The Pie Hole

IMG_2308I’m sitting in a Pie Shop with a cup of coffee, a time of the day when all my best ideas are sleeping. They curl against the corners of my mind like cats do in their favorite parts of the home. Some have chosen the bedroom where I store my most intimate memories.

One of them is of an ex-boyfriend that turned on the radio before taking a shower. He called me in, took my hand, and we danced. I remember my naked tummy wiggling against his before spinning around. It was one of the most joyful experiences I’ve ever had with a lover.

I’ve kept that moment underneath the bed in a shoebox. Next to it a sleeping cat lies. If I woke it then maybe a story about two boys that snuck around town in search of places to kiss would unravel. Some of the strands have sewn themselves into Closet Case posts. However, finding a new purpose for this memory will take work.

I’m a writer that’s in their infancy stage. Moments like this, coffee and pie, is the time that I like to reflect on my aspirations. They are lying all over the place but part of finding them is by looking back on old times. I think that what I have to gain this time from reflecting is that I love writing love stories.

Two people that are solely themselves when apart, but combine to make an ultimate personality. That’s what I like to read about.

Until next time,



Closet Case Part 2- Lover’s Wall

Welcome back reader! This is the second installment of my Closet Case series. I meant for this to be a posted a day earlier. After this there will be one more installment to the Closet Case series. Enjoy!

I lifted my leg as far up on the ledge as I could without losing balance. The trashcans beside me smelled dangerously like cat pee. One slip of my foot and I’d be the new kitty litter. This was the first time I ever snuck into someone else’s house, not to mention a boyfriend’s! However, it was kind of “romantic” that two lovers had to meet in secret by a window. I just hoped I didn’t ruin the experience by falling.

“Sit on the ledge. I’ll help you down.” He said. So I sat down with both legs dangling on opposite sides of the wall. He came to the window and held me by the waist. I chucked my other leg over but  with too much force. The two of us stumbled into the bedroom, over dirty laundry, beer cans, and books before tumbling onto the mattress. It smelled just like the trash outside. I shot up and brushed my body off as if a thousand ants were crawling over it.


“Settle down dude! My parents will hear you.” He said quietly. I looked up to see him closing the door and locking it with a bolt. The bolt was there because the knob was missing! After stuffing it with a sock my boyfriend came over to give me a kiss. One peck on the lips before I put up my hands in protest. There was underwear piled around the room like maybe he organized them according to their cartoon character, but after collecting them he decided to do something else. Like drinking. Bottles and cans were the common knick-knack on bookshelves, nightstands, and windowsills.

“What’s the matter?” He said. A goofy smile was spread across his lips. It was the normal expression he had but now I wondered if maybe it was because of the alcohol.

“Oh. Umm….nothing.” I said. I clenched my gut and sat down on the bed. He came down with me. I wanted to kiss him but there my thoughts were stopping me. Was he drunk every time we met? Could he not express affection without being intoxicated? He touched the inside of my leg with his fingers. I watched them try to nuzzle their way in like a bee crawling into a flower. If he was tipsy then I didn’t know what this meant.


“There’s this movie I want you to watch.” He said. “It’s an old Sci-Fi set in the dystopian future where the robots rule over the humans.” He got up and walked over to an old VCR. Inside there was a tape all ready to play. I looked around the room a second time. Underneath the dust in a corner of the room was an entire layer of cassette tapes. Some of them I recognized from copies in my living room while others I had never heard of. I suddenly remembered why I liked this guy so much. While the rest of the world had moved onto using downloads and DVDS this guy was vintage.

He came and sat down next to me but this time I had no apprehension about opening myself up to him. I snug my head under his arm and watched the movie, at least for the next five minutes. I needed him to be closer. I tired pulling him on top of me but before I could he shut off all the lights. Afterwards he mounted me, slid his legs back so that we were chest against chest, mouth against mouth. There was indeed alcohol on his breath. I still let him kiss me though. I didn’t care what it took for him to get past some of his fears because somehow he took me away from mine. I was the boy that snuck out of his parents house at night, to an abandoned pool, to a lover’s window.




