One year on...

It's been exactly one year since I last posted on this blog, so I thought it'd be worthwhile updating it.

The most important thing that's happened is that the cute 25 year old Brazilian mentioned in the last few posts went on to become my first ever boyfriend! We were together around six months, until a serious soccer injury forced him to return to Brazil for surgery.

Now before you clasp your hands together and sigh, "Awww, at last GTR has found true love!", there's a few things I need to make clear. 

The first is that although he initially planned to move back to Australia early this year... that never happened. Finances, family and work conspired to keep him in Brazil, where he now has a new (and more age-appropriate) boyfriend. So this relationship is definitely in the past tense.

The second is that I never loved him. I cared for him, deeply, and still do, but I never crossed the line into love. I'm sure he never loved me either, although I know he cared a lot about me too.

The third is that as far as boyfriend relationships go... it was pretty crummy. He was very demanding and seemed to seek drama for drama's sake. Nothing I did was ever good enough for him. Even the sex became an exercise in making him happy with little joy for me. If he hadn't left when he did, I'm sure we would have broken up within a couple of months.

But if that gives the impression that the relationship was horrible or that I regret our time together, it shouldn't. He was my first boyfriend and I was his first boyfriend. He was beautiful and affectionate and we had a lot of fun together. We even took a holiday to Bali together, just before he left, thus fulfilling one of my long-term fantasies. And let me tell you, he had a spectacular ass.

Best of all, though, is the fact that now when I'm out on a date and he asks me, "So, when was your last relationship?", I have an answer, and a breakup story that doesn't assign blame to either party. I can speak confidently about "my ex", rather than trying to avoid the question or apologise for being a loveless loser. That alone is worth everything I invested in the relationship and more.

So where am I now? The closest I've come to a relationship this year was six weeks of dating a sweet and funny guy who suddenly blanked me for no reason that I've been able to ascertain. 

Other than that, it's just the usual disappointments punctuated by occasional moments of hope. I've been averaging sex once a month - with the twinky boy visiting from Sydney whose world I rocked, with the Malaysian bodybuilder who lost interest after two encounters, with the hot but strange guy who desperately wanted me to pound him without actually pounding him, with the cute but repressed young guy who made such weird noises while we fucked that it put me off seeing him again, with the sexy MMA fighter whose sexual skills put him way out of my league (a fact he realised after one night together and never saw me again), and with the guy I could have seen a lot more of... but I was only visiting his city for a day.

So more of the same, really. But at least now I can no longer say, "I've never even had a boyfriend." It's kind of appalling how much comfort I take from that.

Too much to ask

I hear you honey.

This guy is perfection

How is it that some guys are so drenched in sexual appeal?

Seriously, I would commit actual murder to spend a night with this.

Is it this hard for normal people?

It's encouraging to me that I seem to get better and better at this whole gay dating thing, even if the improvement is glacially slow and the eventual outcome has inevitably been failure before actual "boyfriend" status is reached.

I've now been on several dates with the sexy 25 year old Brazilian soccer player from my last post, and things are going reasonably well. We're only seeing each other an average of once a week, but we text each other virtually every day to touch base.

The main problem seems to be accessibility. He is a complete and utter fail in terms of the GTR Test. He doesn't own a car, he only has a part time evening job (since he's at college during the day), and not only does he share an apartment with some Brazilian friends, he also shares a bed, because they are five people living in a three bedroom apartment.

His bedmate is a) straight and b) female, I hasten to add.

So we can't go to his place. And it's hard for him to get to my place on the bus. And he's either working or playing soccer most evenings. And I work all day. And when none of these other things is an issue... I get a cold sore. Or he has to go to the hospital following a soccer injury. Or my parents suddenly announce they're staying with me overnight while on a visit from the country. Or there's a fucking zombie apocalypse!

We can't even spend hours chatting on our phones, because English is something of a struggle for him and Portuguese is something of an impossibility for me.

This might all sound like a fool's version of a proto-relationship, but the thing is when we are actually together the chemistry is profound. We're vigorously attracted to each other, and he's sweet and talented and six kinds of adorable. He texts me to tell me he misses me, or how he's yearning for me to kiss him, or how he just wants to snuggle up to me on the sofa and watch TV. And hey, I feel the same way.

We just never seem to get much chance to prove it.

A bangin' weekend

With all of the sadness and relational failure I post on this blog, I may be giving the impression that my sex life is perpetually empty. But while it's not unusual for a couple of months to go by between encounters, they do occur with a reasonable frequency. Although like buses, there tends to be big gaps and then two or three come at once... pun intended.

Late Friday afternoon I had a coffee date with a 33 year old mixed race engineer whom I'd originally taken to be African- American but turned out to be a more exotic mix of African, Indian and European. We both liked what we saw, so the coffee date segued into me taking him home and having a couple of hours of what can only be described as wild sex.

I'd never truly appreciated what a "power bottom" is. It was like fucking a hurricane. In the end I was so drenched in sweat that I've had to throw out my saturated pillows.

