you ready for this?

Nicholas is a sweet boy and is totally into me. I just don't know how to tell him that the feelings aren't reciprocal. He and I have plans to grab dinner tomorrow night, so perhaps it will come up in conversation.

However, let me tell you about The Bartender. Nate the Bartender works at Crush, my favorite neighborhood gay bar (a scant 10 minute walk from my apartment). I've seen him several times in the past, on the occasions that I would go there for a drink, and have always thought that he was of above-average cuteness.

On St. Patrick's Day this year, I ended up at Crush, having already had several drinks, and plopped myself down at the bar. The first drink was ordered from another bartender, Noah, and he started running my tab. When it came time for the second drink, however, Nate took my order and made my drink, and I noted that he didn't go to the computer to add the drink to my total.

Sweet, I thought to myself, I can handle this, and drank up.

So I'm getting ready to leave, and the next thing I know, Nate is sitting next to me with a drink in hand. He had just finished his shift and started chatting me up.

Again, sweet!

Long story short, I get 4 free shots out of the deal, then he takes me to a party, where I proceed to throw up for twenty minutes in the kitchen sink and pass out on the sofa.

Jump to the following Thursday night, my first night of Spring Break. Aleksandr and I pop in to Crush for a quick drink and I see Nate. He apologizes for the SPD debauchle and pours me a whiskey+soda in a highball glass for $5.

Yet again, sweet!

Jump to the following Thursday at Booty. He shows up, gives me a hug, and goes after a drink/some socialization, but we leave before he can make his way back to me.

We'd been communicating via MySpace, and he let me know that he would be at Crush that Saturday (this last Saturday) helping the DJ set up and asked me if I wanted to join him. So I go, we have some drinks, we close down the place (for the second time.... the joys of being with a bartender), dance for a bit (at one point he says, "You're the first skinny guy I've been with"), and we start making out on the couch.

Super Sweet!

From there we head to Sid's house, where the party was on SPD, and chill with them for a while. Soon enough it's 4:30am and I turn to Nate and say, "I think it's time for me to head home. Would you like to come with me?" He, very drunk (and high) at this point, himmed and hahed for a bit, then agreed, on the condition that, "There will be no hanky-panky."

"What qualifies as hanky-panky?" I asked.

"No fisting. And no peeing on each other."

"Hahaha! Okay, you have my word."

"Cuddling is good."

"I think that can be arranged."

So we stumble back to my house, I force some water in his system, and we pass out, our bodies entertwined most comfortably. I wake up the next morning to find that not only am I on the opposite side of the bed, but I'm on the very edge of the bed, about to fall off, because Nate is squished all close to me.

After nudging him back over and closing the curtains even more, I return to bed and squeeze up next him, his warm, thin body feeling phenomenal next to mine. For the rest of the morning we cuddled. I would often run my fingers up and down his torso or arms, playing gently with the hair on his tummy, fingering the waistband of his boxer-briefs.

At 6'2", his body is long and lean, only slightly more defined than my own, dotted with freckles of different sizes around his shoulders. He has an ideal amount of body hair, just enough on his lower abdomen, a little on his chest, and it's soft and curly. His brown hair is fine, almost as baby fine as my own. It's length is just long enough to be perfect for running my hands through. His eyes are pale blue in color, a blue of astounding clarity.

Eventually he woke up and we just laid in bed, playing with each other's hair, taking turns laying our heads on the other's chest, and playing with our feet. I was super-conscious about his No Hanky-Panky rule, not wanting to infringe upon any first-night boundaries he might have, so it took me a while to build up the nerve to kiss him again. But when I did, it felt so good. He's a lip-kisser, with very similar technique to my own, and when I complimented him on his expertise, he countered, telling me that I was a great kisser as well, "very sensual."

That made me smile. Sweet.

As the morning turned into afternoon, our tone turned more playful. We started telling jokes, and he received more than one raspberry. We had absolutely no intention of getting out of bed, but his rumbling tummy got the better of him and we eventually made it out to Crush for brunch. He drove me home afterward and kissed me goodbye.

"But you didn't have sex!" you might say. Quite honestly, I am perfectly fine with what happened. It was exactly what I needed. Next time, though.... well, we'll see.