|Hi, my name really is John. I'm 36 but I look 35, I drive past the gym 4-5 times a week, and I almost always wear pants in public.|
I'm pretty much a laid-back, down-to-earth, easy-going guy. I have many different interests (see below), but like a lot of people I spend most of my free time just sitting in traffic. I lip-sync in the Boston Gay Men's Chorus, where I've met many close friends and one or two persistent stalkers.
I'm allergic to Woolite and also to furniture polish, but sometimes I eat it anyway.
People often tell me that I'm quite funny, but looks aren't everything. You might notice from my pics that I have a thin scar through my right eyebrow. I got it in a high-school food fight, when I was winged with a crock pot.
My interests include science and technology, movies/TV/DVDs, theater and the arts, computers and gadgets, shopping, bowling, music, singing, gardening, arts/crafts, the beach, day trips and local travel, dining out, astronomy, hanging out with friends, wasting time on the net, collecting chickens, photographing my penis, and running with scissors....and somehow I still find the time to masturbate.
I'm looking for nice, laid-back guys for friends and for someone special to date. It's true that what's on the inside matters most: a warm heart, a functional brain, an enlarged spleen--that sort of thing.
Stats: 5'8", 160#, brn/blue, Irish/Italian, mod. hairy (chest, tummy, legs), boxer-briefs, overly educated, 30" waist, 42" chest, size 10 shoes, bp 120/80, 11# bowling ball, 10w40 motor oil.
For those guys who insist on knowing my penis size, it's 0.0000947 miles.
I'm generally drawn toward guys who are intelligent, easy-going, and (especially) self-expressive--who are equally capable of holding a serious conversation and making fart jokes. Physically speaking, I tend to like guys who are tall (or at least taller than me), proportioned or a bit beefy rather than flabby or rotund, and somewhat younger than me (around 30). But nothing's carved in stone!
|I had my alarm set for 9:00, but woke up, and got up, at 8:30. Breakfast is served out on the deck here from 8:00-10:30. I grabbed my laptop, and went out there to enjoy it.|
There were two other people out there, a guy at each of two different tables. I took the other. After a few minutes, the guy sitting at the table in the shade left, and I snatched that table to (1) be out of the sun, and (2) to be able to see my laptop screen better.
After a few minutes, a Lesbian couple came out, and they took a lounge chair to be in as much shade as possible while balancing their breakfast plates on their laps.
I said to them, "You're welcome to share my shaded table if you'd like." They did.
One of them blurted out, "Chicago," and then started laughing, because she was actually born in Chicago, but was from Boston and had no idea why she said Chicago. After sharing our names with each other, theirs of which I'm not going to divulge here, as one of them is not completely out in her job, I asked, "So, what do you guys do?"
"I'm a lawyer," said one. "I'm a rabbi," said the other. I immediately thought, "Two Lesbians, one a lawyer, and one a rabbi... if they walked into a bar, they'd be an immediate setup for a joke." This is not to make fun of them in any way, however, as they were both quite delightful to meet and talk with during the brief time we shared. It turned out they were leaving Aerie House today, as there were only accommodations available through today here. They were moving to another place for their remaining couple of days. Glad to have met them. Hated to see them going.
While lying out on the Boatslip deck today, I met Richard from "Hahtfid" Connecticut, where he's a nurse. We were out there for a couple of hours when a whistle blew. I had no idea what was going on.
"Time to turn the chairs," Richard said. Everyone got up and started turning their chairs 45°. Wild.
I'm not saying that this is entrepreneurial genius, but you do the math: You have to pay for a lounge chair to lie out on this deck. $4.00 a piece. There are about 300 chairs, I'd guess. Want one of their towels? Two more dollars. And, oh yeah, when someone leaves for the day, they "resell" the chair to someone else.
At about 1:00, I left the Boatslip—and the sun—and on the way back to my place, I stopped at a card store, where I had the most interesting exchange. I found the perfect, perfect card for my uncle, who has worked in stone all of his life, including building his magnificent home from various kinds of—some quite expensive—stone, which he hand-chiseled to fit together like crossword puzzle pieces.