Closet Case Part 1

Hello readers! This week I thought I’d try something different with my blog. I wanted to share my experience of a relationship I had with a closet-case (a person that is not out with their sexuality). This story means a lot to me not only because of the person I shared it with but also the things I learned about myself from it. Hope you enjoy!




I once dated a guy who was in the closet. We had known each other for a number of years before he came out with, “I can’t stop thinking about you.” Until that moment those words were only a daydream to me. All through High School I fantasized our time together reading Sci-Fi books, making out in the backseat of his car, having sex in the middle of the day. At last he was telling me that this could all come true.


The next day I greeted him at my front door with a kiss. His lips were like two soft plums that I crushed between my teeth. When I released him I said, “The house is empty.” He smiled while beginning to push me towards the bedroom. I wanted so much to ask him about the realization of his feelings. Ever since he allowed me to read his short stories I had known I liked him. He was this creative beacon that had so much to say but never underestimated reading. So I pulled him all the way to my bed, laid him down, and unzipped his pants.

He was bigger than I imagined. In the weeks to come I learned that he was actually more than just a writer. Every night around eleven o’clock when my parents went to sleep I snuck out to meet him. We met on the back porch of an abandoned house where no one could find us. Our bodies sat on the edge of a hollow pool talking about our dreams which were to work in the comic book industry or making hit records. I didn’t play any instruments unlike him who had a drum set, keyboard, and three guitars. When he first told me this all I wanted was to kiss him for being so talented. So I asked him if I could come over to his house some time. In all the years we had known each other I had never visited.


“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He said. I felt like he had thrown a sledgehammer into my head. I didn’t understand why he could share the most intimate parts of him but not his house.

“Why not?” I said. The only response I got was that of the night bugs. Their song wasn’t soothing so much as listening to a fork scrape across a chalkboard. I wanted to cover my ears but what if he responded. I needed to know his reason.

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea. Maybe one day when no one is home I can have you over.” He said. It was my turn to be silent but I wasn’t thinking of something to say. I touched my cheek which was hot but not because of the humidity. I felt ashamed of myself for thinking that any of my daydreams could come true. How could they when our time together had to spent in privacy. I’d never be able to go for coffee with him or hold his hand on a dinner date, because I wasn’t allowed.

“Okay.” I said. The pool might have been empty of water but my eyes were overflowing. It had been a mistake to meet him here tonight. I shouldn’t have been sneaking out in the first place. There should have never been a kiss! “I’m going home.” I said, getting up to leave.Couple-holding-hands-Infs187

“Don’t go.” He said, grabbing my hand. I pulled it away but when I did he came up with it. We stood face to face and suddenly kissing. I buried my nose into his neck so that I could get high off his body scent. I couldn’t leave him alone now.

We both crowded the ground with our bodies before finishing together. I had my lips on his when all of a sudden he said the word, “Baby”. This might not have been the kind of relationship I always fantasized. It certainly wasn’t the one I would go running home to tell my mom about but it was indeed a relationship.

Out from the back of the house he held my hand, carrying it over the tall overgrown lawn grass. Nearby both our cars were waiting. The night was ending and I didn’t know where we stood with one another.

“Come over. You can sneak through my window.” He said. I nodded. This could be fun and it was kind of romantic to think about.

“See you soon.” I said before kissing him and then leaving.


“Holiday” Part 2

My first instinct was to go after Daytona whom was being dragged further away from me by a random Fag-Hag. Unfortunately, this wasn’t the first time something like this had happened to me in a gay club. I am very grateful for the Straight Women that have accompanied me in my ventures into the gay world, however, they all know when to back off. This would have been one of those times.

Night club dancing party

I decided to stay put. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from this situation is that if someone wants to be dragged away then that is exactly what happens. So long Daytona! I started to dance and enjoy the music. The vibrant pulse filled my body to the point where I put my hands up over my head. This felt like Gay Days.

“I GOTA DRINK!” a voice said. I turned around and saw the friend I came with. Indeed, he had a drink in hand but that wasn’t the only thing attached to him. A short man Indian man in a Polo shirt was who I guess supplied him.

We all began dancing and having more drinks. The song “Pompeii”played overhead while my friend and I talked about New York City. There isn’t any place like it in the world but that doesn’t mean we couldn’t enjoy the chaos outside of it.

