Cell Block(ed) Tango

About a month after Max and I called it quits I started to feel that familiar itch; to find someone to give me the things I need - time, attention, cuddles. Sure, I had never fully logged off of Grindr or the other apps, but I've just been killing time looking for the more seductive instant gratification. Why be sad and lonely when you can half-assed scroll through dating sites and hookup apps? And why bother worrying about feelings when you can just live more freely unattached? When I'm in one of these slumps I love to find a hot guy - more than likely not a top choice, but higher on the scale than most - to talk and flirt with. I get the rush of adrenaline when things heat up and the flood of dopamine after it's done; and as an added bonus I don't have to worry about boyfriend stuff. Even if I didn't make it abundantly clear that I'm only looking for something casual - as casual as casual can be, preferably - my cold demeanor and air of peculiarity certainly dispel anyone from the notion of getting to know me better.

Grindr has not always been kind to me. Sure, I've met my fair share of guys on Grindr, but my periods of minor success do nothing to make up for the complete lack of interest I experience the majority of the time. Even though this is known as the Tri-Cities area, the pond is still incredibly shallow. The surge of fresh faces invokes a heady sense of optimism; hoping that the new face is a transplant and not just a guy driving through. For some reason, even though I've grown more comfortable with hookups in the last five years, the idea of hooking up with a stranger that I will most likely never see again and know the bare minimum about makes me even more nervous than usual. In my twisted logic, if the guy is from around my area, it's safe to assume that the other gays know him; he has roots and someone I know might have met him once. Totally safe, right? Solid logic. Except it isn't.

In the fall of 2024, a gay guy in my area was found murdered, some of his body parts having washed up at a boat launch in Bay City. It turns out, the victim had met up with a guy who had ultimately murdered and mutilated his body. The victim's name was Justie; I had never met him before, but I had seen his profile on Grindr fairly regularly. He wasn't really my type, so we'd never met up, but still, to think that something as heinous as that would still happen in 2024 was frightening. A guilty part of myself was relieved that I am too much of a recluse to even consider having a midnight liaison with a stranger unless it's at my place. I felt marginally safer in my own territory, but I would not be brave enough to go to a random guy's house for sex; once again, I've seen too many horror movies. Thankfully, Justie's killer was found and arrested, ultimately being charged with open murder and dismemberment or mutilation of a dead body. As horrible as it was, I felt grateful that we live in a time where justice was served fairly and that it hadn't just been swept under the rug, a scandal in the Tri-Cities. Ever since Justie's body was found, I've made sure to be even more careful than ever when picking my mates.

I'd like to think that I've gotten pretty good at reading people, at least online. I'm rarely surprised when the cute guy turns out to be narcissist or a drama bomb; I've developed a knack for weeding through the bullshit to glimpse more closely at the man behind the curtain, to experience each individual guy's vibe and make a decision from there.

The older that I get and the more I delve into introspection I see that my life isn't necessarily conducive to a relationship, not of the standard variety, that is. My agoraphobia is getting worse with each day, not to mention my lack of enthusiasm for driving. Who wants to date a guy who doesn't want to leave his house or drive? Throw in my clowder of cats and my preference for being solitary, and you've got a less-than-ideal candidate for a relationship. Still, I keep looking, hoping to meet someone who will break me out of my shell; after all, when I was interested in Terrence, I would drive to him - of my own free will - because I wanted to see him. Maybe I can overcome my issues for a guy if the desire is really there.

While I've given up hope of finding more than a hookup or a potential friend with benefits on Grindr, I've been putting in more time on the other apps like Tinder, Bumble, and Hinge. I try to keep my photos current; whenever I get a message from a match I always respond. Sometimes it weird for me to not to be overly sexual at first, and I have to remind myself that it isn't Grindr, that the goal isn't just a meaningless fling, but genuine connection.

One night on Tinder, I matched with a guy named Jonathan. From the pictures, he looked just like my type: dark hair, beautiful, expressive brown eyes, and a warm smile. He immediately reminded of Noah Galvin with his cherubic, innocent face. Unfortunately, he lived about an hour away, but I decided that there was no harm in chatting, after all, new friends are always nice - even virtual ones. As I looked more closely at Jonathan's profile, I learned that he was non-binary and was taking estrogen; that was all new territory for me, but he was presenting male, so I felt comfortable that I wouldn't misgender him.

