My So-Called Love Life

This site -- my anthology -- is the story of a man, a young man, trying to find his way to love. Experiencing everything in between and serving you his heart on a silver-freaking-platter to the naked eye, for the whole world to see; relate, indulge, delve, and hopefully learn from his mistakes. Happy Dating! Copyright © 2004-2011, "My So-Called Love Life" ® Mario Ion. All Rights Reserved.

Wednesday, November 24, 2010

World War We

The spectral and most often misapprehended ideal of dating is most commonly blurred on whether or not someone is compatible with you. And frankly the most tedious aspect of dating is the in-between phases; picking through flaws, getting to know the person, accumulating whether or not there is any substratum for anything more long-term, in terms of relationships.

It's hard to find that person in a world where we have websites like A4A to distort the realities in the eyes of other men. We're limited to 550 characters of self-explanation, and 5 pictures to capture moments of narcissism and maybe some self-loathing. Most gay men alike are only interested in shaking your hand and showing you to their bedroom. And the ones that are more interested in some lesser sexual / sensual meeting only seem to be interested in getting away from their real life for the moment. There are those you date and find no interest in, those you sleep with but find no heart in, and those you just hang out with and find no real point in going further. It's the in-between process that kills existentialism in the idea of Romance and Love.

I've spent a great deal of my dating life ascertaining my many dispositions and intents, believing I know what or who I want in my life. So I surrounded myself with friends and lovers alike, fucked countless others, dated many more. Somehow nothing ever stuck. Granted I've landed a few longer-term relationships, some years, others months. Often times I find myself longing for some sense of interaction with another person; be it hanging out, grabbing a bite to eat, comic commentary over a movie, stimulating the synapses in our brains with intellectual conversation, or even outspoken soft romantic gestures with a sexual pun or two thrown in the mix. It seems like it was just yesterday that I was a youthful teen, not bothered by the reality of how lonely life becomes when you're an adult.

I had it set in notion that when I move out of New York and into Pennsylvania, I'd be a different person; that I would drop my walls and let in some fun in life; meet men, sleep with them, date them, and just try to be a little less sheltered. Today that notion changed. I've been down that road many a times before, when I moved to Kansas City, and even back to New York for a short period of time. It hasn't gotten me too far aside from a few scars, a few holes in my heart, and a currently incurable disease as a reaction to being burned and heartbroken to such an extreme.

I think it's hard for anyone to really know what they want in another person, as we are ever evolving and changing. Just a year ago I wanted to be a little more uninhibited and start having some fun. But today? Today I just want someone to be there to enjoy a Thanksgiving dinner with our families, to rip open presents you've been dying to buy them, under the Christmas tree and a warm fire, and to welcome a New Year with a kiss. Time goes by a lot faster than we like to admit, and seasons come and go almost too quickly. Sometimes quick enough that you don't have to sit there and ponder the many pleasantries you can experience during these times. It took me remembering my birthday, coming up in January, to really sulk in the truth that I've never really had someone special to celebrate it with, someone special to wish me that happy birthday I normally hate hearing from others.

How do you find someone significant in a corrupted system of ideals mostly driven by stereotypes and stereotypical men alike? Everybody wants material, beach bods, Hollywood smiles, and pornstar sex. Nobody has time for reality and love anymore.


Today over dinner I got to thinking about Chemistry and how it really works. Call me a lunatic but I feel like we can compare it to the process of getting dinner at a restaurant. We discuss what restaurant or type of food you like: the pre-meet; walk into the restaurant, be seated: the introductions; a look through the menu: covering the basics; order your starting beverages: the icebreaker; and the 4 minute grace period in which your drinks are served, and you're given time to decide what you want to eat: the medium.

At this point in this kind of date, you're left with a few minutes to cover a little more of the basics; get some insight on the kind of person they are. The usual conversation(s) consist of where you're from/grew up, where you went to school, what you've done with your life thus far, hobbies, interests, and if there's enough time -- passions. The waitor comes back to take your order, at which point you've decided you'll test wits and order something bizarre but intruguing, as they do the same: the hook. Giving you 16 minutes more to discuss more intimate details of each other's lives. These details usually consist of getting to know what they're interested in, when it comes to being with another person; what they're looking for, what they're not looking for, and maybe an exchange of outrageous stories about previous encounters and affairs; the bridge. And so your food arrives and you both begin to dig in; carefully analyzing their tableside manners; the way they linger over every morsel, utilizing their attention to their sense of taste to become totally involved in their food. Sometimes it might even turn you on, because as we know -- the way one approaches a meal is in direct proportion to how they'd approach you in bed. And so you glare them momentarily with your bedroom eyes.

