The Wednesday after my return from Amsterdam, I'm at the oral surgeon's office, waiting to get a wisdom tooth removed.
It's a more delicate procedure than you might think.
No solid food or exercise for the next 48 hours.
On the third day, I can try jogging and eating normally, but nothing with granules (rice, potato chips) for a couple of weeks.
Antibiotics and two pain medications, one narcotic.
No "sucking" for at least a week. The oral surgeon probably means through a straw, but I imagine no oral, either.
While I am sitting in the waiting room, a woman comes in with her two sons. I can't tell which is older.
Brother #1 is not exactly a supreme beauty, but he's very, very cute: shorter than me, slim, with a round open face, short black hair, prominent eyebrows, high cheekbones, dimples, and square workman's hands.
He's wearing a black t-shirt, short pants (no bulge), and sandals.
He sits on the side of his mother farthest from me, immersed in nonstop texting.
Brother #2 is tall, with a square face, sharp features, glasses, and a slim physique. He's wearing a button-down shirt with a white undershirt visible underneath, slacks (no visible bulge), and orange shoes.
He gives me an obvious face-crotch-face cruising gaze, then sits down to fill out a form.
Remembering when I have been cruised at doctor's offices before -- at the sports doctor, while waiting for a colonoscopy -- I wonder if I can follow through and land a date or a hookup.
Problem: he's with his mother and brother. Not much maneuvering room.
Another problem: I'll be called any minute.
I check Grindr on my cell phone, on the off chance he's there. Nope.
Brother #2 finishes the form and drops it off at the receptionist's desk. I go up to pretend to ask where the bathroom is, and try to check his name.
I look back -- Oliver is watching me. He smiles.
Since I asked, I have to actually use the bathroom. It's out in the hallway, shared with the insurance agency next door -- one urinal, one toilet, one sink. I go in, pretend to urinate, turn to wash my hands -- and Brother #1 is there!
"Hi," I say, startled.
He stands there -- waiting for me, of course. I slide past him to the sink. He still stands there waiting, nervous.
"Your brother's getting some dental work done," I say. "That must be a bummer. No potato chips or pizza for a week."
"I guess." He's staring at the floor.
I brush past him again to get a paper towel, accidentally touching his shoulder.
He doesn't respond.
I go back into the waiting room. Oliver, the one who cruised me, is gone.
A moment later, my name is called.
I spend Thursday and Friday at home, eating ice cream, mashed potatoes, and protein shakes and not getting any exercise. On Saturday my friend and I go to the campus hangout for breakfast -- eggs ad pancakes, but no toast. I think I see Oliver at one of the other booths (it's a small town), but I'm not sure. He doesn't cruise me.
That afternoon, I go on Scruff to see if there's anyone nearby.
There isn't, but I have a message from one those blank profiles. Usually I ignore them, but today he says: "Hi, I saw you at the dentist the other day. I like older guys. Do you want to get together?"
It must be Oliver!
"Sure, I remember you!"
Bob is 19, a sophomore at the University studying economics, living with his parents and two brothers.
"I can't use my mouth for kissing or whatever for another few days," I tell him, "Can we make it Tuesday?"
I arrive at the gay-friendly coffee house 15 minutes early. Picking up a twink is no big deal, but this has a special feel to it, a sense of destiny.
I'm nervous about my sexual performance. I tried to eat a banana earlier, and could barely get my mouth around it. A small penis will probably be ok, but if he's hung, I'm out of luck.
He's ten minutes late. I'll give him another ten, and then chalk him up as a no-show.
The gay-friendly coffee house has two doors. I keep looking back and forth, pretending to be nonchalant.
Suddenly Brother #1 comes in through the far door! He stands by the pastry counter, looking at the scones and cookies.
When Oliver shows up, he'll see his brother, get skittish, and leave! I have to get him out of there!
I walk over and say "Hello. Remember me?"
He grins and grabs my shoulder "Sorry I'm late. I had to wait until Mom left. Is this really a gay place?"
Wait -- my date is with Brother #1?
The one who was busy texting in the waiting room, and ignored me in the bathroom, and never cruised at all?
A big surprise, but not unwelcome -- Bob was by far the cuter brother.
It will be a few more days before I can get my mouth around his uncut Bratwust, but he was fine with interfemoral and kissing.
And it turns out that his brother Oliver is bi. Maybe there's a brother three way in the future.
See also: The Weirdest Place to Pick Up a Twink