If I hadn't been in his company for the previous hour and seen him being quiet, I would have assumed that he was on drugs. But it seems he's just a guy who really, really loves sex, and specifically sex that involves his ass being pounded for hours by a big hard cock. I kept thinking that what he really needed was a couple, so that one could take over from the other when the exertion became too much.

Which is not to say that he didn't enjoy sex with me. It was interesting that he said he enjoyed the sex because he felt like he was being made love to, rather than just fucked. Apparently a lot of his encounters are blow'n'go scenarios, often with married men. Apparently I give good love.

The following night the second man, a 25 year old Brazilian student, came over to my house for our first date, to have dinner and watch a movie. We managed dinner, but afterwards I kissed him in my living room and any thought of watching 'American Hustle' went right out the window. From 7.30pm till about 1am we had sex. Then we dropped off to sleep. Then we woke up at 4am and got right back into it.

There was a lot to like about this sexual encounter. Being a shallow man, I enjoyed the fact that I spent an entire night banging a good-looking and very appreciative 25 year old Brazilian soccer player. He admitted that he wanted to kiss me from the moment he walked in my door, and he marveled at the number and variety of things we did together. He also gave me the most comprehensive blow job I think I've ever experienced.

But despite the fact that both dates went well, there is a troubling aspect. Almost every time I've topped over the last several months I've been unable to sustain an erection for the necessary amount of time. When I could stay hard both the African and Brazilian really enjoyed having me inside them, but it was over long before either of them, or me, were satisfied. I was in a position in all other respects to fuck them for as long as we wanted, but my genitals simply couldn't keep it together.

There's nothing quite so frustrating as having a hot, naked man in your bed, begging you to fuck his brains out, only to find that your cock is going, "Meh, I'm just not feelin' it" and withdrawing.

I still made both of them come - the African through mutual jerking off and the Brazilian through a blowjob - but in both cases I couldn't take them to the places they wanted.

The urgency of the need to get a cock ring seems to be growing. Which is kind of ironic.

In which I fail to make the grade, yet again.

Over the last couple of months I've had two contenders for First Boyfriend Ever. But needless to say, both relationships fell apart before the first hurdle.

The first was the more profound of the two, lasting for around six weeks. I liked him and he liked me. He was very demonstrative (we were holding hands by our second date) and he made me laugh. Sure, he smoked and sure, he drank too much and sure, he was on anti-anxiety and anti-depression and anti-ADHD medications. And sure, he had such a hairy back that being the Big Spoon was an ordeal. I could look past those things to the cute, sweet, affectionate guy behind it all.

But he grew bored and, I think, resentful that I was going away for a month's holiday in Europe, a trip I'd organised long before I met him. We were supposed to have a date on the Friday before I left and he cancelled because he was tired. So we rescheduled for the Sunday, right before I was flying out, but he stood me up and then claimed he'd fallen asleep. I figured I'd been dumped, but when I got back from Europe I reached out to him anyway. He responds to my texts, sometimes, and he did admit to wanting me once, at 1.30am, when he was drunk, but that hasn't translated into an actual meeting.

However just as this was happening, about two weeks ago, I was being determinedly pursued by another guy. He doesn't smoke or drink too much, he's attractive and sexy and goofy with a killer smile, and he can't get over how "beautiful" I am. Our first two dates quickly devolved into uncontrollable sex, but bookending the sex we both seemed to like what we were finding out about each other. It was moving fast but it felt right to both of us.

But we were supposed to have a date last night, and since Sunday morning he refused to answer my texts. Last night came and went without a word from him. Figuring he had misplaced his phone or something, I tried phoning it. I got a text soon after saying that, "there's nothing worse than speaking on the phone... it's traumatizing" and that there's "too much to handle in (his) head". I texted back to ask what was going on and offering my help if I could, but there hasn't been a response.

I should have known that anyone who thought I was "beautiful" would turn out to be mentally disturbed.

So I'm back to square one, yet again.

It's not that I don't have interest from other quarters - just nothing that's welcome. There's a friend of a friend who is desperate to date me. Sure, he's unattractive and tedious and demanding and we have nothing in common, but he wants me. Or rather he wants someone, and I'm available. And apparently I don't deserve any better than that.

It doesn't help that another friend, who is roughly the same age as me, is in the process of falling in love with an amazing guy, and he's been giving me a blow by blow account of it all. He has a knack for evocatively describing the delicious terror of meeting someone out of your league, fearing for the moment that the spell breaks and he realises he's too good for you, but then discovering that, somehow, magically, he's actually really into you too.

In addition, the sex is apparently epic. Of their most recent encounter, he said it was, "undoubtedly the most passionate and out there and enlightening sexual experience of my life"... and it seems his lover felt the same way.

Of course I am both jealous of him and hopeful for him: hey, I'm a human being and I'm allowed to have contradictory feelings about the situation. The cynic in me notes that he's tall and freakishly fit and a very engaging person... of course he's going to find love sooner or later. The optimist in me notes that if he can find love in his mid-40s, maybe there's the slim possibility that the rest of us can too.

An event not to be missed!

Hey everybody! There's a sale on gays!

You know, I've been looking for an attractive new top - something summery that fits me well. Hell, at these prices I might just get two!