This part of the date determines whether they'd be interested in prolonging the date to some after-meal drinks. Drinks that would, based on your interest this far into the date, lower some of your boundaries. After the meal, while staring into each other's eyes with anticipation for the next move, maybe exchanging smirks and grins; one or the other asks about the availability for a drink or two. Agreed upon, the waitor is hailed. You order a wine, he orders a martini... Subtle, different, but they mesh. A few sips into it and you start to feel the warmth of the alcohol, or maybe the warmth of the company; you bump feet under the table or maybe touch hands. At this point it's no holds barred and there's a tinge of fire in each of your eyes.

We dance to the beat of music, and our hearts beat in different tones; we relish and feed our senses and our heart reacts to different emotions and maybe even sensations we feel at any given moment. When we dance, our hearts race and beat strong and hard to match the stomp of our feet, and the pace of our body. We lavish our sense of taste with foods and delicasies, and our hearts flutter and soften as we relish every bite. We sip our cocktails and eventually our hearts begin to beat steady but more stronger, as it starts to pump the blood a little more warmer. And when we're on this type of date, this far into it, we find that our hearts jump a beat or two the moment the hands touch, or eyes meet, and even more so when the lips lock.

Chemistry is a mystery only our bodies can translate...
but it doesn't take a rocket scientist to determine when two people are into each other.

Long Distance Heartbreak (Part II)

New York City, "The City That Never Sleeps..." Ever wonder why it isn't sleeping? Could it be because of the 24-hour Starbucks on Times Square; the highly franchised 711's to address your "convenient" needs; the Pornshops and Peepshows on nearly every corner to ease your stresses; 24-hour Sephoras to meet your glamourous desires; or the fact that there's practically a party at any top-notch club for every day of the week? We have so many outlets for ways to get out of sleeping in... Or maybe it's never sleeping because we're too busy worrying about who we're going to sleep with. But what happens when you're not sleeping because you're sleeping with the enemy?

Two years ago I found myself unable to sleep one night, and so I started browsing the web... You know -- the typical gay social/dating websites. I figured I'd browse around and see what the interweb can bring to the table, as I found myself growing tired of the nightlife grind. I had it in my head that maybe a harmless casual chat will wear my synapses down enough to make it to my bed that night. I browsed around, disappointed, and found myself stumbling into the local chat-room to the city I used to live in, Kansas City MO. I entertained myself with the irrelevant banter the locals seemed to arouse, and magically enough I stumbled across someone painfully gorgeous, who I'd recognize later on. We'll call him "N."

The chat was casual, "Hey, you're cute," "I've seen you around before, can't remember where," "How's things been?" etc. And with just that, it seemed a few hours flew by, lost in translation or at least in the convo, almost effortlessly. There's something to be said about chemistry over the internet -- no judgements, easier to get along, no awkwardness, and definitely no presuppositions to intervine with a possible connection. Suffice to say we exchanged phone numbers, and no sooner after that, found ourselves nearly inseperable; aside from the hundreds, maybe thousands of miles dividing us from our arms' reaches.

In the midst of this existentialism in a long distance love affair, I've always had the intention of traversing back to KCMO, as I've made some of my better friends during my time there. Perhaps "N" was just the icing on the cake, the influencial incentive to bring me back more sooner than planned. And so we've discussed the possibilities; my visiting, possibly moving back to the city, somewhere in the mixup we've even managed to juggle the idea of being together and moving in with him. Months of procrastination and planning go by, and I find myself in the city again, visiting my best friend "J" and my others, "B", "S", and then some. But only this time, "N" and I have been out of touch for some time. I figured I'd surprise him but somehow we've lost our "connection" so to speak. A weekend visit turns into a 2-week stay, in between all the fun my friends and I had exumed; a boy can get lonely... And so the dating and hooking-up began. Needless to say the 2-week stay turned into an "I don't know when I'll go back" kind of journey, and somewhere in between all that, I found myself exclusively dating on "B.D." That is of course until I found it plastered all over his internet that he'd been sleeping around loosely.

A couple of months go by and unconventionally my journey in this city has reached its hault. Packed my stuff and got on the next bus back home. Two days of a road-trip later, unwind. Settle in. Discuss my adventures to friends and family. Recover. Get back to work. Come home. Tired. Restless. Mundane repetition. Sigh. Go to bed. Repeat. Occasionally meet guys. Have sex. Try to date. Fail miserably. Swear off sex. Go running back to sex. Reevauluate my position in the ideal of love while on the precipes of becoming a loner. Meet a guy. Hit it off. Have more sex. Start to like him. Start to fall. Start to love him. Dig for flaws. Found many. Start to retreat. Get pulled back in. Only to be pushed right out. Repeat. Repeat. He's in love with someone else still. I'm in love with someone else still. And finally I find myself back on the site where I'd await an e-mail from the ever-so-elusive "N," all while trying to maintain a chaotic but thoroughly entertaining relationship with "C."

