Cynical And Southern: I’ll Never Sext Again!
Jay stood against a railing. Dim yellow light surrounded him and even from across the bar his toothy smile got to me. I’d forgotten about him. We hadn’t crossed paths in years. I’d originally written him off as young and needing to go through things I didn’t want to go through again. I always found him effervescent. I never thought of him as an option.
Something about that yellow light made me take notice. His body language is vibrant and so is everything else about him. If solar power doesn’t replace electricity his aura just might. Enraptured by his glow I set out to find his name again. At least.
I created an Adam4Adam account. Partly to research for an article I wanted to write. Mostly to find Jay. Enduring the sea of shirtless douchebags was painful and tedious. Per usual I found myself irate and fiery over the stupidity of most profiles. But I found Jay. And it was worth it.
We began corresponding. With his Facebook friendship and cell phone number in tow I segued once again out of Adam4Adam hell.
The more we exchanged lengthy and personal emails the more I realize that I underestimated Jay. Beneath his fashionista garb and flashy public persona lies a sharply introspective introvert. The depth of his understanding made him glow a lot more than that 2 am club spotlight could have.
Color me impressed.
Emails eventually graduated to text messages. And then vulnerable and intellectual exchanges graduated to sexy talk. My exhibitionist tendencies got the best of me. I wanted him to see me naked nearly as badly as I wanted him to tell me his entire life story. Seldom do I find gay men whose minds are as appealing to me as their cocks. Jay piqued the interest of my head and my head.
Damned if I didn’t get reintroduced to a couple other old friends of mine. It was not with open arms that I was reintroduced to Mr. Longing and Mr. Vulnerabity. I found myself texting Jay almost daily. He always wrote back. He never text me first. I have yet to master the fine line between persistent and pathetic. An art I have yet to master. Near the early stages of my texting with Jay I believe I was cutely persistent. Later when he didn’t respond to my third invitation to hang out yet I still asked him a forth time…a simply pathetic Jeremy.
As time passed our sexting increased. With one hand on my cell phone and my other hand elsewhere I easily transmitted some photos and videos. The yellow light on Jay that first night had been so pretty…as had the vulnerability of his early emails that signaled a brightness of mind. I was crushing. There, I said it.
Our final sexting marathon lasted four hours. The conversation was deliciously graphic. He sent me photos. He was every bit as sexy (and sensual…oh so sensual) as I imagined. My hands wandered but my mind wandered much farther. First to a place between his legs. And then to a place where his head rested in my arms as the sun came up.
I may have told him how badly I wanted to come over. I may have told him in precise detail the hungry things I wanted to do to his body. I may have sent him a cumshot video where I called his name. I was wildly out of control but enamored with my own lack of restraint. Sometimes in life you have just gotta free fall. Or in this case free ball. Fuck it man. If anyone was worthy of my most pornographic moment I figured it was Jay.
The climax of our conversation wasn’t an orgasm. It was not a late night secret tryst at his place or mine. It was not even a warm fuzzy. It was with a full second erection that I received Jay’s text message: “hey I just want to make sure that we’re just joking about all this. Sometimes I get the feeling you are taking this seriously”.
Four hours earlier I was sitting on my bedroom eating sweet and sour chicken and listening to the Homoground podcast. And then I sent the first text. Fuck.
My response to Jay was “of course I don’t like you ‘for real’ – Gay men never really like each other!” I was lying. Yes I liked him. More than a little but less than a lot. Enough to feel a tad bummed.
And so I found myself in the perfect 21st century moment. It’s so much easier to show jizz than to reveal a disappointment. With the hairline of a sixty year old and the heart of a child I stuck my phone on its charger and crawled to bed with my tail between my legs…and nothing else. I never told any of my friends about any of this. I promised him I wouldn’t.
Jay didn’t play me. Jay didn’t use me. Jay was bored and he hopped a ride on the adventure that I willingly laid out for him. There was no ill intention. It’s all fun and games. Remember that Jeremy. It’s just all fun and games. And then you’ll never get hurt.
After that night Jay and I text a couple more times. Sexual texts weren’t met with any eagerness. That ship sailed. Eventually I stopped texting Jay altogether. In the case that he was just politely responded to my texts I wanted to wait and see if he ever text me first. He didn’t.
Tonight I went to a club. It was the same club that I saw Jay at months ago, bathed in magical yellow light. He wasn’t there but I thought about him on the way home.
Next boy I’ll know better.
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