Tuesday, April 12, 2011

Love 1.0.4: The Hook-Up as the Precursor to the Date

Far-fetched, yes. Slutty, maybe. Whore, never. As I stared at the glowing screen of my phone, there it was, room 822, Marriot Hotel. Previously, I had already invited myself over, but then the doubt settled in. What would he think about me? Would he believe that it is this easy, and that I do this all the time. Will he be able to take me seriously afterwards? We had made plans to go on a date/meet up the following day, but after playful banter via text, I said why not? Why not go over? After debating with myself, which happens a lot, I went.

There I was standing in front of his hotel room. Waiting, anticipating...he better not have lied about his stats and pictures. The door cracks open, and it's him. Standing there, in his maroon Burberry polo, navy blue shorts, and beautiful hazel eyes, it's the guy in the picture. Perfect, because I didn't have an escape plan. There was no call back phone number I could hit that would call me and tell me something happened to my dear great aunt. I had just got into town from work, so my outfit was semi-planned. Thank goodness I carry a toothbrush to work! We sat there talking about our jobs, what we like and dislike, and that he was previously married to a woman and had just come out 5 years ago. What did I get myself into? There was no flashing neon sign saying STAY AWAY!

After a few minutes of probing (no sex toys involved), we ended up in the bath tub, prepping for a massage that was promised. The night continued with the massage and more cuddling. I can continue to tell you the story, but as gay men, you have already made up the rest of it by the time I said hook-up in the title.

It was a great evening until the alarm went off at 5:30AM. That's when we woke up, I turned around saw his face in the morning light...fuck, I like him!

This was just supposed to be sex. Nothing more, nothing less. But it happened... I liked him. Good thing we still had a date planned, this would be the true test. After he got off of work I picked him up and drove us to Yard House. Great food, good beer, and the hockey game was on. He loves the Ducks. In between pauses and call outs in the game, we conversed a bit more. In the back of my head was, he just wants to have sex again. Or, he didn't want to be there, especially after already getting what he wanted. Then he says, "I didn't think it would be us having sex before the date." What a relief, we were both on the same page thinking about it.

Why were we both beating ourselves up over this idea, this concept? There is nothing wrong with meeting up for sex first and then something coming out of it. If anything, it gets sex out of the way! We both had checked out the goods, got a taste, and saw what we were investing in. There was no hiding it now. Physical attraction is a big part of any relationship.

Relationship. That is the big R-word that comes into question after a hook-up. We both talked about it. The fact is that if anything did ensue afterwards we both had to explain how we met and where to friends, and inquiring minds always want to know. That was the more embarrassing part. We didn't want our hook-up, our need for sex, to cheapen what could be if it happened. People have ideas, people judge...fuck we were judging ourselves.

Two weeks later, post self-judgement, we have gone out almost every other night. From hook-up, to dating, to....


  1. "Slutty, maybe. Whore, never." Wrong. You flew past those categories with the "hook-up with a total stranger"... in a hotel... with no safety net. Wow, is sex really that important to you?

  2. Oh please Wowed! get off your high horse, everyone has done it. Stop living your life in fear.

  3. It was a hook-up to begin with...so yes sex was what mattered only at the time. That's what we were looking for. I am not going to lie. But I know what you are getting at, the hotel part, something wrong could have happened. I could have been killed. The same thing can happen meeting someone randomly at a bar, at school...you can be raped, maimed, killed anywhere. If I thought that way, then I might as well become a recluse.