24 October 2011

Take it Off/All

About 8 years ago, when I realized I wanted to start saving up for bigger and better things - no, not a new dildo - I moved in with the Power Gay. The only catch was I would have to move into a single room.

The place, as previously described, was a brownstone of which we had two of the four floors, but in that space, I wanted to start over. He had his belongings furnishing the apartment making it a comfy dwelling so I crammed what I could into my living quarters and got rid of the rest. How was a young gay man to do that? That's right: Craigslist.

I started to take photos of my wares - furniture - and post them up on craigslist with extremely low prices. Most of the furniture was from IKEA, matched and were in great condition considering I had everything for at least one year. I advertised my couch that converted into a bed, end tables, coffee table, lamps, rug, tv console, dishes, wall hangings, anything that would get me some cash back. I got a few bites, but nothing that came through - not unlike hook-up flakes. Until David came along.

A couple years younger than me, David was energetic, terribly cute, but above all, interested in purchasing my furniture. He must have emailed me and came over about four times before I was totally sold out. The first time he showed up with his "friend," a woman about ten years his senior. The second and third time, he showed up alone, and the final time he showed up with his father. That final time not thinking he had any interest, I joked about how he could have saved so much time if he would have just purchased everything from the get-go. His response? "How else would I have been able to see you?" WHAT?! Normally, this would have been creepy, but because a 20-something was saying it, made it quite flattering at the time.

I asked him out on a proper date, offering to go see him at his new place since he's been trekking to see me the past week.

Admittedly, it was a tad surreal to see my furniture rearranged in another apartment, more humorous was the thought of them being used for what they meant normally are for. He was still getting ready and I was left to think about the other uses I employed of the furniture of which he was not aware: "this is the couch I got fucked on doggy; this is the end table with the same lube stain made a week after I bought it; this is the rug I had that threesome on;" etc. Good thing he didn't take the bed. Oh, memory lane.

When he was ready to leave, we went to the neighborhood park so we could talk and find out more about each other; I mean, all I knew at that point was that he liked used IKEA furniture. But the date didn't really get me anywhere. He was pretty ambiguous and awfully secretive about a lot of things: his age, his current job situation, his last name. I did manage to get he was an actor, waiting tables at The Cheesecake Factory. Pretty normal, I suppose. So, where did this go wrong?

Well, after a few dates, a standard make-out session turned into clothes being ripped off and nakedness being shared. Alarming as this will sound, I didn't give it up. Suprising, I know, but I was on antibiotics for a recent deviated septum surgery. The antibiotics had a "soft-serve ice-cream from Dairy Queen" effect and I didn't want to risk a messy situation by playing a little pokey pokey. I shyed away from his advances and called it a night. And that was the last I heard from him. No phone call, no "you should have put out, Prudence McPrude," no nothing.

Point of the conversation: For some, the cookie is the prize. For me, fudge covered cookies aren't worth the win or the embarrassment.

- DeeCue

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