“I’m leaving with him!” My friend said, pointing to the small Indian man. I asked him if that was a good idea since he was also drunk. He assured me they knew each other prior to this occasion.

“Take care and call me, text me, whatever, when you get to where you’re going.” I said. My friend smiled before hugging me. I might not have left that night with a boy in hand. Hell, I didn’t even leave with a phone number but this was definitely a night worth having.



“Holiday” Part 1


Gay days in Orlando has always been one of my favorite event. Once a year Disney celebrates the GLBTQ community by advertising their parks gay. There are tons of parades, parties, and of course in my case there are men. Lots of them. Every facet of gay can find a place where they belong and for someone like me that’s important. I’m curious as to what kind of gay cliche I fit into.

Wednesday night I decided to go to Pulse with a friend. It’s the same club where I met The Cop. I walked into the club feeling the pulse of the music. It was like a thousand shots of adrenaline pumped into my veins. I felt sexy that when I leaned over the counter to the bartender I gave him a wink. He smiled and passed me a Whiskey Sour.

“I can’t dance without one.” My friend said, pointing to my cup. So he went off in search of someone to buy him one while I made my way to the Drag Show. albino white


“Welcome Ladies and Gentleman to Gay Days Orlando! Please welcome our first star tonight Adrien Gemini!!” The announcer said. The Queen pulled herself onto the stage and began her performance of “Just Dance” by Lady Gaga. The Monster Ball Version! I’m not sure if everyone knew this fact but I did and it sent chills down my spine. Adrien Gemini is one of my favorite Drag Queens because her performances are about the artistry of music in pop culture, as well as the love for her community.

I watched in awe until there was a tap on my shoulder.

“Do you wanna get in front.” A guy said to me. I looked down and saw a 5’4 ft Latino standing in front of me. He was cute although not my usual type. I usually am interested in broader/taller men but it was Gay Days and why not open myself up to new possibilities.

“You don’t like the show?” I said.

“No, I just can’t see.” He said. I continued the conversation by asking if he was in Orlando for Gay Days. He shook his head and explained that him and his friend coincidentally decided to come to Pulse that night from Daytona. I looked over his shoulder and saw his Queen-eque friend. To me these kinds of people are the easiest to stereotype. He had his chin held high with lips pursed, standing tall like a show-dog.

“That’s cool.” I said and introduced myself. He did the same, but I’ll just call him Daytona. We continued talking casually until I whispered in his ear,”You’re very sexy.”


He shook his head and smiled. He turned around to continue watching the Drag Show while I inched closer, putting my hand up on the wall over his head. I felt in control of the situation so when he turned back around we kissed. Soft and nice. It was nice for two reasons. One because I was kissing a cute guy and the other because I felt like I had made myself feel sexy by making the first move.

We continued watching the Drag Show with my arms wrapped comfortably around his waist. When the music began and the Queens disappeared we danced. Our hips swayed close to one another until I spun him so we could kiss again. It was just as good as the first time except lasted longer. I went a step further and kissed his ear. Looking back, this action was completely out of my element but when he didn’t resist I did it again.

Eventually we spun around the dance floor and faced the stage together. Next to it was a large speaker where a blonde girl was sitting on top. She waved to Daytona and pushed herself off. I stepped back one just to give him his privacy. Maybe they knew one another. She pulled him close to dance until suddenly pulling him off the dance floor and into the crowd. What. The. Hell!!!

(To Be Continued…)





The Chemical Whip

To my fellow readers, I want to apologize for not posting anything this past week. The truth is that I took the time instead to do some self-reflecting. I really want to grow this blog into something more because I believe it has the potential. I see it as an form of self-expression for both my past and future. So I’ve been collecting some new material that I think will broaden the experiences for both you and me. Until I feel it is the time to unveil such material I will still write my adventures in romance, as well as continuing my Stepping Out series. To tie you over until then here is the rest of my Cop story…


The weeks passed with Peter and I following the same routine. It would be me sleeping over and in the morning going home. Communication between us was still strictly physical. He was the man I imagined wanting but somehow the fantasy seemed boring. I wanted chemistry that had words, ideas, and sexuality. These things are very important to me in a relationship. The word “relationship” though was still the the furthest thing from Peter’s mind.

