The first case of gay-cest that I encountered occurred accidentally. I was dating this guy (Henry) for a few weeks and I had slept over his house. In my rush to get home and get to work I unintentionally left my cell phone behind. By the time I realized this I was already home and he was already at work. I did not know how to get in touch with him and then I realized that we were Facebook friends and realized that I could Facebook message him. My Facebook was currently deactivated so I had to reactivate it, and upon doing so realized that my current beau was friends with another one of my exes, and I guess the biggest kicker was that this ex (Brian) was the first man that I ever slept with. I don't know why that makes him matter more than pretty much all my other exes in the sexual arena, but for whatever reason it does. It also doesn't help that the way he dissolved things was kind of douchey, and I was slightly crushed.
Me being the curious, anxiety ridden fool that I am had to ask my Brian, who I became some sort of friends with, how he knew Henry and of course the answer was that they had also dated for a couple months, but I guess that's still better than "we fucked once in a church bathroom" (for the record I have yet to hear that as a response). I don't know it bothered me so much, but I could not get it out of my head to the point that I brought it up with Henry, a mistake I have learned from. Eventually, I got over this fact, but my ship with Henry did not sail long and I ended things a few weeks later.
Brian was the cause of another source of gay-cest in my life two years later. I was visiting my Best friend, Jaime, in Philly and we were gonna go out in the gay scene. I got there late on Saturday afternoon and we ordered in dinner and pre-gamed, hard. I believe the two of us polished off a bottle of pear Grey Goose and then some (I am perpetually broke and she's living off loans at the moment, so hard pre-gaming is almost always necessary.) We wandered around the Gayborhood, rather, aimlessly, because neither one of us knew where to go. Eventually we found a gay daddy to lead us to some promising bars. Finally, we wound up at Woody's. Woody's was a gay bar that had a bar downstairs and dancing upstairs. And to go upstairs you had to pay a cover. This was new to me because in New York most gay bars do not have a cover, dancing or no dancing, and the bars that do require a cover are usually obnoxious and not really my style.
To say the least Jaime and I were wasted off of our asses and I don't really remember much of the details of that night, but what I do remember was the DJ was awesome, Philly gays are NOT that attractive as a whole, and at some point we were grinding on each other on top of risers. At the end of the night Woody's was so packed that we migrated to the stage and continued dancing. it was at this point that a man began to grind on me, and when I turned around he was exceptionally good looking. He had a handsome face, a good build, and was tall. Now being the tall (6'3.5") glass of water that I am tall can get you a long way. i mean normally I won't fuck or date someone that is less than a 6, but if the person is 6'2 or above I'd probably lower myself to like a 4.5, and 4.5's can be pretty rough, but it is hard to find people taller than 6'0 in the North East.
Now Jaime had made me promise that I would not go home with anyone and when I was sober I was confident that this was do-able. I mean at this point in my life I had only gone home with two people from bars, and so I thought "what are the odds." Well ladies and gentlemen the odd were not in my favor. I'm pretty sure that after five minutes our tongues were down each other's throats and in another five minutes he was asking me home, and I should have said "no." The good friend in me wanted to say no, but the drunken whore in me wanted to say "FUCK YES!," and unfortunately the drunk whore won. I then made my best friend take a cab home, alone from a gay bar as I walked home with this beautiful guy to have what can only be described as really drunk lack-luster sex with a string bean with pretty terrible muscle tone. And he plays gay volleyball, so I kind of assumed he'd have a decent body under that lumberjack-ism button down shirt.
The next morning I awoke and we did the obligatory "I have so much to do today, I really need to get going." We exchanged numbers and he expressed interest in seeing me again when I was back in town. I said that I would. I took the cab ride of shame back to Jaime's and profusely apologized when I walked into Jaime's row house and she was pretty ok about it all. I then stalked him on FB and found him. At this point I again realized that Brian was a mutual friend and again, texted Brian (because I'm an idiot) to see how they knew each other. Brian responded fairly quickly that they were fuck buddies for a while over a year ago. This coupled with the fact that I texted my one night stand the obligatory 'had a lot of fun last night" text and he hadn't responded and that I was still uneasy about dicking Jaime over pushed my anxiety into overdrive and I was pretty much a mess. I don't know why I have horrible anxiety, and I know it makes me crazy sometimes, but generally I can keep my insanity to just thoughts that I know are crazy.
Thankfully this was the last time that Brian was a source of gay-cest for me, but gay-cest has continued to plague my life. I have gotten used to it and am proud to say that it no longer turns me into a ball of anxiety and awkwardness. I still would rather it didn't happen, but have come to accept the fact that it is a staple of the gay community.
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