At first I thought, "This is great! So many guys looking for hookups!"
There were 11 guys up for hookups within one mile of me. I live in a high-population density area with about 440 people per square mile. About 30% are adult men, mostly college students.
So: 9% of all adult men within a mile radius were looking for hookups at that moment!
I posted a shirtless pic and started checking out profiles.
Then the deluge began. Beep...beep...beep...beep...beep...beep.
"What are you into?"
"Come over and do me!"
And a lot of "Hi!" "Hi!" "Hi!" "Hi!"
Turns out it was mostly "new meat" syndrome -- the new guy always gets mobbed. After I went on Grindr every night for a few days, it decreased to 10-20 messages per hour.
Nearly everyone looked like a model, presumably due to the wonders of photoshop. I was looking for those who weren't fabulous, the shy, quiet types, not conventionally attractive.
I selected a twink named Gene, 3 miles away, which would place him by the Mall. His picture: a long, narrow face, unruly hair, and a scowl, not particularly attractive. His profile didn't mention sexual positions. Perfect!
We started a text-message conversation -- hard to do with a tiny keyboard where you have to hunt and peck.
"I nvr met anyon on Grimace bfore," I typed. Darn auto-correct.
"Me neither. All the guys ask for my cock size right away, or talk about sexual positions. It's embarrassing." Apparently he was born with an Iphone in his hands.
I couldn't stand a lot of hunt-and-peck conversation, so I got right to it: "Launch tmorrow? Im freedom. Sorry, lunch tmrw? I'm free for Labor Day."
"Ok, I'm off work at 12:30. But I don't have a car. Can you pick me up? I work at the Dollar Tree."
"Sure, I lve mile from th Dllr Stor."
"No -- I work at the Dollar Tree, not the Dollar Store."
There were multiple stores in town with "dollar" in their name?
It was three miles away. So much for 750 feet! But ok. "I'll pack u up fr launch at 1230"
I arrived at 12:30 at the Dollar Tree next to the Old Country Buffet, and waited in the sizzling hot parking lot, occasionally sending him text messages "Almost done?" "Waiting here." and watching the sort of people who patronize such places.
Hint -- they don't work out.
Finally at 1:00, Gene arrived. A tall, thin twink with a sharp face and unruly hair, even less cute than in his photo. "Sorry, I had to close my register."
We had lunch at the Panda Express. Gene was so shy that it was hard to draw him into conversation. I just found out that he was 23 years old, originally from Minnetonka, a suburb of Minneapolis. He came here to study at the university, but dropped out, and was working at the Dollar Store, where his manager was homophobic. He had a brother and a sister, both older, and he liked the Minions from Despicable Me.
"How many guys have you been with?" he asked.
"Oh...um, well, I'm 54 years old, and I've been out since I was 17. Quite a few. Especially since I turned 40, and became a twink magnet."
"I can see why, Every boy wants someone older and experienced. I don't have any experience at all. Three guys, and all they wanted to do was go down on me. I don't even like that. I get too sensitive."
Ok, that ruined my plans for the afternoon.
"I've never even been kissed before," Gene continued.
"Never?" I asked in surprise.
"Nope. I guess I'm a virgin in that area."
Back when I was a Nazarene, Sunday school teachers and camp counselors always told us "No kissing before your wedding night." Our goal was to find someone "pure," who had never been kissed before. Of course, even among Nazarenes, it was impossible to find anyone over the age of 14 who hadn't been kissed.
Ok, we were hooking up. "Well, we can take care of that. Do you live near here?"
"Well, about three blocks from the Dollar Tree, but ..actually, I have a straight roommate. Could we go to your place?"
Three miles home, three miles to drop you off, and three miles back. So far I was in this for 12 miles.
I took him into the bedroom. We stripped. While kissing.
And lay on the bed. Kissing.
We fondled each other, but whenever I tried to push his mouth -- or my mouth -- into other activities, he pushed me back into a kiss.
His enormous, beautifully shaped Kielbasa was standing there, waiting for me, off limits.
We finished through fondling, but that didn't end the hookup. The kissing continued.
After two hours, with my jaw sore and my lips chapped, I pushed Gene back into his clothes, dragged him to the car, and drove him home.
"This has been great!" he said. "Text me, and we'll get together again." He leaned in for even more kissing!
If we go out again, I'm going to tell him I have a cold.
See also: The Straight Boy's First Time; and 15 Rules for Hooking Up with Iphone Apps