Waiting for Mr. Black at Beige

by Diego

When your best gay friend text-messages you about an ex-Army black top he wants to set you up with, you do not ignore the text. And, even if you are a sneezing, clogged-up nose, sore throat mess, you still show up at Beige at 1 a.m. to meet Mr. V-shaped Back Orpheus.

So off I went to B Bar (Bleeker and 5th). The line was pretty big, but moved swiftly. A mix of a Hiro and Mr. Black crowd. On Tuesday nights it is apparently New York's number one S&M club (as in Stand-and-Model, that is). You know, washed out white bottoms with their D&G tanks, A/X jeans, pretending to be versatiles. The type of place where you can't swing a crocodile Hermes birkinbag without hitting at least a dozen "photographer" bottom losers.

"So where is this guy?", I ask my friend. "He's coming, he's coming", he says. The black dude is supposedly coming from Brooklyn, which is hot. But he actually lives in the East Village, which is not. He used to be in the military, which is hot. But was discharged when they found out he was a fag, which is not. I am totally against top guys who are out of the closet. If you want to be a real top, you need to stay in the closet. Otherwise they end up finding out the perks of being a bottom (laying there while the other does all the work), they'll decide to experiment ("with a boyfriend only") and never be back to top-ness.

"Is this guy really a top?", I ask. "Yes, he never ever gets fucked", my friend answers. "But does he suck dick?", I ask. "That I don't know..."

How you gonna make the case for someone to be a real top and you don't know if he sucks cock???

If you suck, touch or look at cock, you ARE NOT a top. You are a bottom-waiting-to-happen, bitch. Admit it.

By now it's 2 a.m. and I am ready to take my Zanax and crash. I'd already been tag-teamed earlier in the day. It's not like I needed the cock, you know. So Mr. Black text-messages my friend and says he is stuck in Brooklyn (hot) and will have to call me "manana" (not).

So I leave, completely stood up at a blind date that wasn't. I am too tired to post on Craigslist, so I just check my Adam4Adam email. Not much there. I think about the Puerto Rican thug I wish was my husband (no education, neck tattoos, an undying willingness to take the garbage out), I jack off, one hand on the dick, one finger up the coochie, and I fall asleep. This is New York, my friend, you don't get no second chances. I don't do "discharged from the Army for being gay" fags anyway. Next!

For more Diego, click here.