To date or not to date

Oh my God, do I have a story to tell.

It was a typical Monday at work: investigating stolen laptops, recovering lost work, and suffering personal embarrassment. But who knew that the evening had planned something that I would’ve never imagined. As I walked inside my apartment after work, I was pleasantly surprised to see that I had two voice messages. One from this Indian guy, Arvind, who tried to pick me up at McDonalds Saturday night, and the other from David. Ignoring the former, I decided to call David to see how he was doing. David is Adam’s (the guy in Charlottesville who went to school with me and who I despise) ex-boyfriend, who I had planned to catch up with on my arrival to DC. He is pretty cute and is currently a sophomore at American University (AU). David message said that he was in the Dupont area and was sitting drinking at Annie’s, a sketchy gay dinner for old trolls in the area. Somewhat surprised by the chosen venue, I called him back, planning to meet him for drinks, partly to alleviate myself from the macabre events of the day.

As I entered Annie’s, I saw David chatting with the bartender, this old loudmouth woman called CC or JJ. He did look cute though. Or I thought he did, at that time. After all this boy is twenty-one, which is a welcoming change from the older men I am friends with or have dated previously. His cheeks were somewhat swollen, which I later learned was due to a recent wisdom-teeth-removing procedure. They didn’t look that puffed up though and I would’ve never guessed that he had had surgery if he wouldn’t have told me himself.

We started chatting over drinks, discussing our infamous pasts, the lack of datable boys in Charlottesville and the incontinence of the ex-boyfriend, Adam. Apparently, David visited Adam last weekend and had made him cry after telling him how ugly he was. His lack of subtlety could also be due to his disgust at Adam for dating a butcher who works at the local Food Line. Meanwhile, I added my occasional two cents on the ghastly gay life at UVA while sipping on a Vodka-Tonic. Somewhere between his fifth cocktail and my feigned interest, David embarked on a bitter diatribe on the evils of the U.S. educational policy. I tried to debate his opinion and was pleasantly surprised (and somewhat appalled) by his passion to change the world. Then suddenly out of nowhere, like a warm day during cold DC winters, he asked me why I had ever let him date Adam. And before I could reply, he confessed that he had a crush on me since the first time he had seen me (quick flashback: the first time we had met was the summer last year when Adam, David and I were going to gay club called Nation in DC). He told me that he tried to flirt with me that night at Nation, but, blinded by the fidelity towards Adam and other hot gay boys, I had ignored his advances. But the best was yet to come. With utmost sincerity, David told me that the best thing he liked about me was my personality, which is why he had chosen to call me that night, as opposed to some other random twink at AU. According to him, I was different than the other fags he knew because not only was I attractive, but I was also very, “put-together”.

Honestly, I felt really flattered enmeshed in David’s admission of attraction to my personality. Sure people like me for my looks, but it’s the personality that I want them to like. In fact, I TRY to get people to like me for who I am. And I had just found someone who did. And I didn’t even have to try. I was just being myself, engaging in conversation with an acquaintance. Impressed with the virtuosity with which David expressed himself, I played hard to get, saying that there were a lot of things he didn’t know about me and that I, like all people, have a side which is not that attractive (the side that wakes up in the morning with messy hair and unbrushed teeth). But, unabashed, he replied that he wanted to get to know that side. Reciprocating, I said that I also wanted to get to know him better, which was true.

In the spirit of wanting to get to know each other better, David started begging me to go home and cuddle with him. And when I use the word begging, I’m not trying to flatter myself. I’m just trying to put words to his vehement passion for wanting to cuddle with me. Maybe it was the alcohol talking. Or maybe he was suffering from post-wisdom-teeth-removal surgery. Or perhaps he was just really lonely. I tried to decline his invitation, but he kept on insisting. In fact, he was really persistent and those sick puppy-dog eyes were making it worse. Realizing that my excuses were not working, I walked with him to my apartment, packed my toothbrush and office clothes, and rushed to catch the metro train that would take us to his apartment.

