random acts of sex making and community building

when you live in cultures where striking up a conversation with a stranger can lead to macing or stinky eyes, engaging with your community members can seem impossible. unless you, y’know, actually take constructive steps to engage with your community. this is where okcupid throws you a bone.

all my okcupid ventures (and it’s not like i’ve had a ton) have been really positive, or at least entertaining. and who doesn’t love a good story? even the emails are gems. por ejemplo: “you are so beautiful and feminine. i wish you were open to bi-curious men,” and “makin out and sex i can help u. J.K u have ur own toys om[sic] sure.” and then, there are the dates. like the guy who whispered “i want to tear your asshole open” (yep), and later knelt down to kiss my crotch in the middle of a bookstore (yep yep). we made out in front of a banksy in chinatown. what can i say… he made a move. the quickest date i’ve ever had, a 30 minute painful snorefest, i ended with “it was super nice to meet you. take care.” and a brief hug (the international code for “that will be all, kind sir”). the next day, the kid sends me a long email explaining how he met someone else and was sorry things didn’t work out between us. don’t worry, i totally played it cool. one dude, turns out, was in an open love marriage for a visa, and just wanted to argue with me about everything, including my love for my dog. attention hipsters: contrarianism is not witty banter. most of these misadventures are my own fault. i play along with others’ narratives rather than be confrontational or make them feel bad. as a result, these dates can easily last over 5 hours -boys tend to have very, very long narratives. my friend likes to joke that i will marry one of these sad saps because it’s easier than rejecting them. i lack courage.

and yet, my luck on okcupid is far superior to my luck with analog randoms. those date stories tend to be more ridiculous. my first okboy, mi hombre dominicano, is now one of my closest friends. the internet gods have been kind to me. to name a few: my two year, persian, faux beau, musician who won my heart when he showed up bearing pizza (fuck flowers); my filipino boy who loves his dog and his mama; my argentine traveler who helped me say goodbye to san francisco and corrects my spanish like only an argentine could and would; my lovely irish ethnomusicologist who gave me such giggles (“i’ll take a splash of pillow”) and reminded me what it was like to date someone i actually like.

these were all time limited, and primarily sex and company-for-company’s-sake driven, endeavors, but they were still relationships. even those that weren’t that special were an opportunity. i learn about myself, what i’m capable of or need to work on. and this, aside from falling in love and having fun sex, is also what dating and building relationships is all about. and to have someone thrown into my orbit, however briefly, is delightful. i get to explore a little pocket of existence i would have never otherwise known. and there’s something beautifully random about that.

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About trying not to touch anything

living in a space where i am half packed, or half unpacked, depending on how you look at it; going somewhere else; wanting to write about my misadventures on a planet i don't feel like i should be on

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