As the weather starts to simmer down, cuffing season begins to settle in. I swap my summer clothes for something warmer. It is in those moments, I catch myself thinking about someone to hold and reminiscing on the summer that has come and gone… Filled with such promise, anonymity, and heartbreak… Let’s get into it shall we.
At the beginning of July, I had the honor to be a bridesman for one of my best friend’s weddings.Something about seeing two people vow their lives to one another gave me hope in finding someone (or some people) who “match my weirdness” and ultimately build a life with. And after recovering from my horrible 24 hour Hinge date, I was ready to get back on the app and give some people a chance.
Days later I liked a guy’s Hinge profile and he liked me back. I’ll refer to him as Sam. He was a gaymer, a recent Phoenix transplant, with a sweet smile. We started messaging the next day. It was like there was no one else to talk to or no work to be done besides getting to learn more about one another. The conversation was intelligent, fun, and at times… “too hot to handle.” By the following day, we agreed on a sleepover date at the end of the week.
The first date: Sam was a gentleman with a cocktail waiting for me by the time I commuted down to the South Bay. Dinner was ordered and all we really had time for was just talk. The new relationship energy (or initial spark) was strong with this one. We chatted about his life on the sofa, but all I really wanted to do was make out with him. I was intoxicated (double entendre) with this guy I’d known for less than a week. While patience is not my strong suit, I persisted. We made it all the way through dinner and a show before jumping his bones.
The next morning, he did all those intimate things that made me feel special. It was quite cinematic with those prolonged gazes into each other’s eyes underneath the sheets, morning coffee snuggles on the sofa, and several goodbye kisses before actually leaving. I couldn’t get enough of it… We made loose plans to see each other the following weekend, but they weren’t solidified until I won a lottery for the play: Harry Potter And The Cursed Child. The show was on my list and he seemed like a perfect candidate to accompany me. At this point, I hadn’t yet disclosed about my divorce or my polyamorous lifestyle choice. Due to people’s previous reactions, I wanted to find the “right” time to tell him. Though there is never a right time to be vulnerable, he made it easier.
On the second date, in an Uber to the dinner Sam asked, “are you friends with your most recent ex?”
He knew I was with my ex for 5 years. I replied with, “We aren’t. I think he’s still processing everything. But I would like to be at some point. I’ve always wanted to be friends with exes because as long as the relationship didn’t implode, I don’t see no reason not to. Among the 7 billion+ people on this planet, I made a connection with one person, and whether it doesn’t work out for whatever reason… (ie romantically, sexually, emotionally,) I still made a genuine connection with that person and would like to keep that bond.”
Sam nodded and told me he was best friends with his ex. Maybe it was a combination of the pre-dinner cocktail and my openness that made him feel comfortable to say what came next.
He informed me he was with his ex partner for 12 years and married for 8 of those. What I was scared to disclose, he explained with no hesitation. I felt a weight lift off of me and I could be transparent with him. This was the first person I didn’t have to explain the divorce process to or get a sympathy “sorry” from. The unspoken understanding was enough for me to let my walls down. I gave a brief synopsis of my last relationship and how it led to polyamory. He discussed his experience with non-monogamy and somehow it made me feel better. The show was amazing and we both enjoyed ourselves. Later that night we went out to the Castro and took our first selfie together.
For our third date, it was rather spontaneous. The following Wednesday, he asked what my plans were for Saturday. I had a bridal shower in San Jose that afternoon. He suggested an EDM show and after show at the Midway in San Francisco, dependent on his finances after paying off some bills. I was down because one of my favorite cousins was also going to be there.
As we entered the venue, we got drinks before checking out the various rooms and vendors. The music festival was a fundraiser for a group that goes to Burning Man every year. Of those vendors, there was a funky cape shop that piqued our interest. After trying on a couple capes, we both decided to buy one for ourselves. The logic behind it was that it would be a good investment piece for EDC music festival next year, other festivals, and Burning Man because we both expressed interest in it. I know it might have been too early but I said we should do Burning Man together.
