My Trip Out

Gay married man coming out story

3 strikes you’re out

Friday night, Peter, his GF, mother and 18-year girl cousin invite me out to dinner. DuPont area, seafood, outdoors, couple of bottles of wine, I’m happy. Dinner ends and Peter announces we (meaning me and his GF) are going off for drinks at a gay bar. What???

So off we go to Halo, it’s 10 p.m. starting to get crowded. I march to the bar to fetch drinks. Coming back, Peter, who is quite attractive, is talking to 2 guys. His GF is in another corner with some other guy. I’m losing control of the situation. “Peter – WTF are you doing? Those boys are hitting on you.” Meanwhile his GF re-appears, “Come over here, this is a nice guy you should talk to him”. Please dear lord, let a bolt of lightning strike me now – but this story just gets worse.

Few minutes later, Conner (guy I’ve been seeing) wanders in. He’s with his best friend. Friday’s are their “go out” night. He comes over to say hello. I’m thinking “don’t leave me alone in this situation”. He wanders back off. I’m not comfortable with how this is all playing out.

Time to leave, I’m working on being totally trashed, walking outside, Eduardo’s twin brother is standing smoking a cigarette. I stop and chat about what he’s up to. I realize he’s quite different than his brother. I conclude that I hope I’m not driving his little brother crazy. He shrugs his shoulders, “I’ve given up trying to understand him”. He then tells me Eduardo is in the back of the bar. I feel my 2nd mistake of the evening is coming. Yes, I, of course, go back into the bar and find Eduardo, burst on to his scene and no, it doesn’t end well.

I gotta get out of here. I start the walk back to my place. It’s 11 p.m. I pass this guy. Do not ask my how, but in 5 seconds, I spotted all the attributes I look for. Mid-height, wavy black hair, brown eyes, latin culture, great body. He stops in the street, I stop, turn around, exchange words. The next thing I know, we’re walking BACK to Halo together. The dog is out.

Back in Halo, I get a drink, he doesn’t. He’s from Peru,my caution light is on, despite the alcohol, I’m triangulating information he’s providing, some doesn’t add up. He’s all over me, I kinda like it, it numbs the pain from the other things going on in my life. He wants to go to a dance bar. OK. How I make it the 7 blocks is beyond me.

Inside the dance club, he intros me to some of his friends, I speak with a nice girl friend of his, she’s intelligent, normal. I’m feeling more comfortable. Like any macho Latin guy, he’s in charge, he leads me around by the hand, I can be in that mode. Few minutes later, Eduardo and his band of pirates arrive as well, standing right next to us. My new friend is in paw mode, this is starting to be too much.

He wants to show me his apartment. “OMG – you have four walls and a floor, this is just great”. I’m undecided, but OK. Then I make my final mistake of the evening. I start asking questions. I’m not sure what it is about me, but I get to the core of people pretty fast, something is bothering this guy. Stupid me, I just keep questioning away.

Back in his apartment, I’ve singularly changed the entire mood. Turns out, he’s 43, tells most guys he’s 33 (and he can actually get away with it), well educated, he was married and has an 11 year old son, pretty wife, he’s not very comfortable being gay, not sure what a relationship with a guy looks like (welcome to the club), scared to death of HIV, has a entire list of things he won’t do sexually, has trouble meeting people and mainly has done one night stands, he f*cks them and sends them home. Well, he’s not f*cking me.

So I’m sitting on his sofa, he’s now got his photo album out showing me pictures of his family. I guess going to my nut job therapist has turned me into a therapist wannabe because despite my hazy view, I’m questioning, he’s talking away. He turns to me, “It’s late, you should go home, it was nice to meet you”.

It’s 3 a.m., I fall into the early morning air and manage my way homewards. I wish things were getting clearer to me, but they’re not, only more confusing.

2 Comments

  1. Great blog! I just added you to my blogroll at qlipp.com.
    Eric
    eric@qlipp.com

  2. Will, through your entire blog you kept admitting that you knew you were making “poor” choices. I guess the answer is to stop making them. Answers aren’t always easy though.

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