Spinning Around...

We had always chatted about him DJing, but I had never actually seen him play before that night. Dim lights and cigarette smoke set the ambiance inside. As I saw him setting up near the DJ booth, he looked at me with his charcoal dark eyes and smiled in surprise. "So it seems you've come to see me play," he said with a wink. I didn't want to tell him that it had been by coincidence that I happened to be there that night. "Well, tell me what you think about the music afterward," he slid back onto the stool that faced the turning-boards.
From where I was seated, I had the perfect view of him. I watched in awe as he effortlessly changed tracks and CDs; his fingers seemed to move in complete synchrony and harmony to the tunes that seeped out of the speakers, giving a soundtrack to the smokiness of the room. He was one with the music; he bobbed his head to the lyrics, moving his body to the rhythm as well. It's as though he was oblivious of the fact that there were others in the room; it was as though he was playing to himself. I smiled as I watched him spin a CD on his index finger and gingerly slid it back into its protective case. That was when our eyes locked onto one another.
My heart beat as fast as the drums that played in the background. He gave me one of his cocky, but sexy half smiles, and lifted his glass of red wine. He took a sip and finished it off with a wink. In that moment, I imagined what it must be like to be with him... in his bedroom, even if it was for just one night. I started to wonder what kind of music would he be playing while we explored each other intimately and physically. Soft rock? Barry White? No, a bit too cliched I suppose. House music? I hope not... As I sat there, drinking him with my eyes, I zoned out everything and everyone around me. It was just me and him... The DJ.
When our eyes met for the third time that night, I knew they were beckoning me towards him. As I made my way to the DJ booth, my eyes never left his. His dark, almost black eyes, bore into mine with an intensity I had never felt for a while. As I approached him, he stood up and placed his left hand on my lower back, pulling me closer to him.
"So, how are you liking the music so far?" He whispered in my ear. As he spoke, I could feel his hot breath on my neck. The feeling sent tingles up and down my spine and I knew that at any moment I could melt right into him, right there and then. I wanted him to undress me with his light fingers; I was willing to let down my guard just for that night and not worry about the consequences that might happen the next day. I struggled to speak, but I managed to say that I was enjoying the music. If only he knew that I had enjoyed his touch far more.
Once 1 a.m. had rolled on by, I walked towards the glass door exit when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I spun around and saw him. In the dim light, his face and eyes seemed ethereal; he was beautiful. "I just couldn't let you leave without saying goodbye," he leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on my cheek.
...And just like the records that he had spend the whole night spinning; he sent my head, and heart, in a tail-spin.

One Is The Lonliest Number...

I am sometimes afraid to admit this to anyone, let alone myself, but I am very lonely. The type of loneliness that I'm referring to is the kind that makes you feel as though there is a void inside of you that no matter how hard you try to fill, it just always seems to be there. Friends may provide temporary relief from that feeling of "emptiness"; however, at the end of the day it's just not enough. The truth is, even when I'm surrounded by friends, I still feel that bone-crushing sense of loneliness; one that, at times, just seems so overpowering that I start to zone-out. Plus, the fact that most of my closest friends are in relationships doesn't make it any easier on me. In fact, it just emphasizes how single I really am. As I sit across from my friends, a happy couple, I start to ask myself: "Why can't that be me? Why can't I find a guy who would love and care for me like that?" When I voice how lonely I truly am, my friends would roll their eyes and say, "Gary, you don't need a man to feel good about yourself. You don't need anyone to validate you." I would look at him and want to point out how hypocritical he sounded; he couldn't even go to the bathroom or make a simple decision without consulting his boyfriend first - but I decided to spare myself the drama and not bring that up; instead, I just nodded.
I've always made "excuses" to myself to why I'm still single: "I just can't find a guy who's emotionally mature for me," "The guys here are just too intimidated by how comfortable I am with expressing my sexuality," "Guys here just want sex and nothing else..." But I know what these all are, they are nothing but excuses; lame attempts from my part to try and rationalize how come I'm still desperately alone. At first, I blamed it all on myself: "I'm too picky," "I'm too needy and clingy," "I'm too feminine for some guys to handle," "I'm too this and too that..." However, I stopped victimizing myself when I realized that that is not true. Everyone deserves to be loved and appreciated; regardless of what and who they are.
"Oh, you'll find the right guy someday. Just be patient." I hate when people tell me that, it's like they are shutting me up. I feel like saying, "For how long must I wait? I'm tired of being patient! When is it going to be my turn to be happy? To gush about that guy that makes my heart beat a little faster? To want to share everything with him? When?" But just like I did with my friend, I just nod and pretend to be taking their "pearls of wisdom" to heart.
"Ugh, you have no idea how lucky you are to be single! I miss dating!" One of my friends actually said that to me recently and I wanted to smack him right in the face. "Lucky to be single?" He obviously has no idea what he's talking about. Dating in the gay community is like a tedious chore. I know dating, whether you're straight or gay, is awkward; but it's a whole different ball-game to us, homos. Because the community is so small, you're bound to know, have dated, or slept with a friend of his or an ex-boyfriend; the conversation doesn't always run smoothly; there is always this weird sexual question lingering in the air, 'Is he in it just for the sex?' 'Is he interested in something long-term?'. So no... I don't like dating, because I always end up more disappointed than hopeful.
The thing that really boggles my mind though is the fact that I'm not looking for something that is impossible to find. I just want a decent, normal (okay, that might be hard finding in Lebanon), intellectual guy who's interested in a stable, long-term, honest, monogamous relationship. In a nutshell, I just want someone who I can love and who can return that love to me. I feel as though I have all this bottled-up love inside of me that I want to share with someone, but I just can't seem to find. No wonder gay men adore their pets so much, because they displace all that pent-up love onto them. Who knew that finding someone to love unconditionally could be so hard? Plus, I'm not asking for much; a simple text message that says, "Hey, just thought I'd see how your day went so far," or a "I love you just because you're you," are more than enough for me.
I truly believe that everyone, including myself, are entitled to great relationships, ones that enforce the idea that we do need and deserve to be loved. So I end this post by saying, "To all those lonely single people out there, you're not alone..." I hope that was comforting enough for some of you!