After the first act ended, we made our way around the corner to get in line for the after party. Once inside, I was able to locate my cousin and her friend. To meet family can somewhat be scary to anyone but I gave Sam the benefit of the doubt. To my surprise, I had nothing to worry about. The combination of alcohol and party favors acted as a perfect social lubricant. We partied and eventually took a photo on the dance floor with all of us.
The fun lasted as long as it could before a drastic life change occurred.
One afternoon Sam messaged, “So I got some great news today, and some not so great news today. Which one you wanna hear first. Lol.”
“Not so great news first. Oh god I am nervous lol.”
“I’ll actually combine them into one bit of news. I got a promotion today! Well new responsibilities with more money, which starts in October. Our org bought a new campus that used to belong to HP (the printing company). And our entire team is transferring to the new campus… But it’s in San Diego.”
“Omg congrats on the promotion!!! That’s really exciting, and who doesn’t love more money? San Diego is a lovely city and only a 2 hour flight away! Sounds like we have to make the most of it before you leave lol.”
“Yes we will. Note, this doesn’t mean I wanna start talking less.”
“Duly noted. So what do you envision for us moving forward? We can also talk more about this in person too.”
“At this point, I’m enjoying us getting to know each other and spending time together. Of course moving throws another thought in the process, but that’s still a little more than two months away. So for now I’m enjoying going with the flow. You? And yes we can talk more in depth in person too.”
“Me? I didn’t intentionally have a dramatic pause, just trying to finish up
some work. I will respond shortly… I’m also enjoying us getting to know one another and the time spent together. I agree about going with the flow and taking it one day at a time,” I replied.
While this was not an easy pill to swallow, what else was I supposed to do? “Going with the flow” was not in my wheelhouse. Though a part of me wanted me to guard myself moving forward, another part wanted to be vulnerable, allow myself to enjoy the moment, and the uncertainty. I’ve always been an individual that is in-tune with their emotions. With Sam, I agreed to his terms because it left the potential of something more.
The following week we started a routine. I had gay softball Thursday evenings, followed by sleep overs at his place after, and work from home from my parents’ house Fridays. He made it to my first softball game. And though I can’t remember if we won or lost the game, I didn’t care. I was ready for some relaxation and “getting to know one another.”
On our way home he suggested Buffalo Wild Wings (BWW) for dinner. I mistakenly said yes, thinking it was WingStop. Once we got there, Simone was keen to see the special of the night: Boneless Thursdays. He had worked at a BWW years ago for a bit. After we ordered to-go, the cashier said it would be 20 minutes. So we killed time just talking. He was quite funny, telling me how he actually dislikes bones in his meat. He also did not like condiments on his hot dogs, only if it was a specialty hot dog like a chilli cheese dog or Philly cheesesteak dog. The night ended with some cuddles and some fun. As much as I wanted to discuss our shift in our relationship, I wanted to push myself and try something I’m not used to. Also I didn’t want to ruin the night with such a heavy topic.
As the weeks soldiered on, seeing him started to feel comfortable. Our time together was the highlight of the week. Somewhere between the sex and the conversations, an intimacy formed on my end. I knew I was starting to fall for him, but willfully kept going down the rabbit hole. Perhaps it was the optimist in me that hoped something substantial would happen over the durations of our time together. The animosity didn’t help with my anxiety as we neared the end of our time together.
One tipsy Sunday I texted him, “I already think you are someone special and I will acknowledge that. I love you and will be okay if we don’t end up together.”
The next morning, I realized what I sent. While drunk messages are filterless emotions, it might have been too much for a person to intake. Mid-morning, he hadn’t text back so I sent another message, “Sorry I just woke up and typo “I like you” lol.”
“Morning! Just woke up too lol. I was like “wow” lol,” Sam responded.
To gauge his feelings I sent, “Morning beautiful! Lol like a good “wow” or a “too much wow?””
“The love part would have been too much wow. Lol.”
