You Don’t Know My Name

‘Cause did I mention (oh) You bout’ to miss a good thing
And you’ll never know how good it feels To have, all my affection
And you’ll never get a chance to experience, my lovin’ (oh)
‘Cause my lovin’ feels like

You Don’t Know My Name – Alicia Keys

“El Salvador?” (No)
“Colombia?” (No)
“Russia?!” (No)

He had just stumbled across the room. A nice build, cute face, dark features…clearly plastered. We locked eyes and I introduced myself. We were going through my typical icebreaker, but I clearly couldn’t guess the country of origin.

He smirked.


“Oh NOs!” I thought.

I have a few Peruvian gay men in my life. I stopped dating Latino men a long time ago; the gender role bullshit was a bit much for me. But he was sexy and I wanted in. It was already established he liked “chocolate.” I knew what this would turn into…a mental grappling match. I cupped his ass and went to work.

I don’t usually like to like to get in someone’s personal space within minutes of meeting, but whispering in each other’s ears turned into testing out the merchandise. I retuned to my friend.

“You getting out of here?” (he smiled)

“Yeah. I’ll talk to you later.”

Outside Peru called an Uber. He lived in Queens (natch) and we were both eager to put in work. So eager it turned full make out session in front of the bar. He reached into my pants and smiled.

“Te gusta?” (I continued to suck on his neck)

A botched incident with a Puerto Rican a few weeks earlier had me paranoid. I figured I’d ask.

“Do you have condoms and lube at home?”

He sighed. “I don’t like to use condoms…or lube. But you have no need to worry.” (If I had to guess he was Poz and undetectable.) We keep making out, but we both know neither of us is going to get what we want tonight.

It’s so frustrating to meet someone cute, have them be a good kisser (which he was) and have the house of cards fall apart over the penetration particulars. I really don’t want to be on PrEP, but I can’t keep turning away good ass like this. We tussle some more, but he won’t budge. We won’t be staying for the movie. Will have to settle for the previews.

The Uber eventually arrives. We get one more tongue battle in (with UberPool passengers and driver observing). I managed to have him drunk dial me before he leaves.

The next day I reach out. He was kind of a mess, and it would take weeks to get on PrEP and properly breed and seed him, but I was hoping we could keep in contact.

He didn’t remember anything from the night before. I estimate he was drinking for five/six hours before we even met. Sigh.

Oh well. I didn’t have the patience to recreate the night for him. But I’ll keep his number. Something tells me this won’t be the last time we meet.

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