Chapter 2: Dating Five Guys-2
709 Words
On March 7, I read the second name on Miller’s bachelor’s list. I called Ray Fortunes for a date. Ray ended up being twice my age, into fast cars more than young men, and felt he had to be in bed by eight-thirty.
On March 8, I dated Nelson Brew, an African-American man with beautiful chocolate skin, a massive build, and a bad temper.
The football player admitted to me, “I’m seeing a shrink for my anger management issues. I don’t know if he’s really working out or not, since I want to plow someone’s face in with my fists.”
Enough said. I ended our date. I would never be in his company again, with or without someone to protect me.
On March 9, I agreed to meet Greg Snakkton for breakfast at the Steel Hotel, a posh place in downtown Pittsburgh, next to Market Square. The first thing I noticed about the jockish ginger was the gold band on his left hand.
“You’re married.”
He winked at me and cut right to the chase. “We’ve agreed to f**k around on each other. We have an open relationship. Sometimes, we bring a date home for threesomes. You’ll be up for that, right?”
I was not up for that and told him so, ditching him on sight, wanting something more serious in a man, and less dangerous.
The fourth man on Miller’s list looked exactly like Tom Brady: tall, dark, and handsome. Dillan Chiar told me he couldn’t throw a football if his life depended on it. I didn’t mind exactly what his athletic ability entailed. What I did mind on our date: Dillan following me into the bathroom at the Four-Theatres Arts Complex, stepping up behind me while I took a piss, and doing a reach-around on my middle while whispering in my left ear.
“I want to jack you off right here. What do you say?”
I told him, “I’d like to get to know you better before that happens.”
He laughed and replied with, “I have a c**k and some d**k-juice to squirt into your asshole. What else is there to get to know?”
I left him in the bathroom, vanishing from our date, hoping never to see him again.
The fifth guy, Rex Duggan, never showed for our laser tag date.
He texted me, Sick as hell. Can’t make it. Maybe we can do it another time.
No. Not quite. Miller’s list turned out to be a nightmare, which I returned to him the following day during a solo lunch at The Rudder.
“Don’t ever try to set me up with guys again.”
He served me a Caesar salad, leaned close, and chuckled. “Did Dillan try to jack you off? He’s very good at that. Bathrooms turn him on.”
I rolled my eyes, cozy with two dry martinis from the bar and enjoying my singlehood, no longer wanting to date.
He laughed. “Now that you have seen the creeps of the world, you can go out with me.”
Had I a mouthful of cocktail, I would have spit it out. “I’m not going on a date with you, Miller. I’ve already tried to make it clear to you that you’re not my type.”
He continued to laugh, which told me he purposely set me up with douchebags just so he could look good as a better man and husband material. The plan didn’t work, though. Too bad for him. I couldn’t, and wouldn’t, go on a date with him. Shame on him regarding his five-guy plan.
I wanted him to apologize to me, but didn’t.
Rather, he said, “I’ll try harder to get your attention.”
Don’t bother, I thought, ending another lunch at The Rudder.
* * * *
That night, I dreamed of being on a reality dating show. Five men in Speedos became my dates. I got to spend a night in the sack with one of them. Per the show’s rules, I had to pick two men from the group of five I felt comfortable with and had an attraction for.
One of the men turned out to be Dillan. The second man ended up being Miller from The Rudder. In the end, I chose both men for a night’s pleasure, which wasn’t against the show’s rules.
In the morning, when I woke up from the dream, my ass hurt. I didn’t exactly know why. How strange.
Confession: I spent twenty extra minutes in bed and jacked off that morning. A white and sticky mess covered my abs when I shot my load, and my chest rose and fell.
- Writer
