Blame Game

A lot happened this weekend and by a lot I mean a whole lot of nothing. Which was fine of course because last week was extremely draining at work and I was worried about losing a bet about the Superbowl contenders (which turned out in my favor).

One thing that did happen other than my usual lounging about and hitting the gym was another chapter in the book of hopefuls closed. Just as history repeats itself, this chapter was closed not by me, but the hopeful himself.

I'll call him "JC", because he's good like that (no pun intended...seriously).

Anyway we met in September of last year and things kicked off with an awkward start. First we met in church and then subsequently went to brunch where I told him a fraction of my whoring background and it bleeeeeww him away.

So after that I figured, "hey...another one bites the dust. Guess I kept it too real (Plies voice)."

But I was wrong.

He hit me back and we started hanging out and having pretty deep conversations about ourselves to get to know one another.

The entire time I was interested in getting to know him better, but we kept circling back to that place I'm just not comfortable going; a relationship.

Now before you jump to conclusions: NO, I'm not afraid of commitment. NO, he's not unattractive. and NO, I wasn't more interested in fucking everything walking.

However, I got the feeling that he may have thought all of those things despite me telling him otherwise.

Maybe it was me telling him I got blowjob immediately before the second time we hung out, but hey...I was just being honest.

He also NEVER let me live that down.

Even after explaining that because of me turning sex into a habit I had NO CONNECTION to people that I fucked, he somehow refused to accept it.

When my words, and even my actions of not having sex and being open, failed me, I tried one final thing to make it clear.

The last time we met up, we talked for hours at a sushi bar about where I moving in my life, and I made a diagram on the table using a chopstick paper and a chewed a straw to show him where I was.

I used the two to make a "T" and on the 180 degree side of it was "relationships" and the opposite side that formed two 90 degree angles and the intersection of the "T" were sex and friends.  I was just trying to show that sex and friends mingled on one side of the line and the relationship area remained uncharted.

However, if I had it my way, I'd move from friends first to a relationship. I even used the term "organically" for how I wanted a relationship to form, but even that was met with opposition.

It all crashed and burned on Saturday when I asked to reschedule us going to Sunday. I had been over my dad's house and was helping out around the house when I fell asleep. After we didn't choose an activity and it was cold, I just suggested the next day.

Then...all hell broke loose. He told me he was done being "treated like a second rate friend" and that I didn't care about his emotions. I tried to brush that off, because in my eyes it was dramatic, but he was dead. ass.

Told me that he was "moving forward" with someone serious and before saying he was "signing off and best in life" he said "I bet if I was one of your encounters you would've made time".

Well folks...that pissed. me. off.

After opening up to you about my past, my blog and my tribulations you throw that in my face?

I was a little tipsy off the wine by the fireplace, but I had to let that go up in flames.  I was trying to hold onto a friendship that had a foundation of potential relationship and that wasn't smart. It was like the bundle of burning wood in my fireplace, just a placeholder for warmth before it was charred and all that remained was a pile of dust.


I then wondered why gay men have such a difficult time forming genuine friendships without the immediate expectation of more.

Is it because we watch others around us get into relationships and have kids? Is it the family pressure? Or do we feel led on by that initial spark between two people that isn't quite explained.

I thought I had ignited something of an eternal flame like the one on MLK's memorial down in Atlanta and like moths drawn to the flame we both got our asses burnt.

Who's to blame in this failed venture: me or him? I'm not sure, but it sucks to lose something potentially awesome over some mixed signals, battered emotions and gas drenched arguments.

Luckily the conflagration was extinguished with a bottle of riesling and Drake's SNL skit.

- CGN