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After talking to D, a lawyer (my favorite) on Grindr, we set up a date before a birthday dinner I had to attend. At least, I thought we set up a date. I showed up to his Chelsea apartment wearing velvet pants and my best wool jacket; he answered the door in gym shorts. (We met at his apartment, in his words, to “decide where to go.” I should have known better.) I sat down,...
A month out of my last relationship, I still hadn’t had sex. I didn’t feel sad anymore, just a little empty. It takes a lot to readjust: going straight home after work every day, sleeping alone every night. I still sleep on one side of the bed, as if I’m waiting for someone to come in late and lay next to me, to kiss my head even though they think I’m asleep. (I don’t recommend...
Two weeks out from my most recent breakup, I went out for a work meeting at Mexicue, making sure my co-worker knew I had to be at dinner by 7. Three margaritas and two hours later, it was 8:00. I ran down to Art Bar, where my best friend Southern Belle C and his boyfriend were signing their check. “I’m so sorry I’m late,” I breathed, sliding into the booth next to him. “We already...
A few years ago, Google Guy messaged me on Grindr. His name is pretty self-explanatory: He worked at Google. I worked at a restaurant just two blocks from their headquarters on 8th Avenue, so the Grindr odds were in our favor. After his clothed torso sent me a face pic, I agreed to meet him for a drink at Merchants—which, currently, is a demolished pile of bricks. (It’s a sad thing to walk by every...
The first week post-breakup is always the hardest. I was sad. I didn’t miss him, I didn’t have any illusions that it worked, and I didn’t want to get back together. No, this was a different kind of sad: the knowledge that something I’d worked so hard on, something that I’d put all of my energy and effort and love into—for the past two years—was over. Like if I worked on a novel for two...
It’s 3 a.m., and I can’t sleep. So I write. Last night, I was late meeting my boyfriend. I’m usually late, but this was important. I rushed down 9th Avenue to Barrage. There he was, sitting in the corner booth, exactly where I would have picked. He knows me well. I haven’t written about him much. I don’t know that I will. I haven’t written about how we met, or when I asked him to...
The first month living with The Ex Fiance was, at best, strained. We fought about everything: what furniture to buy, where to place said furniture, what we were going to eat for dinner. He started staying later at work; I started going out with friends more. One day, I came home and saw him on Chatroulette – and, let’s be honest, we all know why people go on that site. He clicked out of it...
Last month, I went to a book release party for my friend Billy Merrell. His new book is called “Vanilla.” Through poetry, it tells the story of a gay high school couple going through the complications of sex, love and self-identity. I’ve read the book three times since that night, again and again, making sure I’ve read every single word, making sure every word has made its mark on me. Billy’s husband was at the...
A few months ago, I wrote about Butch Cordora, a Texas Hold ‘Em dealer from Philly who’s brought the game into the city. At the time, he ran one poker tournament in New York; now he has four, and I figured it was about time I went to see him in action. Last Saturday night, I showed up to Boxers HK fashionably late in a vintage wool coat, carrying my favorite sequin Prada wallet. The...
A few weeks ago, Southern Belle C invited me to the premiere of “Cruel Intentions: The Musical” at (Le) Poisson Rouge. “Cruel Intentions” is one of my most guilty pleasures; I said yes before he could tell me my response was time sensitive. We arrived early, both to get good seats and dinner. While waiting for our wine and spicy tator tots to arrive, I asked where his boyfriend was. “Busy at work,” he said,...