Jonathan and I had a lot in common; we're both writers, though his medium is poetry, we share a love of musicals and Ru Paul's Drag Race - typical gay stuff. Jonathan was the kind of person that I could have a deep, intellectual conversation with and not have to worry about coming across as dumb or being misunderstood. His first message to me on Tinder included a question about what I did to stay sane during the craziness going on around us. My answer: ignore it. I have never been a political person; I don't understand how people can get that worked up over something that they have absolutely no control over. By all means have ideals and stand by your beliefs, but to take it to the level of immaturity and violence that both sides often take it to - that's off-putting to me. In my case, it takes all of my energy to get up and go to work every day - running a store is not easy - I don't have the time or the energy to fight the fight on top of that. Whenever a younger person starts talking about their politics, I panic and prepare to get berated when I tell them the truth: I don't care about politics, I don't follow them. I don't watch the news, I don't read newspapers. The less that I know about what's going on in the world around me, the better for my health - both mental and digestive. I was raised in an apolitical house; I did know that my stepdad leans toward Republican candidates, but he's Canadian and can't vote. My mom didn't care about politics at all, which makes it so fascinating to me now that she's a full-fledged Trump supporter. Especially since she was raised by a hardcore Democrat; my grandma often told me about how one of the proudest things that she ever did was lie to her parents and vote for JFK.

Before long, it became clear that the sexual chemistry was there for us as well. Jonathan told me that he had previously dated him roommate, a trans-man, but that now they were just friends. It turned out that Jonathan was also bi. It seemed to me that I could not find a more open-minded person in the entire state of Michigan. We ended up sending some racy Snapchat messages - many times - and made plans to hang out; it's been almost a month, and we still haven't made our introductions in person, but we stay in touch; Jonathan is a great friend.

Once in a while I meet someone on Grindr that is actually a semi-decent person, much to my surprise. A few weeks after I started a friendship with Jonathan - with sexual tension - I started talking to a hot guy named Zane on Grindr. He was twenty-four and lived in Coleman, less than an hour away. He also had dark hair and eyes, with perfect nipples and a pierced navel. He told me he and his roommates had a menagerie of their own including dogs, cats, and chickens; I figured I was safe on the cat front, then, especially since they lived on a farm. Our sexual attraction was more immediate; we quickly exchanged nudes and then Snapchats.

A week or so in, I jokingly told Zane he should take me on a date; I was shocked when he immediately agreed. He confessed that in his previous relationships he'd been the bottom - he'd been the one to get taken out, the one to get treated, etc., but he was open to expanding beyond his comfort zone to take me out; we made plans for that Sunday. Throughout the week, we sent naughty snaps and slowly got to know each other. I was really looking forward to my first date with someone post-Max; Zane didn't have kids, nor was he questioning his sexuality - he knew what he wanted. What he wanted, apparently, was me.

When Sunday rolled around, Zane had to ask for a rain check. I wasn't upset - I get it. With the holidays approaching and the general chaos that they wreak in their wake, I completely understood. I told Zane that he didn't even have to take me out if he didn't want to, that I didn't want to force him to be more relationship-oriented if he was just looking to hookup. He assured me that he wanted to take me out, but that it was complicated with our conflicting schedules.

The more we talked, the more I learned that Zane really was genuine. Sure, I got shower pics most nights - instantly making me forget about pizza and thinking about Zane's wet, juicy ass, but he assured me that while he was very horny lately, he wasn't just looking for a hookup. We began discussing date ideas: I'm rather low maintenance when it comes to dates; I was content getting fast food or a small cafe - maybe a movie. I don't want to spend an exorbitant amount on a date, at least not until the relationship is serious; I don't want the guy to have to spend a lot on me, either. I like shiny things and fancy labels, but I support my own glamour addiction. I was surprised when Zane suggested roller blading. I have not gone roller blading since I was ten or eleven - over twenty years ago! From what I remember I wasn't that good at it then; my balance has only gotten worse with age. Zane told me that rollerblading was one of his favorite hobbies and that he'd always wanted to have a rollerblading date; he thought it sounded adorable. I decided that should we get around to our date, I'd be open to going rollerblading - for him.

In the midst of my new potential love interest and a fresh friend with benefits, the familiar problem of Santiago began to rear its ugly head. As soon as Zane and I had started to make a connection, I began to feel my gut knot up. I knew that if things went well between us and we actually started dating, that I was in for a world of trouble from Santiago. He would have absolutely no right to be angry that I'd found someone, certainly no right to verbally assault me but I knew from past experience that Santiago did not take rejection lightly - no matter what the reason.

The first night that he messaged me post-Zane, it was almost three in the morning. I was snuggled up in bed with Alistair and Romana, watching a movie when my phone started ringing, alerting me that someone was calling me on Facebook. I knew that most people were asleep at that point, so I was eager to see who was calling me: Santiago. I ignored the call, flipping my phone upside down - out of sight, out of mind. I was not even remotely horny, and I certainly didn't want company that late at night. He started blowing my phone up.

Hey

Are you awake

Or naw

Missed audio call

I'm a block away at speedway

Was wondering if you wanted me to stop by

Missed video call

Missed audio call

Ok driving away

I know it was late

Ok driving home

Figured you'd want to play

As I read his barrage of messages, I couldn't help but worry about the blow-up when I decided to message him back. I knew that he didn't have a right to be mad if I wasn't in the mood - or asleep - but when he was drinking, there was no rationalizing with him. I decided to just ignore him until I woke up. When I did, I send him a simple: No. I was out. I knew Santiago well enough that he would sulk for a bit, licking his wounds before he reached out again.

