August 2015. Cake. That was the name of the club. My cousin, Ming, was turning 19 and I agreed to be the designated driver. She got bottle service, so we had our own table.
I spent most of the night at the table while the “youngins” took to the dance floor. The crowd was 19-23 years young. I felt out of place. Old. The people-watching made me feel even older; but reminiscing back to my own party days was good times.
At one point, I moved to the dance floor to check it out. I stood to the side. I didn’t feel like dancing to shitty music with the rest of the crowd. While I scanned the baby faces, I noticed to my right, the wide-shouldered bouncer sitting on a stool. Hmmmm, could this be a yummy possibility in this sea of children? I needed to see his face before making the decision to chat him up.
I got closer, shimmying up next to him. He looked me up and down and smiled. I smiled back. He was fucking cute! It didn’t take long before we started chatting. It was hard to hear him but we were able to speak loud enough to have a bit of a conversation. He worked as an electrician during the day and bounced at night. He trained as a wrestler (not WWE wrestling). I could tell through his fitted shirt that he was built nice.
I eventually headed back to our table to have a drink. As I sat there with the fam talking and joking around, I watched him kick out a few drunkards. It was hot; he just grabbed guys by the nape of their necks and hauled them out. I definitely wanted to fuck him.
As we were leaving, I decided to go for it. I leaned in and told him that if he ever wanted to “wrestle” with me, he should give me a call. He smiled and pulled out his phone. Fuck I thought I was so slick.
He messaged me a few days later. His English wasn’t the greatest, but he could carry on a basic conversation. We decided to wrestle the following weekend. I sent Kol, T, Kris and Miss D the details of where I was going and with who.
He shared an apartment in Etobicoke with his cousin. It was a ghetto-ass building between beautiful new condos. His room was clean and tidy, but the rest of the place was fucking gross. Was the sex going to be worth it? At that point, I didn’t care (I really should’ve); I was only there to “wrestle”.
He made us a couple of drinks, put on some music and we got straight to it. We both got naked and he put his dick in my mouth. He was built like a wrestler; thick, muscular, strong. His dick wasn’t anything special; it was actually on the smaller side, but it did the trick for the most part. I was glad he liked to go down. The sex overall was OK. I must say, he was a very good kisser.
When we were finished, we went to Starbucks. We sat outside and chatted. He was my age. Single. Immigrated from Albania five years ago where he was a gym teacher. He was the only one from his family here. No kids. Never been married. Grasp of the English language – good at best.
I headed home after my last sip. From start to finish, I was only with him for about two hours. I liked the efficiency.
He would text me throughout the week, but because his grasp of the English language wasn’t extensive, our conversations were mostly filled with emojis and sexual content.
I definitely didn’t see this going anywhere; but I had an open mind and saw it as a fun way to pass the time.
I continued “wrestling” with him every Sunday. I couldn’t bring him to my place due to my inconvenient roommate circumstance.
This motherfucker was all about starting off with me sucking his dick. As soon as I would get to his place, he would make me a drink, we’d exchange some small talk and within a couple of minutes he would get naked, grab the back of my head and get me to suck him. Every. Single. Time. Sure, it was selfish and it became monotonous, but I didn’t care how our little fuck sessions started. I could actually fit his entire cock in my mouth, hard, without deep throating; he was small but he knew how to work it some of the time. At least he was good with his mouth.
He was pretty vain too. He was always asking me to take naked photos of him. It was hilarious. He would pose, like a wrestler in the ring, all flexed and shit; then I would take the picture. When I shared the photos with my homies, we laughed; and most remarked on how small is dick was. Poor guy.
I actually have one of these photos but I won’t post it to preserve some dignity for him.
On one Sunday, he asked if I wanted to go to the gun range. He pulled out two gun cases; one with a couple of hand guns and one with a couple of shotguns. I had enjoyed shooting targets with OPP, so I totally wanted to go. We packed up and headed to a shooting club out in the Niagara region. He checked us in and we hit the shotgun targets first. He gave me some tips on how to aim and shoot. The targets were all shot up, so I couldn’t really tell where I was hitting. The handgun target areas were a lot more fun. There were a series of different metal targets and hearing the “ping” when I took a shot was validating. Watching other hot men shooting guns was a great way to spend the day too. I totally understand why people like guns, it gets your adrenaline pumping. I even enjoyed loading them.
On some Sundays, he and I would go out for food after we fucked. He ordered steak at every single restaurant. Even if it was a breakfast joint, he ordered steak and eggs; I gathered, since his English wasn’t strong, he couldn’t read or understand the menu.
I actually couldn’t stand going out to eat with him. As soon as we’d sit down and the waitress would ask what we wanted to drink, he would order his steak right away. I blatantly told him, every fucking time, that he needed to wait for me before ordering and it was rude to order before I was ready. He didn’t ever listen. I mean, most times I hadn’t even opened up my goddamn menu and he had already placed his order. Ugh. Well, at least he always picked up the bill.
October 31, 2015. We decided to go out for dinner. He took me to a pretty nice joint. It was busy and the wait staff were dressed in Halloween costumes. As per usual, he fucking ordered as soon as we sat down. I lost my shit on him and he didn’t even flinch. The waitress put her hand on my shoulder and told me to take all the time I needed while she glared at him.
After I ordered, he gave me a proposition. He asked if I would marry him so that he could get his citizenship. I was taken aback. I thought, what the fuck do I have to lose, so I went with it.
I told him I would agree to the arrangement if he bought me a house in Toronto and transferred a ridiculous amount of money into my account (I think the number I chose was $300,000). He said I was fucking crazy and offered $30,000.
I told him I’d be fucking stupid and crazy to do it for a penny less than what I suggested. I mean, if we went through with this, he could rack up thousands of dollars in debt and I would be on the hook for it. I would be responsible for paying off any and all debt he (or family members he has visiting the country) incurred over the first three years of our “marriage”. I wasn’t fucking stupid and I wasn’t actually going through with it.
That was the last time I saw him. We messaged a few more times after that night, but I told him I wasn’t interested in marrying him or wrestling anymore. He never responded.
On to the next…
Duration = roughly 2 months.
Lesson(s) Learned:
- When engaging in a “fucking only” type of situation, ensure that the sex is “blow your mind” worth it. The Wrestler was ok, but I never found myself fantasizing about him, or even truly lusting after him. I was driving over half an hour to have sex with a guy with a small dick, poor restaurant etiquette and a cockroach infested apartment. (Is this rock bottom yet?)
- Engage in better, fulfilling activities when you’re learning to “be alone”. Don’t get me wrong, it could definitely be a booty call, but as I said above, if it’s going to be just that, ensure it’s worthy of you! I realize I was passing time, just getting by and convincing myself that everything I found “ok” with this guy was better than nothing. I mean, I had some fun, but it wasn’t anything special. What I should’ve been doing is starting this blog, but then again, I wouldn’t have had the romantic proposal for citizenship story to write about.
- Spend your time with someone who sparks your interest. The Wrestler sparked my interest the first couple of times we fucked. The gun range was fun too. But that’s it. I could’ve done without the rest of it.