“I’m just looking for someone with no drama.” Peter told me one day when discussing his ex-boyfriend (again). I understood what he meant. The gay community isn’t exactly a drama-free zone as it’s partly known for having Divas & Drag Queens. Apparently his ex-boyfriend was one of the two. Knowing this I felt like I had a chance, because I am anything but drama.

Later that same day I found myself in Peter’s bed again. We were in our underwear kissing. Rolling our bodies from one side of the bed to the other. Beneath my fingers the muscle of his back rippled and inside I felt sexy. Sexy because this was a man that wanted to be held. Our chemistry was in kisses. They weren’t sporadic but instead like an electric whip. The charge would begin from the back of his head and then pulse into the back of mine.


My head was pounding so I rolled us over to where I was on top. He asked me if I wanted to have sex. I didn’t say anything. There wasn’t enough of myself to give that I knew would be returned. That was when I knew there was a question rising out of me.

“I do, but I want to know something first. I know it’s bad timing and I’m really sorry. I need to know though. Do you like me?” I asked. I felt his belly sigh and knew what was coming.

“Well yes I like you but…” He said. That was all I needed to know that there was nothing more to give.

“It’s okay. I know it’s bad timing. It’s just… whenever I come over this is all we seem to do.” I said. He agreed and apologized if things seemed that way. We were just two people caught in the moment. Like a needle my question popped the bubble. I climbed off him so he could hold me. We fell asleep and in the morning I said goodbye.


The Touch of Romance

Peter the Cop continued to invite me over to his house on weeknights. We would watch TV, sometimes talked, but usually cuddled in bed. I still enjoyed holding his hard masculine body in my arms while he slept. In the gay community men usually seek partners that are as manly as them, if not more so. Hardly had I ever come across a guy like Peter who enjoyed sports and my company. It’s not that I’m disinterested in athletics but my attention is usually concerned with art and books.

“You have such beautiful skin.” He said to me one night. He was laying on my chest and kissing my hands. I humbly accepted the compliment. It’s one I get often but it means more when coming from an attractive guy. I kissed him, inviting some play time before sleep. We still didn’t have sex. In the morning while getting dressed he made another compliment about my skin. He expressed jealousy about the natural tan I had.


“Not like me. I’m a gringo.” He said. I paused from tying my shoe. I didn’t know what to say. Even though I’m Latino the terms like “gringo,” are very foreign to me. I grew up in a biracial household where my parents were Caucasian and my brother also Hispanic. The Spanish Language was minor in learning while growing up. Present day, whenever guys try to pick me up with words like “Papi” or “Chico”, I cringe. It feels uncomfortable in so many ways.

I ended up not saying anything in response to Peter’s lingo. We went for a drive. We talked about what Orlando had to offer the gay community. In truth it has a lot more than my hometown which was a single bar. Here there are clubs, cafes, baths, and art shows that all affiliate with GLBT. However, no matter how much bigger this community is every guy still knows one another’s business. A city doesn’t seem to have much to offer after repairing a couple of broken hearts.

Peter went on to tell me that a lot of places were haunted with memories of his previous relationship. My romantic feelings started then to dwindle. In that past I’ve dated a guy who was haunted by an ex (as long as four years). In the end I learned that I shouldn’t have gotten involved. You can’t help someone move on if they aren’t ready. Peter explained that their relationship hadn’t been a healthy one. The two men had gone back and forth with one another numerous times until finally Peter called it quits. I didn’t ask too many questions as I wanted to enjoy what was left of the ride. Eventually Peter said, “We still keep in touch though.”

Later that same day, I was back in my own bed thinking. Peter and I are spending time together but is he really there? As far as I could tell he wasn’t. My proof was that our time together was spent either sleeping or touching one another. Granted we never have sex but I don’t want to be some Latin-bed-warmer. I was angry and confused. I felt used but at the same time it wasn’t like I was protesting the situation. In fact, some of the times I invited myself over. I realized that I was being brash. It was inconsiderate of me to think such thoughts about a guy who respected my intimate boundaries. I guess that I was having trouble respecting his romantic ones.