Location: Berlin. Display Name: I should delete this app. Edit Profile. About Me: Could you ask me before you send me photos of your dicks. Thank you. Looking for: A conversation that does not go like “Hi”,“Hi”, “Horny?” for a change (?). Ok whatever I’m deleting this. Relationship Status: Single.
I did it. I’m off the Grind. I’m out in the real world and ready to get to it. So, just be confident, out-going and it’ll get so easy from here. Who am I fooling? The world is there to complicate things. So, once more, scene entrance: Berlin, this major side character, wanting to add some drama to the narrative. Berlin might lure thousands of suitable gay candidates into town. But, it’s also that catalyst making half of the male population pretty metrosexual. What’s the story’s premise: All men seem so pretty damn gay! Everyone is either ‘Berlin-Straight’, with an abnormal sense for fashion, ‘bi-curious’, and actually more curious than really bi, or ‘hetero-flexible’, which is an absurdity of a name anyways. Hooking up with a straight dude – mmh mmh that fantasy. But, mostly that fantasy only gets real juicy once, … or really not at all, ever.
WHY THE FUCK AM I SINGLE? Lesson #3
Group Chat, Casper & Juan. Message from Casper: “OMG, I had sex with a dude who has never slept with men!!!” Followed by over-excitement on Juan’s side, the attraction of the seemingly impossible, that forbidden fruit, it’s like you finally get access to that playground, you see every day, that’s closed all year long. I mean, I get it! Still, I stayed mostly unbothered, which also did not do justice to the pretty steamy story I got told. As it seems, living in Berlin has made me impromptu react with an ‘Eyeroll’ when I hear ‘bi-curious’, mostly because of situations as …
Sunday 6 o’clock – That place that’s open all Sunday – Friedrichshain.
I dance around one very, handsome specimen, and I’ve been doing that for over an hour now. Some eye contact here, some smirking there… Meanwhile, another friend jumps up and down in front of me like a rabbit: “Talking to a dude, he says he’s straight but he might experiment with me!” Good luck, pal! I’m on the safe side though: Tight Jeans, mesh top, earring, Nike sports cap worn backwards, … I got this. 8 hours later that very same dude sits at the bar, flirting with a girlfriend of mine. And I am like, what? So, after taking her aside, asking for clarifications: Yes, straight! That man is very straight. Jeans that look like they’re from the women’s section (?), mesh top, plus sporty gay fashion accessories (?)!
Uhm… Ok, straight guys, have a seat: All these things are used as GAY INDICATORS. We’re outnumbered anyways, we need them to find our peepz, to finally get some action, get down to business, you know. Now, what do we gotta do, run around in pink flamingo outfits to really make things clear?! Anyways, ‘earring-sport-cap-tight-jeans’ likes titties, and just smiled because he is… a nice person seemingly?… Now he’s hot AND nice. Great! Lately, that metrosexual absurdity has hit new territory when an Israeli dream man did almost not approach me because he thought I’m straight… I was wearing a dress… !!!
I mean, the excitement of getting with a ‘straight’ dude is for real! But, I have these friends who kinda make it their thing… And, I am just like, why do I wanna spend my time with someone who doesn’t really want to scream out loud: I want cock! The man I want by my side whether in bed or life should be like: I AM SO GAY! Choke on it! (Don’t get that literal now!)
Yet, you can’t stay in the territory of ‘bi-curious’, ‘hetero-flexible’, ‘straight-but-not-so-straight’, ‘My-girlfriend-was-a-bitch-and-I-wanna-do something-outrageous’ boys forever. You can try as hard as you want, they will go back to vaginas in 98% of these scenarios. Don’t think you’re gonna tell the story of “How you turned Justin into an eligible gay man” over pastries and wine at Christmas dinner. Nah! Like that’s gonna happen!
However, what am I actually whining about here? Primitive masculinity in v-necks and pilot sunglasses being partially taken over by men with some actual style? A world, in which any man is free to explore his sexuality, and even if it’s just these three hours on the dance floor? And, I’m gonna stop them just for my own convenience!? I know, I know, I have the weaker arguments. But like, Berlin’s complicated enough! Can we just wear name tags? “Hi, I’m Greg, bi-curious, and my spirit animal is a rabbit” – Says it all!
Essentially, it’s another lesson in being upfront and voicing what you want.
I could just TALK to that hot Dutch dude instead of dancing around him for 2 hours like a creep, staring at his tiny, tiny shorts, ’til he (adorably laughing) is like: “No Dude, I’m pretty straight!” – pats me on the shoulder (Seriously, he patted me!).
That could have been 10 minutes instead of 120.
Casper and Juan can keep on venturing on their ‘bi-curious’ adventures.
Meanwhile, I’m gonna make myself a name tag.