“Your outside is gorgeous, Raven, but your insides are dark and nasty. And I don’t like you”
– Tatianna –
Sometimes, life feels unfair when we stumble upon a person who seems to have it all. I’m sure you’ve all had one of those discussions with someone about which famous person you would wanna swap bodies with for a day or things you would do/buy if you won the lottery. My point is that sometimes, we’re completely misled by the exterior of someone that we disregard the true character behind all their facades. On Instagram, for instance, it’s incredibly easy to hide your nasty attitude or past traumas behind inspiring flowery quotes you copy-paste from Pinterest. We often forget that Instagram can be a heavily curated representation of someone’s life. I’m aware of how cliché this might sound, but we really need to stop judging a book by its cover.
It’s often difficult for me to concentrate on my finals as my roommates and I didn’t go to the same school, creating an unsynchronized partying atmosphere in our casa. So you can imagine how annoyed I was when my roommates decided to throw a house party with their friends the night before my math exam, which I was gonna take in less than 24 hours. I mean… I could’ve filed a noise complaint and it wouldn’t be something that’s totally off-brand for a petty bitch like me to do. But instead, I was frantically looking for an escape because I just wanted a peaceful night; the last thing I needed before my exam was an explosive fight with my roommates. Because it’s almost 2 AM, I was running out of options and I ultimately resorted to Grindr. Essentially, I just needed an excused to get the fuck out of my apartment. Fuck logic, right?
If you’ve been on Grindr at 2 AM, you know it’s the prime time for the freaky gays to come out, so I tried my best in keeping my expectations low. But hey, desperate moments call for desperate measures, right? So I messaged every single guy I deemed fuckable in desperation, hoping for a reply from the endless “hey there” I had sent. I would like to think that I generally have a high standard in men, but I was aware that it’s 2AM and beggars can’t be choosers.
After two minutes of mindlessly bothering guys on Grindr, I felt a vibration coming from my phone and I knew exactly what’s happening; out of the countless guys I sent a generic message to, someone had finally replied to my subtle and desperate plea. When I looked at my phone, I was astounded. “Holy shit, this guy is ridiculously hot,” I thought; I wish I could show you his face because this guy was insanely attractive. To this day, he’s still in my top 5 list of the most attractive guys I have had an adult slumber party with. He’s a tall and muscular guy with wavy brunette hair that could make most gays (and girls) drop to their knees in a heartbeat. Immediately, I had some thoughts in mind:
“Out of the vast pool of bangable guys in Los Angeles, I’m his best option?! Have I been beating myself down for no good reason all this time? Am I really that pretty?! “
“I could just invite this guy to my apartment and match the loud thumping bass noises from the subwoofer with my obnoxiously loud moans. It’s time for me to go viral!”
“There’s no way a hot guy like him would go for a sad-looking twink like me. He’s DEFINITELY a catfish. But maybe he’s just super desperate? After all, it is 2AM and most guys are either sleeping or getting blackout drunk in WeHo.”
At that moment, I could really care less; what I really needed was not to spend any more minute listening to the incomprehensible drunken noises from my living room. So I put on my midnight hoeing look, hastily walked down the hallway of my living room, and slammed the front door as hard as I could to indicate my exasperation toward my roommates and their fellow partygoers. So much for being passive-aggressive, huh?
I arrived at the InterContinental Hotel in Century City and I strutted down the hotel lobby at 3 AM feeling like an expensive prostitute. Fully expecting to be catfished by this guy, I rang his doorbell to prove that my gut was right. I know… my logic was way off that night. After waiting for what seemed like an hour, he finally opened the door and my jaw dropped to the floor.
Holy. Shit. This. Guy. Is. Fucking. Gorgeous.
This guy wasn’t even trying his hardest to look good as he’s only wearing a t-shirt and a pair of basketball shorts but he looked fucking bomb.com in them. To say that I was ecstatic is an understatement; It’s the same satisfying feeling you get when you see a movie adaptation of your favorite novel and it doesn’t suck, except, in this case, I’ll be the one doing the sucking *wink*. It felt like I just won the late night Grindr lottery.
