Guy #1, the man at the bar: Shortly after winter break, a man invited me to meet him at The Press. He was sweet, but when I got there he was already three beers in, and I had to catch up — surely enough, two drinks later, I was feeling cozy and ready to violate Leviticus 18:22.
We headed to my dorm, and from there things were … alright. We kissed, but drunk me wanted more — although nothing more happened. He left for bed while I silently sought an outlet for my lechery.
CECIL’S TAKEAWAY: If you want to enjoy an actual date, and not just a hookup, don’t get trashed! Stay sober, or at least know your limits!
Guy #2, the rebound: To save face, I will assert that this was definitely NOT the same night. Anyway, after Guy #1 left, I wasted no time messaging someone I knew only wanted sex. He came (then came again) in 20 minutes. It was fine. I can’t finish around other people, and so while I didn’t cum, he embarked on a vague rant about his friends “falling in love with him.” I listened, therapizing (as I do), until he left and never contacted me again.
CECIL’S TAKEAWAY: Be patient. Even a shameless hookup can double as a psychology practicum!
Guy #3, an old friend: The next evening I was eating sushi and watching Netflix when a quasi-friend hit me up. This was somebody I’d chatted with online senior year of high school, and at the time talking to a Real-Life Gay carried an excitement that bordered on romantic.
Despite a messy one-night affair two years ago, nothing ever came to fruition. Regardless, he came over, we watched Netflix and made out. All I could think about was how convinced I’d been that he and I would eventually have a relationship; yet there I was, feeling nothing much.
CECIL’S TAKEAWAY: Desires are temporary; the things that feel right can change with time.
Guy #4, the fake British boy: Two days later, a past hookup messaged me, an absolute sweetheart despite having lived in the U.K. with no accent to show for it. He came with Raising Cane’s, we ridiculed “The Texas Chain Saw Massacre” and, ultimately, we fucked.
Surprisingly, I topped, soon feeling guilty that all I could think was, “Aw, he’s enjoying it; how cute,” as if anal were a petting zoo. It was technically perfect, yet my feeling dwindled. Were my inability to accept good things, my unfortunate habit of developing feelings for emotionally unavailable/straight men and my occasional self-hatred getting in the way of something great? Probably. But since therapy is expensive, I’ll reach for a takeaway.
CECIL’S TAKEAWAY: Just because something is perfect doesn’t mean it’s perfect for you.
Guy #5, the tall cutie I really liked: I saw my crush (not Guy #5) on Grindr, and we arranged to hook up. I then chatted with someone I’d seen around (Guy #5) and he invited me to his dorm. I went in without a care. The promise of visiting my crush (see Guy #6) in 24 hours dispelled any unease, and it was one of the most pleasant hookups I’ve had in a while.
One outstanding memory is me telling a dead baby joke to kill his erection, so he could go to the bathroom. I’m sure it wouldn’t have gone as well had I put up a false front and presented myself as more “desirable.” It was refreshing and showed me that I’m enough. Thanks, Guy #5.
CECIL’S TAKEAWAY: You don’t have to try so hard! Sometimes things fall into place when least expected.
Guy #6, my (former) crush: Sophomore year, I saw him and died. He is HOT, “the kind of boy literary fags write sonnets to” (William S. Burroughs’ words). I never thought I had a chance, until last semester when we matched on Tinder.
Nothing remarkable happened then, but at last the Eve of the Hookup was upon us. Things went fine, but certainly not everything I’d built up in my imagination. I assumed that this encounter would be perfect, that he would sweep me off my feet. And despite it not being everything I’d hoped, I still wanted more! The mind is cruel.
CECIL’S TAKEAWAY: Pretty people do NOT have it all! Also, know what you want out of a situation, and recognize when you might be aspiring for the unattainable.
Guy #7, it’s a cruel world: I decided to give things one last shot, to end the week with a figurative bang (RE: I can’t cum). So I messaged someone I’d had a genuine connection with the previous semester. Our last encounter had been cut short, and so this time we picked up where we left off.
It was … honestly, not great. It was enjoyable until things became sexual, and I don’t think it’s just because he gave me a dismal blowjob. I realized, finally, that I had gotten everything wrong. I enjoyed intimacy, not sex. It just took one last shitty encounter for that to finally sink in.
CECIL’S TAKEAWAY: Sometimes you want more than sex, and that’s okay!
Concluding remarks: My path to self-discovery involved roundabouts, shitty lube and tons of introspection, but I came out with a better understanding of what I want from my interactions with men. And so, on the Seventh Day, I ended my work and gave men a rest.
Hello everyone, my name’s Cecil the Sagehoe and I’m a mess. Although this article may not reflect it, I am trying to get my shit together. My feathers are blue.