Send to a Friend

It all started with his ad on Craigslist.

While I'm not always super-selective, I do know what turns me on, and he had all the right stuff. For starters, he had pictures - and they were on his word both recent and accurate, and I could tell he wasn't lying on either count. I loved what I saw. And being an old size queen, the numbers he boasted were giving me a boner.

Considering I was looking for immediate gratification, I really warmed to the fact that he was available to meet within hours, plus he was totally willing to accommodate my crazy schedule.

This guy knew exactly what to say to get me feeling all cozy from the get-go.

Given the fact that, by the nature of our liaison, I had to travel to see him, I was thoroughly turned on by the neighborhood and its proximity not only to my office but to where I had to be after he and I were finished with one another. Everything seemed perfect, as he offered his cell number instantly, and our relationship quickly elevated to texting. He was fabulous about answering my messages right away, and as our plans to meet up played out, he was also quick to contact me first, making me feel all the more special and all the more comfortable with what we were doing.

This was, after all, a really big step for me.

If you've read most of my other stuff, you know that I am as loyal a guy as you can hope to meet. I don't play the field. When I find someone with whom I'm comfortable, I am true blue. You never have to doubt my word, and when I tell you I've been somewhere with someone you never have to suspect the veracity of my claims or the good faith with which I've engaged in any activities that didn't directly involve or relate to you.

That, however, was not the case at hand. I was, for all intents and purposes, being unfaithful. Completely. And I was ashamed and torn up emotionally, but I was doing it anyway. It had to be done.

Look, in any relationship you are bound to hit bumps, and even though things were going beautifully for me and Pete, we had reached a serious impasse. I had some very specific needs, about which I was always completely frank; I'm a Man of a Certain Age, and I have timing issues...certain goals I need (or at least expect) to meet by certain deadlines. I'm not getting any younger, and I expect to settle down soon. Maybe it's because Pete's over a decade my junior, or maybe it's just that he's more laid back; though more than anything, it's probably the fact that he's been involved with dozens (maybe hundreds?) of guys just like me that allows him to take my intense neediness in stride, approaching my desires and declarations much more casually than I ever could. In short, I know that what seems of dire consequence to me in the moment is not nearly as life-altering or as pressing in his reality.

So yes; in my crush to have my needs met almost instantaneously, and feeling that maybe my Number One Guy couldn't satisfy me the way I thought he should, my eye began to wander.

It's not as if I was operating in a vacuum. Pete and I had talked in the past of how one guy might not be able to provide everything I desired. During a recent holiday weekend, when I had a definite mental plan of what he and I should do together, he made plans to go away with his friends for a few days, leaving me in the city to wonder if our relationship was losing momentum and if opportunities weren't just slipping by me with each passing day. He knew I was searching for something very specific to enhance my life, and his ability to put my needs on hold left me feeling neglected. So it was his own advice to "do what you have to do" that I leaned on as a crutch as I did indeed allow my wandering eye to see what else was out there on the market.

Enter Nicky, and his all-too-tempting Craigslist ad.

We met that afternoon, though we spent very little time together. We thought it best to meet someplace where we could talk, and get to know one another a bit, but acknowledging my immediate desire for what he was offering, we made plans to get together the very next night.

I was reminded of what a bastard I was being, going behind Pete's back, when I got a text message from one of Pete's friends later that night. Dave had seen me out with Nicky and, fearing word would get back to Pete no matter what I said in response, I chose to ignore the inquiry altogether as if I'd never received it. That way I could just flat out deny the whole situation if ever my whereabouts were brought into question.

But I was, by this point, one guilt-ridden mother fucker. Meeting Nicky had caused me to move my assignation with Pete back by an hour; and, when I finally met him at the apartment on West 47th Street, my guilt was compounded by the surprise news that he had made arrangements to take me someplace afterwards, as well. I was distracted and off-balance because of this juggling act I was performing, but with a sense of both duty and excitement, I eagerly complied with Pete's wishes to prolong my already fucked up evening. I felt like a complete heel. Pete was being so good to me.

Don't think I didn't realize then, as I do now, that Pete knows me and my desires better than any other guy on the street. Yes, there are younger guys who have just as much going for them as he does, but it's Pete who really has the low-down on what I am looking for, and I'm reminded of that essential fact with his every attempt to fulfill my needs and fantasies.

This didn't stop me, however, from returning Nicky's texts during my time with Pete. We made plans for the next night.

What Nicky may have lacked in true, in-depth, intuitive, time-built understanding of my deepest desires, he made up for in sheer enthusiasm and luster. What Pete showed me was constant and gentle attentiveness, though it often bordered on the mundane; if I asked for Times Square or Broadway, Pete the Practical would give me a much more manageable side street - near the action, but off the beaten path. He supplied more calm, less crazy.

But Nicky was all flash, and festival. I'd claim I really wanted simple and sane, but he'd tempt me to think higher and wider. There was no end to the glamor and gloss he promised, and I was pulled into his line of talk without hesitation. Pete made me feel warm, but predictable; Nicky made me feel off-balance, but alive.

Nicky knew about Pete, but not vice-versa. It was understood that, while Pete and I had what I, at least, termed an open relationship, I never flaunted my indiscretions before him. I "did what I had to do", in Pete's own words, to find satisfaction.

But was I indeed finding this satisfaction in Nicky's care?

I decided I needed a second opinion. My best friends knew what was going on, and I really needed someone to provide a reality check. Trini was busy with the two shows she's producing, so I didn't even want to ask her to step in; Christian was out of town reveling in Philly Pride celebrations. So, I turned to my teenage son to assess the situation and provide some clarity.

My son first met Pete when we did "La Cage Aux Folles" together, so they've known one another since my boy was in grade school; knowing Nicky was new on the scene and one of Daddy's whims, he was skeptical, analytical, and ready to remark with a critical and discerning eye. He watched this new guy bring a coat of fresh paint to my landscape, and he called it as just that: delightful, but unnecessary, white wash. He laid it flat out for me. "Pop, you can look all you want for what you think this guy has to offer, but you know where your true happiness lies, and it's in what you've been seeing with Pete.”

My boy knows his old man too well.

Now, before you start writing hate notes to me about my deplorable parenting practices, involving my impressionable young child in the sordid details of my love life, I will remind you that life is not always what you think it is. The facts you think you have nailed down can be very misleading, and what you think you know is not always the truth. I'd be an absolute ass to get my kid mixed up with me and my man problems, so simmer the hell down, and let me explain.

Pete is my real estate broker and, as I put my house on the market and look to settle back down on the island of Manhattan, it's been Pete who has navigated the turbulent waters of apartment hunting with me. Nicky has some great apartments through his upstart brokerage, but in the final analysis I think it's the tried and true, comfortable association with Pete that is going to prove the more fulfilling relationship that gives me what I really want: the comfort and security of something appealing yet manageable, something somewhat exciting and somewhat challenging, but, ultimately, something I can handle practically and emotionally.

Basically, the reality of my love life and the realty of my realty life are one and the same: a mix of sensitivities and emotions and fears and desires that are anything but consistent. But when I find what I'm looking for, I will - without fear or question - know that I'm finally home. And I think (at least as far as the domicile in my vision of domestic bliss is concerned) that my heart is ready to sign the lease on West 47th, and leave the flashier new stuff to the guys who are still out there trying to figure out just what it is that will make them want to hang their hats up and settle down. And to find the place, at least, that they want to call "home."

Write a Comment

You must be logged in to post feedback. Login | Register.