“Well I am glad I clarified lol”
Looking back on this text conversation, I should have proceeded with more caution. Sam clearly didn’t reciprocate the “I like you” and that should have been enough to start guarding myself.
The end of August marked our 2 month mark. This hangout consisted of exploring San Jose Pride, it was our last hangout for the next 3 weeks. I spent a majority of San Jose Pride volunteering at an alcohol booth to support the gay softball league. It was really thoughtful that even though he had to work that day, he carved out time to come visit me at the booth. After my shift, we watched a performance and viewed all the little booths.
Out of the various booths, my favourite was the photo booth. Ever since childhood, I loved immortalising a moment with a photo. We stood in line and nestled out heads against one another as we held hands. After the group head of us finished, we put our stuff on the table and began to position ourselves. One of the girls from the previous group saw us and told us we were really cute together and asked if we were together. I knew what the answer was, I knew what I wanted, but I didn’t know how to respond. I eventually just giggled as he didn’t engage at all. The photo booth took 4 pictures, we planned out each of them. The consensus was: 1 nice one, 1 funny, 1 serious, and 1 kissing photo. As we got the photos, I instantly loved the set. He had some reservations on the way he looked.
2 days later, I flew out to London. I had a long layover in Salt Lake City and decided to work from the airport. I had joked with Sam the day before about posting our photos to my Instagram as a legit post or story. While working at the airport I cry tears of happiness. Sam beat me to the punch and posted to his Instagram and Facebook. He had posted first the photo of us that I was deeply obsessed with. The photo was colorful and really showcased how happy I was in the moment. He also posted 2 of the 4 Photo Booth photos: the nice one and the funny one with the caption: “A little over a month from now, I’m gonna be moving to San Diego, but during my time here in the Bay Area, I am so incredibly happy I met this young man.”
Though I knew I couldn’t sustain this fantasy of us getting together, I still fanned the embers. He conveniently had to fly out that same week, for a week, to scope out San Diego for work. I spent the next two and a half weeks in Europe with close friends and made some beautiful memories.
2 weeks before Sam’s move, we planned to see each other one last time. After my travels, I was more than ready to see him. I wanted to jump his bones, but more importantly I wanted to just catch up as we cuddled. He came up Friday evening and stayed till Sunday evening. I treated this as our last hurrah and tried to cater the weekend to doing everything he wanted to do before he left. The first night we stayed in and did what we wanted to do… had sex, catch up, and listening to very emotional music.
The next day, we woke up slowly and had sex again. Once we were ready for the day, we made our way to our first spot: Dolores Park. I needed to show him the true “gay beach” that exists with a great view of the city. On our way over we made two stops to get cannabis chocolate, cocktails, and snacks. As we settled into our spot at the park, we partook in the party favors we brought. Later, a woman approached us selling LSD. I’ve had a couple times prior and enjoyed myself. For him, he had tried it before but never felt the full effects of a psychedelic. I was always open to new experiences and was okay with him doing it. For me, I need to pace myself so I didn’t partake in the activity. Something inside me didn’t want to be too “fucked up” on our last weekend together.
It wasn’t till our walk home did the effects start to kick in for him. Walking hand-in-hand toward my apartment, he looked over at me and said, “You know you are the first person I was truly able to be my weird-self with. I’m really glad I met you.”
While taking it with a grain of salt, hearing the impact I had on him really made me feel good about myself. Here is a guy, who didn’t know or couldn’t truly showcase a facet of themselves for some reason, but something about me allowed them to be comfortable enough to be their authentic self. But it also made it harder for me to disassociate my feelings with what he said because he’d be gone in 2 weeks.
The following day, we had sex again, I made him my famous “eggs in a basket” and explored more of the city. San Francisco is such an underrated city overall. Since it was his last day in San Francisco, I wanted to show him some of my favorite spots featured in one of my favorite movies and one of my favorite novels based in the city.
