I made my way to the train heading to The Loop.

When I finally reached downtown, I stopped at 7-Eleven to pick up some gum. I mean, I can't just meet some cute guy without making sure I'm "minty fresh" first. While downtown, I called Dexter(19) to ask where he was. He was not only in the area, he was on his way to our destination. I followed suit, and was on my way to Millinum Park to meet Dexter the prettyboy.

I got to the Park, called Dexter again, and he informed me of what he was wearing. I looked around, and, alas, I spotted a guy in the outfit that Dexter described. But, the guy in front of me wasn't the "prettyboy" I imagined him to be from the phone. This guy was chubby, wore coke-bottle glasses in semi-stylish frames, was kind of nasal when he talked in person, and was just all-around unattractive to me.

I immediately went into panic mode. What to do, what to do?? I didn't want to be rude, or, an asshole, and hurt this guys feelings. So, I decided to turn a lemon into a lemon martini, and figured that I'd just befriend Dexter. Good idea, right?

Anyway, determined to be strictly platonic, I continued walking around the park, chatting with Dexter, and trying not to notice how he was staring and drooling at me. It was kind of dark out, and, I could help but let my mind wonder to the fact of how romantic this little evening stroll would've been if I were with my "Mr. Right". Dexter was tired of walking around, so we sit on a nearby bench to take in the scenery. Not five seconds later, he was "schooching" closer to me, and putting his hand on my knee. The child was trying it!

Luckily, I noticed a few rabbits running around a bush across from us. I sprang up and made a comment about what I saw. He got up too, and stood close to me. While standing, and inch from my face, Dexter asked if he could KISS me. I froze for a moment, swallowed, took a breath, and uttered "Yeah...you can.". And, with that, the beast known as Dexter proceeded to maul a young Rocafella in the most sloppiest manner. Don't get me wrong, I absolutely love being mauled...by the RIGHT guy, in the RIGHT way. I mean, the boy didn't even know how kiss. And then, he had the balls to get all touchy-feely, and groped my ass.

Post lip-lock, Dexter stood grinning from ear-to-ear. While I stood there feeling somewhat like a "pro". Yes, I half expected him to pull a Ben Franklin out of his wallet, and hand it to me. We walked around for a few more minutes before I came up with an excuse for needing to cut our time short. We exchanged "goodbye's", and I told Dexter that I would call him when I got back to my dorm....But, I didn't.

What did I learn from this experience?

• Just because he has a cute phone-voice, doesn't always mean he's a
  cute guy.

• The Chatline is not the "hot" line (stay turned).

• Venues, like the Chatline, are purely for entertainment purposes.

;-)

On The Horizon...

Next month (mid-November) is going to be the One Year Anniversary of my Blog/Journal. Its amazing how fast time can go by.

At work, the other night, thinking randomly when an idea popped into my head. So, November will not only usher in the anniversary of my Blog, at will also be the introduction of a new category.

What is this new category called?...."Cautionary Tales".

What will "Cautionary Tales" consist of?....My hookup horror stories and other bad experiences when it come to dealing with the same sex . Yes, I have a few from the past (pre-celibacy) and a few from present day, so far. I've just been figuring out how and to write them.

Why exactly are these Cautionary Tales?.....Because, from each "tale", I've learned a valuable lesson, and, I'm hoping that others will too.

Are you ready?

;-)