Weeks ago, I’d briefly met these two Columbia guys at Astoria in London. I was a little taken with the younger one (again, no comment from those of you in the cheap seats) but the older one (probably mid-30’s), a little rounder, older, thinning hair was unfortunately taken with me. I’d given him my phone numbers.
Carlos is from Bogota, but has lived between Madrid and London for the last 15 years. Well, he starts texting me. Little notes. “Nice to have met”, bla bla like that. I always reply, I’m nice too. I give him my email and he writes these very sweet sensitive notes about himself. The emails go on to include photographs of himself (clean ones).
He seems like a nice ordinary guy. Not into the club scene. He’s expressed that he tired of the whole gay dating culture and just doesn’t. But, he’s taken by me for some reason. I haven’t told him my story, will do that in person, but honestly, he hasn’t cranked my gyro, he’s just nice. Those dreaded words.
So New Year’s Eve, I send him a short “Happy” text from my US mobile. Ten minutes later he’s calling me. We talk for a couple of minutes. But I’m not feeling the energy. I’ve agreed to meet for drink in London.
Carlos is thoughtful, he’s a nice guy, he’s trying. I wonder if I’ve left that impression on people before (obviously haven’t seen my darker side). But what if there’s no energy. Not even warmth. Then what do you do?
I didn’t bother to send TC shit, he’s sent me exactly 1 text message ever and couldn’t be bothered to send any type of greeting for Christmas or New Year’s. I’m doing all the work. I can’t tell him this, but it’s obviously a telling sign. And there you were thinking I wasn’t too smart.