First stop was Buena Vista Cafe, mentioned in the novel, “Tales of the City” written by Armitead Maupin. The 100+ year old cafe is famous for their Irish coffees. In my early years of living in the city, I used to go there frequently with friends visiting out of town or on nights out before the clubs. Thankfully by the time we arrived, there wasn’t a wait. We sat at the bar and ordered. It was fun to see the bartender make these delicious drinks right in front of us.
Next stop, Musee Mecanique. Featured in the movie, “Princess Diaries,” this arcade museum housed various old and new arcade games spanning various eras. It also featured one of my favorite old-school photo booths. The picture quality is unlike any I’ve ever encountered in my life thus far. As we walked I pointed out other landmarks or fun facts from my childhood as we passed them. It was special to me to point out the things and places that made up much of my upbringing. But maybe a part of the excitement was because I got to play tour guide in a city I knew so well.
Toward the end of our time roaming the various games, I pulled him to the photo booth. We situated ourselves in the tiny booth and drew back the curtains before taking a set of pictures. After waiting 5 minutes the results were less than worthy so I convinced him for another take. Between the two photo strips, the second take was more superior. He gave me that one.
After the arcade museum, we roamed Fisherman’s wharf for a lobster roll for him. Among the strip of street vendors, we found one vendor who seemed less pushy than the others. We ordered a lobster roll for him, shrimp po boy for me, and a cup of clam chowder to share. We sat upon the plaza across the street and began eating our meal. The rolls were excellent, but the clam chowder was even better, especially on a cold, rainy day. Somewhere in between bites, it began to rain. Thankfully I had an umbrella in my coat for the two of us. Some people might find the rain a downer, but we laughed about it and didn’t let it ruin our time together.
After all of that, the time had come to head back and drop him off at his car. A sinking feeling settled in my throat as I knew this was all coming to a close. I queued up a couple of sad songs on the car ride back that I thought he’d enjoy. Of those, the one he connected with the most was “Arcade” by Duncan Laurance (feat. FLETCHER.) The chorus of the song:
“I’ve spent all of the love I saved
We were always a losing game
Small town boy in a big arcade
I got addicted to a losing game
Oh
Oh
All I know, all I know
Loving you is a losing game”
Perhaps, we both knew this summer fling (or whatever it was) was now done. I started to sing along in the car and it hit chords inside me that words could not describe. As I parked in front of his car, we took a second before getting out of the car… sitting in silence. Once we did make it to his car, he packed his things and closed the trunk. He walked over for one last hug, that turned into a kiss, and then a head nuzzle.
He looked up at me and asked,“Hey you’re still playing softball through the end of the month right?”
“Yes, we are technically off this week and playing the following week.”
“Well I’d like to see you again before I leave.”
He knew just what to say to make me smile from ear to ear. These were loose plans, but the hope of seeing him again made me excited. And like that, we both kissed one last time before getting into our cars. On the car ride home I replayed Arcade on repeat, singing along to the chorus. There was a disconnect from my feelings, I should be happy. But maybe deep down I knew this was still just a fantasy. I was fooling myself and reality was settling in.
Due to scheduling on his end he had forgo hanging out.
The night before he left for San Diego, I started to draft a post about him to add to my Instagram and Facebook. The pictures were chosen, but I was at a loss with the words for what to say. There were so many things I wanted to say but pouring my heart on this post would be too much. After talking to several friends, I crafted a blurb that summarised our time vaguely but also meaningful.
The day he left, the 10 photos were made public to my social media with the caption: “The season of summer is a consistent phenomenon we expect; Though it’s the people we meet, the moments we share, and lessons we learn that are ever-changing. What a serendipitous summer with this gem of a person. Sad to see him go, but will cherish the memories. Wish him all the best in San Diego!”
After seeing the post he messaged, “That post *sad crying face.*”
That was probably the hardest weekend for me. As much as I tried to not think of Sam, he was all I could think about. The attachment was too strong and I missed him. I knew texting him more after the move meant the more I’d miss him. At the same time, maybe I subconsciously wanted him to miss me too and not texting could provide that avenue.