The next time he messaged me, it was the weekend before Christmas. With the full onset of winter, my sex drive had taken a deep plunge, just like my mental health. Seasonal depression tends to hit me hard in the winter, making me not want to do anything but sleep. It isn't uncommon for me to sleep twelve hours or more in the winter; I turn all the lights off, crank up my sound machine, and just surrender to my subconscious. To make matters better - or worse - depending on how you look at it, I was given some good gummies that got me to a comfortable level of high-ness but didn't cause any gastrointestinal distress. Once I got high, though, I really didn't want any company. When I'm high I fare much better on my own without a conversation to keep up or attention to give. I certainly wouldn't feel like doing anything sexual - with anyone.

Hey

Hey

Send those videos

Or I can come see you

And there it was: the moment I had been dreading for the last few weeks. I knew that there was no going back now. Santiago was about to be upset with me, but I couldn't lie.

I took an edible. I can't be around anyone.

Dope ok never against the

Then

Never against?

Again

Lol

You sit there and do nothing you can have company

You never even come to play place

You put yourself on pedestal and act like you can never come to my place

Grow up and just block me again.

Only at your convenience, right?

Block it Gabe I won't reach out again.

Even though I'd known deep down that my refusal to meet was going to cause issues, I was still surprised by how angry he got and the things he said. No, I did not want to go to his mother's house and blow him with her in the other room; I'm far too old for that high school, teenaged, sneaking around nonsense. And only at my convenience? Sorry I wasn't horny; if I had allowed him to come over it would have been a very rape-like experience. I wanted to tell him that we weren't dating, and thus I wasn't even remotely obligated to put out for him when I wasn't in the mood, but I knew that anything I said would just add fuel to the fire, so I did as he asked: I blocked him.

I was annoyed that he'd decided to attack me once again, especially when I was having a perfect high, but I decided not to let him ruin my peace and relaxation. I hold myself accountable for my own actions: yes, Santiago is wrong for acting like he did, but I am the idiot who keeps allowing him back into my life. I could keep up this toxic game of back and forth - all for the sake of good head - or I could realize that our situation was never going to change. I had to make the right decision.

I have no intention of unblocking Santiago again. The only reason that I'd allowed myself to go back to him was because I'd been sad about things falling apart with Max. As fucked up as Santiago is, at this point he is comfortable to me; we've been hooking up since 2020, after all. But I can't let myself keep repeating the same unhealthy patterns, expecting a different result. No blowjob - no matter how good - is worth putting up with Santiago's insane antics.

Santiago knows where I work; I'm afraid that once some time passes, he'll come in to order a pizza, forcing me to talk to him. I wouldn't refuse him service - money is money, after all - but if that should happen, I will have to put my foot down and make it clear that we are done. I deserve better than more mental abuse; I deserve someone who will love me all the time, not just sporadically when he's drunk and horny. Someone who respects my boundaries and doesn't try to force me into situations when he's in the mood.

No matter what transpires with Zane, I can't repeat the same actions and expect a different outcome: that's the textbook definition of insanity. I don't need sex or companionship badly enough to put up with the abuse. I deserve better, I am worth more than that. It's a shame that the kissing and bedroom deeds had been so good with Santiago; it's hard enough for me to find someone who can turn me into putty in the bedroom. I want great orgasms, many, many great orgasms, but I want them from someone that I have an actual connection with, someone I can cuddle up with and talk about my day, someone who stops time when he's around. I don't want someone that has to hurt me to feel like big, powerful man, especially since he's the one who's in denial about who he really is.

Chances are I will eventually run into Santiago while in Bay City, but hopefully he'll be sober - and mature - enough to not cause a scene in public. I'm going to start carrying my mace again, just in case. I don't think he'd ever physically harm me, but given how irrational he's shown himself to be, I'd rather be safe than sorry. He's never showed up at my apartment unannounced, so I truly believe that I'm safe there as well.

I try to look at the bright side, though. I must be good in bed to make Santiago that obsessed with me, especially since he refuses to identify as bi or gay; I suspect that he does have feelings for me in his own confused, fucked up way, but that he doesn't know how to process them, let alone work them out. As long as he's not adding unnecessary stress to my life, I don't care what he does.

Zane and I have yet to set a definite date for our raincheck, but whether it happens or not, I know I'll be okay. I can't keep putting so much pressure on myself to find a partner, to be the victor. I know that I was too intense with Max, whether he'll ever admit or not. Unfortunately, I'm a very intense person, there is no in-between for me. Thankfully I have unlimited time to self-reflect and work on fixing myself.