This post was submitted by TNG reader Johnny Mac.

This is a tale of triumph. Perhaps it’s a tale of petty triumph, but definitely a tale of triumph to some degree.

Some weeks ago, I wrote a post about my life as a closeted gay boy and how I was generally a happy and fulfilled person. While I stand by what I wrote in that post, of course my life was not all bong rips, $4 pitchers of beer, and laughs. There were times that I felt frustrated by my self-imposed inability to pursue cute boys when one crossed my path. One boy in particular (let’s call him Matthew) was one of the absolutely most beautiful boys I had ever seen with my own eyes. I don’t want to exaggerate how attractive he was, and maybe he was just my type, but holy crap, he was hot as far as I was concerned. I was working as a dorm security guard at my old dorm, a job that I had forgotten I had until I just wrote that sentence. That sounds like it’s a really important job, but basically it just meant that I had to check IDs and sign in guests while playing cards with a friend while stoned. I knew a lot of the people who lived there because I had lived there for three years, so it was a pretty sweet gig.

I was 21 at the time, in my senior year of college. The boy in question, Matthew, was a freshman. He had all of these piercings in his ears, reddish brown hair, perfectly kissable lips, about my height, and what appeared to be a nice patch of chest hair poking out of the top of his shirt. Swoon… I spent those 4-hour shifts playing cards, chatting with friends, and praying that he would have to go the bathroom frequently so that he would walk by my desk as often as possible. Soon enough, I graduated college, came out to my friends and family, and moved to the DC area to pursue grad school. I never spoke a word to Matthew beyond “thank you” when he would hand me his ID card at the front desk of his dorm.

A year and a half later, I had finished my first year of grad school and was taking some summer statistics classes at the University of Michigan in Ann Arbor. It was summertime, I knew very few people in Ann Arbor, and I was feeling more and more comfortable within my own queer skin. This was 2005 and Ann Arbor had this great little gay bar called Aut Bar where I went a few times and made some friends. I was getting more and more confident talking to boys and it was a nice experience. Being that this was 2005, the rest of the world and I were also on Myspace. It was while sitting on my couch in Ann Arbor, cycling through the profiles of friends of friends, that I saw Matthew’s profile. We were sort of acquainted by a few degrees of separation and I decided that I was a few hundred miles away. So why the hell not make a move?

I messaged him and told him that I used to work security at his dorm and I thought he was drop dead gorgeous. I think I used those exact words, actually. Drop. Dead. Gorgeous. I sent my message off to him, feeling a little creepy and stalkerish, but also feeling as if I had exorcised some closeted demons by making the move that I had previously been too repressed and chickenshit to make. It felt good.

Lo and behold, he wrote back to me and had remembered me working at his dorm. More importantly, his friend was getting married in a couple of weeks and he wondered if I could make it to New Jersey then because he needed a date. Here I thought it was a little weird to send a random Myspace message to some guy I didn’t really know, and he was inviting some guy he didn’t really know to a wedding. We decided to communicate via AIM (awww, another old relic of online communication circa 2005) for at least a week before I would agree to go to the wedding. We bonded over our mutual love of Belle and Sebastian and the Velvet Underground. I moved back East, dry cleaned my suit, and drove to New Jersey where I would be going on a first date with the most beautiful boy in the world… at a wedding! I burned a bunch of albums that I thought he would like and gave them to him when I arrived at his place (a different dorm at my old college). I think this charmed him. You might say it charmed the pants off of him.

We went to wedding and had a really great time. I caught one of things that they throw at weddings. Some sort of circular piece of cloth that women wear up their leg? Never quite got that. Anyway, I was drinking a white Russian by the bar when the groom, Matthew’s good friend, approached and commented on my drink selection. I mentioned that the only reason I drink white Russians is because I love Big Lebowski. He turned to Matthew and said, “You’ve got to fuck this guy tonight.” Score! I’ll let your imaginations take over with the next part of the story.

After the wedding night was over, we kept in touch sporadically on AIM and Myspace, but he lived in New Jersey and I lived down here, so our communication didn’t last very long. Soon enough, we lost touch and I canceled my Myspace account sometime in late 2007. However, this is not where the story ends. Just today, I was on Facebook and Matthew’s profile popped up in the “People You May Know” feature. I sent him a friend request and tried to say something charming. He wrote back, and I wrote back again, making sure to tell him how good he looks in his pictures. Somehow, I think he’s gotten even hotter than I remembered.

I think I’d like to see if lightning will strike twice with this one. Anybody have a wedding they can invite me to? Plus one guest, please.