We didn’t immediately jump into exploring our reproductive organs as we were laying in bed in an attempt to have normal interactions between two human beings. I was really surprised at how smart this guy was; he’s got a Ph.D. in Applied Math and he knew exactly what I was talking about when I told him about my Probability Theory exam I gonna take in less than 12 hours. I guess there’s something about a hot, wealthy, and smart guy that gives me an instant boner (I guess you can call me a sapiosexual?) Being a hopeless romantic that I was, I was immediately transported to the fantasy land and I thought, “maybe he is the one and this could be the beginning of something magical”. I was truly feeling my Pretty Woman fantasy.
I had more reasons to celebrate my luck as I pulled down his pants and was greeted by a magnificent penis that matched the beauty of its owner. I certainly wasted no time to demonstrate my critically-acclaimed oral talent and he seemed to be nonchalantly enjoying my oral treatment. Feeling like I had a long way to go before he reached the climax, I finally took my long-deserved break and I decided to lay on the unoccupied side of his bed. This was when I realized that something was off. I noticed that he didn’t seem bothered to return the favor as he was just casually laying on his back, showing no indication of interest in showing any appreciation for my physique. I mean… I’m not one to expect my favor to be reciprocated; it’s not like we signed a non-disclosure agreement and laid out all the obligations and rights for all parties involved. With that said, I’m 100% sure that my BJ was fucking spectacular and I just wish he had validated my enthusiasm.
Just when I thought things could not get worse, the unimaginable thing happened. In the middle of our post-blowjob chat, he, out of nowhere, ambushed me and told me:
“There’s something wrong with the way you pronounce some words. I really think you should go take an English speech class.”
What. The. Fuck.
Don’t get me wrong… although I usually get pretty defensive when I’m being critiqued, I’m all for constructive criticisms. But really, bitch?! First of all, we were in the middle of a late-night Grindr rendezvous. The last time I checked, my TOEFL score wasn’t a requirement to suck a guy’s dick. Secondly, why did he think he’s entitled to give me an unsolicited criticism on something that’s completely irrelevant to the activity we were participating in? And finally, he had only known me for what… 50 minutes? Even my closest friends wouldn’t dare to make a snarky comment like that, at least not before downing three shots of tequila.
At that moment, I was torn between coming back to my apartment to face the aftermath of my temper tantrum or sucking it up (pun very much intended) and continuing my toxic relationship with this guy for another hour. Being a gay guy with extremely low self-esteem, I decided to go with the latter option, secretly hoping his hurtful remark was a one-time gig. So I kept on sucking and sucking until my jaw was slowly accustomed to his girth, trying to prove my worth to the same guy who clearly thought he’s way above me. I thought, “hey, if he thinks I’m good at giving him pleasure, at least he’ll appreciate me more and want to date me?” Didn’t I tell you all that my logic was way off that night?
I ended up staying at his hotel room until 7.30 AM and I left shortly after he finally took some initiatives in helping himself to ejaculate. Let’s just say that I was physically present but my mind was elsewhere as I was clearly over his beauty; if anything, I was relieved that he finally orgasmed as I wanted to leave his place out of physical and mental exhaustion. Needless to say, I felt like a piece of shit during my entire drive back home (and the $36 valet parking fee only added insult to my injury). I even convinced my friend to get breakfast with me at 8 AM to make myself feel better, which, if you know me personally, is something I rarely do because I’m a night owl. As we were downing our matcha bubble tea, we both agreed that I was clearly dicknotized.
Life is fair after all; it’s such a shame that the Man above didn’t bless this gorgeous guy with the gift of a personality. I just hope this can serve as a lesson for y’all; it’s never worth devaluing yourself trying to achieve your idea of perfection if it scrapes away your core values. In the end, a happy relationship, unlike your rectum, is a two-way street and in order for both of you to respect each other, you need to start respecting yourself first.
SquirtTale 