The card I found contained four rows, with three hearts on each row, all made of a different kinds of stone. I'm going to let him know how influential he was in my life in that card. I'll clip what I eventually write in that day's blog entry.
When I brought the card to the counter to ring up, a woman was at the register, a Lesbian I presume, but I really don't know that. She had short blond hair, and the most incredible, blue eyes. As I handed her my money, I held onto it while she started to take it, and I locked eyes with her. "You are absolutely beautiful," I said to her.
She gulped, and a huge smile came over her face. She said, "You have made my day. I was having a kind of poopy day, too. Thank you."
For some weird reason my eyes teared up as she was saying this, and I responded, "You're welcome."
I left with my bag, and she probably thought, "How odd. A gay man, with such an incredible compliment, and with tears in his eyes. Wonder what's up with him."
I stopped directly across the street, at the Provincetown Post Office, where I bought a couple of stamps.
My next stop on the way home was for lunch at The Portuguese Bakery, where I got the "Portuguese Extravaganza Plate." Being half Portuguese and half French, how could I resist an item with that name? It consisted of a fried egg, two slices of linguica, lettuce, tomato, pickle, and onion—all on a Portuguese roll, with a side of fries. Can you say yumalicious? I love my heritage—my food heritage.
When I finally got back to my room, and since I was on a (Portuguese) "roll" (pun definitely intended), I heated up the malassadas I had saved from yesterday, and had that to complete my Portuguese extravaganza.
Later in the afternoon, I met Richard again at "Provincetown's biggest Tea Dance of the year," where when I ran into him (it was uber-crowded just as the bartender had foretold), he said, "I was looking for you. Did you get my message?"
I checked my phone, which indicated no voice mail messages. I hate when that happens. After a few minutes of mucking with it, he said, "It was a text message I sent."
"Oh, that explains it," I replied. "I don't receive text messages." He seemed about as surprised at that as he did a little later when I mentioned that I haven't had a television for six years when he asked me if I'd seen some commercial." I think it's very interesting that people now just assume that everyone sends and receives text messages. Interesting communication milestone.
After a little while, we met Spencer, who only volunteered that he was "in education," but after saying to him, "Are you a doctor?" he confessed that he did indeed have his PhD. He'd also been married, a union which produced three children, the oldest of which was 31.
He was new to Provincetown and after a while he asked about the infamous "Dick Dock," and where all the sex that happens at the beach is. Obviously, he was here on a mission.
When the Tea Dance ended, the three of us walked up Commercial Street, and when we got to the Crown & Anchor, they turned in, and I proceeded back toward my place.
I had considered getting some "Steamers" for dinner at a place I'd noted earlier, but instead opted for a cheeseburger and fries from the Burger Queen. Some of the names of places here in Provincetown make me smile. Like that one.
The other one that gets me is the "The Fudge Factory." I question the wisdom of such an establishment name in a "gay town." :-)
Back at my place, I ate the cheeseburger, which was delicious. The fries? Not so much. I actually threw away half of them, so you know they couldn't have been that great. I rarely throw away food.
This is going to fall into the TMI category, so skip to the next section in the entry now if you think it'll bother you.
After dinner, I spent about 30 minutes in the hot tub. Since it was dark, and I was the only one in it, I took off my bathing suit even though it is not a clothing optional amenity. And since I haven't gotten off in three or four days (and I'm generally a 1-2 times-a-day kind of guy), I positioned myself strategically to avail myself of the jets, with which I edged for about 10 minutes. No, I did not cum in the hot tub. That would be "classy with a 'k.'"
I went to Purgatory—the club, not for what I'd just done in the hot tub—at 10:00, where it was "Crisco Disco" night. I paid a $10 cover charge, stood in front of the air-conditioner by the dance floor, had no drinks, and left after about an hour-amd-a-half when it got so incredibly hot and crowded in there that I could stand it no more.
Walking back to my place, I stopped, but spent 10 minutes or less in, the A House, the Wave Video Bar, the Paramount (connected to the Wave), and then an ice cream shop, where I tasted the "Caramel Fudge Brownie," but went with the Butter Pecan instead. Nothing like a midnight ice cream snack. Yum!