Wednesday, June 24, 2015

Fantasy Hookup with the Chinese Food Delivery Guy

Dayton, October 2005

After the wealth of Asian guys available in California -- Chinese, Japanese, Thai, Korean, Vietnamese, Cambodian, Burmese, Malaysian, Filipino --  I felt deprived when I moved to New York -- during four years, I was only with six Asian guys:
1. Peter, the Filipino undergrad who is #3 on my Sausage List
2. Jun, a Japanese gymnast who I met in Montreal
3. An undergrad history major from Shanghai. We had just one date.
4. A guy I met at the Eagle, whose name I don't remember.
5. Mario the teen model.
6. And  the Man in Black, a priest or something who cruised me in the street.

I felt even more deprived in Fort Lauderdale.  In four years, I was with only two Asian guys, and one of them, the Son of Mr. Blowfish,  I met while back in Rock Island for a visit..

By the time I got to Dayton,  I was desperate.  If I didn't get some Asian action soon, I'd be hopping the next plane to Hong Kong.

Unfortunately, the population of Dayton is less than 1% Asian, and I wasn't meeting any.

Then I ordered Chinese food.

Who hasn't wanted to do this to the delivery guy?

He's always the son or brother of the owner, young, cute, and smiling -- not like the grungy ex-cons who deliver Domino's.

He doesn't speak English well, so whatever you ask, he nods in agreement.

And he brought you food, so subconsciously you think you're on a date.

The guy from the Dragon Palace who delived my Hunan chicken was young, black-haired, and smiling, but darker and more muscular than I expected.  Three of the five traits I find attractive -- and I was deprived of Asian companionship.

This guy was getting in my bed.

One way or another.

"Um...I don't have any money for your tip.  Can I write you a check?"

"Ok, check," he said, grinning.  "My name is Long Wei Chan, but you can say Bobby Chan."

He walked into the kitchen while I wrote out his 50% tip.

"This is very nice apartment  You live all alone?"

"No, I have a roommate." I didn't really, but you never reveal to strangers that you live alone.

"How much you pay?"

I told him.

"Nice," he said, and left, while I kicked myself for not having a game plan prepared in advance..

I intended to wait a couple of days and try again, after I developed a cruising strategy, but a couple of hours later, Bobby knocked on the door.

"Hi -- did I forget something?"

"No, no -- sorry to bother you.  I want to ask you something -- can I come in?"

Absolutely!  Come inside, take your clothes off!  I yelled in my mind.  But I just said "Sure.  Come in and sit down.  What's up?"

Bobby sat on a chair, not the couch (Darn it!!!) and explained that he was planning to move out of his parents' house, and he wanted to bring his "friend" around to see how nice my apartment was -- maybe they could move into my building.

A hookup with Bobby and his "friend"?  Well, he didn't actually say "a hookup," but still -- what else could he mean?  My mind reeled.

We agreed to meet the next night for coffee and dessert. I invited Chuck, my "friend with benefits" over, because it isn't wise to entertain two strangers by yourself.

The "friend" turned out to be a Caucasian guy named Thad, a few years older than Bobby, and a lot more muscular, but a little too tall for me, with a long, bearded face that's one of my turn-offs.

They looked at my bookshelves full of gay books, beefcake movie posters, and statue of Michelangelo's David without surprise or comment.  Obviously a gay couple.

Still, I was a little disappointed -- I had been expecting another Asian guy.


I got even more disappointed.

"A place like this would be great for us," Thad said after the tour.  "You know, Bobby really wanted to move in with his girlfriend, but his parents said 'no way'!"

Girlfriend!!!!!!

"Together for two years!" Bobby bragged.


I excused myself, went into the bathroom, and ranted.

When I came out, Thad was waiting in the hallway.

"Oh, sorry.  It's all yours."

"Wait."  His hand pressed against my chest.  "Do you mind..." he stammered.  "I just want to see...I want to..."  Then he was kissing me.

I broke away.  "I though you and Bobby were straight."

"Oh, he doesn't know about me.  Frankly, he's a little naive.  He didn't even figure it out from your beefcake poster.  I mean, who wouldn't figure it out from that?"

Later conversations revealed that Thad had a special interest in Asian guys -- he met Bobby through an unsuccessful cruise.

He had a whole address book full of gay Asian friends and former boyfriends, including a very hot graduate student in political science at Ohio State.

So I didn't get the delivery boy, but I did finally meet some Asian men.

See also: Hooking Up with the Museum Guard; and the Hookup with the Water Delivery Guy.

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