The following Monday, I was talking to one of my gay besties, Max, about his exploration with an open relationship. He was in the midst of seeing 3 different guys and asked for my opinion of these guys. Since Max didn’t have social media, he asked for me to creep for him. One of the guys worked at Apple as some type of engineer. I thought of Sam again and wondered if they knew each other. I forgot exactly what type of engineer Sam was so I went to his Facebook and that’s when I started yelling, “What the fuck? What the actual fuck?”
On his Facebook, he had changed his relationship status to “in a relationship” the day after he got to San Diego. I was fuming with anger, confusion and questions. My mind started racing with scenarios when did this start, why wasn’t I informed. I now know what “going with the flow” means. My heart exploded via texting to all my best friends this information. As much as I wanted to be angry, waves of sadness washed over me. There were moments of trying to be happy strung in the cycle of emotions, but the optimist in me wanted to shut down. That night was one of the hardest nights I’ve had in months. I couldn’t sleep, my mind was racing with scenarios, feelings, and thoughts of texting him outright.
The next day, I couldn’t focus on work or really do much of anything. My eating habits were askew and I felt like everything leading up to this moment was all for nothing. Instead of being left with my own thoughts, I leaned on the ears of friends to talk my feelings out. Every friend I spoke to lended a new perspective on the situation. Wading through these insights, I realized that I was only postponing the inevitable… being alone with my thoughts once again. As recommended by friends, I tried my hardest not to text Sam. That night, even with a melatonin, I woke up at 4 am and couldn’t fall back to sleep. I lied there, eyes closed and started to craft a message to him. What I wanted to say and how to say it.
In the morning I wrote the message out, reviewed it, then sent it.
“Hey. Congrats on the relationship. I’m confused, were you going to tell me? I know we were “going with the flow” and fucking about, but I though in that we had mutual respect for one another. I was honest and transparent with you about my feelings and thought you did the same. I am hurt that you didn’t tell me and it’s even worse finding out on my own. I felt like I knew you but now you seem like we’re strangers.”
Minutes later he responded, “I haven’t known him for too long, and met him during my trip to San Diego that one week. This is incredibly new, and I just decided to try it this past weekend. It wasn’t my intention to hide it from you, and my feelings and respect for you were mutual and honest. I am sorry, I hadn’t reached out yet, and most definitely didn’t want to hurt you. The last few days I just wasn’t sure how’d you respond, and wanted to try to find a way to tell you in an understandable manner.”
I didn’t know how to respond so I left his message read.
After work he messaged again, “Russell, I want you to know that I never meant to hurt you, I was wrong for not telling you, and honestly waited too long, until it was too late. My fear of letting you down, even though we were keeping it casual and “going with the flow” kept me from just straight up telling you that I just incredibly recently started talking to somebody. Again I’m incredibly sorry.”
There was no amount of sad post-breakup music that could replace that sinking feeling in my chest. In some ways maybe this was better, he found someone else so I didn’t have to blame myself. He started a new journey, while I was still here… hurting, processing, and dwelling. Each day was a reminder of what happened. Each time Sam posted on Instagram, with his new boyfriend, I got an ache in my stomach and shiver in my teeth. I ended up muting his post from my feed to allow myself to grow without setbacks. There were days I definitely wanted to just go down to San Diego, party a shit ton and post on social media in spite of him. But I learned that the best revenge is living your life. Why go somewhere in spite, when I can travel somewhere (even a new place) for pure pleasure.
A month later, I am still hurt but I’m alive. I am in the process of letting go and in doing so decided to write a post about our story. A story of promise, anonymity, and heartbreak. This is my version of giving myself closure instead of waiting for it from someone else. Like my co-writer said, “Let it go. You had a nice ending. Allow the chapter to end on the bittersweet note it deserves. You had good memories, don’t taint them.” I will cherish this summer and all the beautiful, yet messy bits. The biggest thing it showed me is that I’m capable of loving someone again after my divorce. I had the pleasure of meeting someone who made me feel something dormant inside me.
-Your Friendly Poly Guy 2