It wasn't so bothersome that "C" had a secret relation to his "J," as I've rekindled and maintained mine with "N." It was almost perfect until I found myself tethering the brink of an unsighted lapse of judgement and persona. Juggling two loves can do a number on one's mentality. "C" lasted some 9 months of push-and-pulling and tug-of-war, while "N" was truly the secret that kept me sane. At least I had something to look forward to. You know -- when that person is your waking and somber thought; jumping for joy when you see their name light up radiantly, as much as your love for them, on your phone. And so our unconventional long distance love affair continued, a year and some change into it. We even got as far as to saying the big L bomb to each other, and what spun my head the most is how he said it first -- what no other man has done before. And our chemistry was still as explosive as ever, no dulling in sight whatsoever.

Some points of this torrid love affair were iffy. Some times he'd disappear for a couple of days or weeks, some times I would. I guess Long Distance only works so long until one or the other, or both, find themselves needing physicality; and since the unwritten rules and regulations of "different area codes" tends to apply, well, you can only imagine what we'd do without each other knowing. Perhaps the actions caused some kind of guilt-trip, which prompted a breathing period to absorb this strange feeling for even someone 2100 miles away. And of course we'd find ourselves back within each others frequency, as if nothing had ever happened. All while still debating the details of making this affair not so long distance. He's tossed around the idea of moving me in with him and even looking after me till I find my place in the city. And on multiple occasions teased me with the notion of buying a one-way plane ticket into his loving arms. But alas, that notion has lasted month after month with no such follow-through on his part. But what was holding me back from going ahead and buying a ticket? Simple: Who's to say I'd buy a ticket and he'd leave me stranded at the airport, nowhere to be found, stood up, heartbroken. But I suppose the same could be said from his perspective: Who's to say I would even get on that airplane? EVEN though I wouldn't even so much as second-guess it. But "N" has stood me up on buying me the ticket just as much as I'd imagine he'd do so at his airport. And so our "relationship" began to deteriorate over false promises and distraught doubts.

We'd eventually lose touch again, and I'd eventually start dating again. Back to the grind. Hop online. Chat with guys. Meet them. Find something I like about them. Indulge. Arouse them. Sleep with them. Ditch them. Repeat. Sexually releasing the stresses of my heart. Repeat. Go on a sabatical. Hate the sabatical. Find another guy and so on. And every so often "N" would light up on my phone -- and as anticipated -- as if nothing happened. And so the routine would commence. And I thought to myself "Really!?" Is it possible for someone to truly find some sick, twisted sense of enjoyment in teasing the idea of importing someone from another city, on the precipes of chemistry and "love," only to string them along for months, even years, to no end? Is it possible that someone could find pleasure in paining someone else with false ideals and empty promises? I can't stop myself from being gullable and vulnerable to the advances of someone I find myself intimately attracted to; but maybe he used that as ammunition for his M16 that is his game and grasp over me. What does someone really get out of all this? I know I get a shit-ton of headache and heartache. Just a few days ago "N" popped up in my digital life again after a 2 month pause, caused by a fueled bout after yet another broken promise. His excuses, ever so benign, always seem to win me over. This time it was "family" issues, and him not wanting me to be involved in it. And of course, predictably, he'd make the promise of a ticket his way the following Friday -- and to my surprise (yes, I'm still surprised by it) -- he disappears again.

I've come across some players in my time, but none like this before. We go to sleep with the notion that tomorrow could bring good, but he seems to sleep with the promise that tomorrow he'll break hearts. I can only imagine how many others like me he's luring in; with his callous charm, new-age sleaze, his irresistable voice, and insanely sexy swagger. Maybe he's reacting to the same events someone once plagued him with, and finding some sense of closure in inflicting it on someone else. Or maybe he's afraid of what I could mean to him, as I already [knew] what he meant to me. At some point I almost believed in the idea of soul-mates, as he represented every detail and characteristic in a guy I've ever wanted. Or maybe none of it was real... Maybe he's some sick bastard who's not even gay -- not even who he says he is -- and gets off on breaking hearts because nobody would ever love his fat, hairy, repulsive ass in person. And they say "distance makes the heart grow fonder..." HA! -- which part -- The burn or the sting?