On reaching David’s apartment, I made small talk with his straight roommates, who were watching television while feasting on homemade pasta. They seemed really nice though and were fine with David’s sexuality. But would they be fine with him bringing a boy home, I wondered. Well, I was going to find out. I was pretty hungry myself since we had skipped dinner for drinks. But, because it was late, every food place in that part of town appeared to be closed. Defeated, I headed to his room, which he shared with one of his roommates. Feels like I’m back in college, I thought looking around, stuck in what sort of looks like a dorm-room. We closed the door to his bedroom, changed into our pajamas, and started making out.

Before you start judging me, let me say that the only things we did all night were kiss and cuddle. Being together in the same bed was, well, nice and somewhat comforting. It feels good to be next to someone who can ignore his erection and concentrate on the guy lying next to him. This is probably too much information, but I love it when someone falls asleep with my around circled around them. I guess watching a boy using my arm as a means of support affirms my manhood while giving me a complete sense of control. Which, if i dare to say, is sort of nice.

Anyway, we soon fell asleep amidst the warmth of the blankets and the faint intonations of David’s roommates. However, we did wake up in the middle of the night, on the call of our erections. Thankfully, we didn’t really do much, other than dry-hump. Soon, panting from my tiresome nocturnal upheaval, I rolled on my back to return to my blissful slumber.

I woke up around six-thirty and looked outside to see the morning sunrise through the bedroom window. I rubbed my eyes and rushed to the bathroom to brush my teeth and wear my contacts. Once I came back to the bedroom, David was waiting with a clean towel and a hot pot of coffee. Wow, this guy must really like me, I thought. I grabbed the towel and quickly shaved and showered so that I could catch the seven-thirty shuttle to the metro station. Once I finished, David was sweet enough to insist on accompanying me to the metro station. I, thankfully, accepted his offer since I didn’t want to be late for work, which was a very likely since I didn’t know my way around his neck of the woods. And deep down inside I kept on telling myself that the only reason he was wanted to accompany me was because he wanted to experience thirty degrees of DC winters and not because he had a crush on me, or worse wanted to be boyfriends.

I don’t know what I’m going to do. David is a really nice guy, and there is no reason why I shouldn’t continue to date him. But something tells me that it’s not right. He’s not THE one. I don’t know what the problem is. And it’s really hard for me to explain it. I mean he’s really nice, but he’s TOO nice. Maybe that’s the problem. And he’s also somewhat immature. After al, he is a sophomore in college and I’m already working and sort of onmy way to being completely independant. He’s definitely smarter than my ex but not by a lot. Sure he can debate and seems really passionate about his interests but neither he not his arguments don't seem to be…well...put together.

Oh, and did I mention that he’s also on some antidepressant. That’s a definite no no when it comes to dating, don’t you think? BTW, while we’re at it, what’s up with all these gay guys on antidepressants? It’s such a cop out, I think, trying to find happiness through medication. Anyway, David’s on some antidepressant which is not very unattractive. And speaking of unattractive, I wasn’t very stimulated by his looks this morning, when he was wearing a baseball cap (to cover his messy hair), dorky spectacles, an AU sweatshirt and checkered pajamas.

Plus, he has roommates. I mean if I continue to sleep at his place, what are they going to think of me? That I sleep around? That David and I are boyfriends? I just think that I can’t cross the line again, or until I am ready to make a commitment to this boy. And I can’t commit to him until I know he’s the one. But I won’t know if he’s the one until I get to see him more often, which means going on more dates and sleeping together some more. What a vicious cycle. God.

Again, I don't know why I do this to myself. I meet someone who would be awesome to date but I'm feeling iffy about it only 'cause I have issues. And then I spend the rest of the year brooding over why I don't have a fucking boyfriend. Jeez. I HAVE ISSUES.

Or, maybe I'm just looking for someone who is perfect. Someone who likes me for my looks and personality. Someone who will blow me away the first night after we sleep together. Someone who is, well, adequate *grin*.