Chapter 32. Ginger-Bed Man

“Since I’ve come on home, well my body’s been a mess. And I’ve missed your ginger hair, And the way you used to dress. Won’t you come on over” Stop making a fool out of me?” – Amy Winehouse

After matching with countless men on dating sites but never following through and meeting them in person I finally began going on dates in 2024. The first guy told me he lived with his parents after a rough few years of partying in LA. This didn’t really resonate with me, so onto the next. The next gentleman designed furniture for rich people and told me his dad owned a vineyard in some eastern European country I can’t remember. I was a bit more interested in this one, but it ended after 2 dates. Then on the third date it happened, the sparks I had not felt in a very long time. Lets just call him Ginger Bed Man (GBM), he was a ginger haired man with a mustache, caring energy, athletic build, and calves’ worth showing off at the barbeque. I told him about my writing, hobbies, and lack of dating men, which didn’t seem to bother him at all.  If anything, he looked at me like I was some kind of treasure that had been lost at sea and overlooked by all the passing ships, I felt seen.  Our first date was immediate chemistry, we met in the city for coffee, which we sipped slowly in the park, and 6 hours later after dinner we were sitting in his apartment by the open window, listening to live music from the bar across the street. He got a blanket as the sun set and the cold bay air began to creep in. 

Before you think “what a floosy, you went in his apartment on the first date?” let me assure you we had been chatting for weeks before meeting and I had carefully vetted him.  He had just gotten back into town after officiating his cousin’s wedding out in Chicago. It felt like I already knew him, he laughed at most of the jokes I made and even added to them. He had a way about him, a kind nature, that immediately made me feel safe.  Better? Oh well, I had lived the last 20 years in the closet and was ready to experience what I had not let myself have because of the opinions of others. 

Our next few dates were very romantic. We spent a lovely night at a cottage by the sea, where we shared stories, experiences, hopes and fears, and plenty of skin-on-skin contact.  The next morning, we got coffee and pastries and sat by the ocean just enjoying each other’s company in the sunshine of a new day full of possibilities.  This felt different for me, and I was worried I was falling for him too quickly. He had a good job at google, an amazing(organized) apartment, was going to therapy just like me, and a Midwest personality that made me think he had gone through a similar struggle of self-identity, but many years ago.  He also explained that he had a bit of a challenge coming out all those years ago but his confidence and how much he seemed to know himself inspired me that one day I could own my own life in such a way.

When the San Francisco Pride Parade came along about a month into us seeing each other, we decided to spend the weekend together full of gay activities. The first day of the weekend we went to a Pride picnic with some of the people from the gym where he worked out. We were dressed in almost matching button up shirts, and he had given me a colorful (loud) chain to wear.  That night my friends came over to his apartment, and I introduced him to my friend group that new I was out. It was an amazing night, and I was so smitten with this smart ginger man who seemed like such a catch.  The next day, dressed in all rainbows we took to the city hand in hand, unabashedly in love, or so I thought. It was a beautiful day with friends, laughter, kissing, and sweet glances that felt like they were for just us and no one else. When I tell you I was surprised at how comfortable I was with him I really mean it. After growing up in a house that shamed, damned, and cursed all things gay I was never sure I would ever be able to be myself without judging it through the lens of my father.  After spending 20 years of hiding who I was and how I felt this ginger man pulled a sort of self-confidence from me I never knew I had.  On multiple occasions he would check in on me to make sure I was comfortable and the newness of the experience wasn’t too much for me, he seemed too good to be true.  

After 2.5 months of “dating” things were going so well that I began to wonder when it would all fall apart.  Unfortunately, after years of failed relationships my brain was trained to prepare for when it all eventually would come crashing down.  Besides one incident where we left Coral alone in his immaculate apartment and she chewed the wooden button off one of his cute throw pillows, everything was going swimmingly. He still looked at me like I was a treasure that he couldn’t believe was still unclaimed. 

When we first met, GBM had told me about a 3-week trip that he had planned to go to Paris and see the Olympics with some friends of his, specifically a friend named Leroy who was from France.  Leroy and GBD had a fling when they first met but that was a long time ago and he told me they had just been friends for years.  I had no reason not to trust him, so for the 3 weeks in Paris, we texted every day and occasionally video chatted when we could. One of the video chats was while he was at the Eiffel Tower during sunset and it was an impressive sight to behold. I would be lying if I said that during this month my mind didn’t wander. Everything from I wonder if he is fooling around with Leroy to do I want to be with a man or women crossed my mind.  The feeling of security in my identity I felt at the Pride Parade began to fade and I wondered if it was all just a dream, it all seemed so far away and had happened so quick. 

He returned from Paris the same weekend that I left for my annual Mono Hot Springs trip.  Another week apart, and another week for my insecurities to fester. After several talks with my camping partner and multiple soaks in the healing water of the hot springs every sunrise, I felt more grounded and freer of the anxieties that had clouded my mind when GBD had left for Europe. I was so excited to see him after bragging about him all week and how I had been crazy to doubt the deep connection we had.  Before seeing him that weekend I bought 3 records to listen to at his apartment as he had a record player and wanted to stay close to home after traveling for almost a month.  2/3 records where singers that I like, Chappel Roan who I had just seen at Outside Lands music festival and Orville Peck who I had seen a year before. The third record was going to be delivered to his house the next day and was his favorite composer, Hans Zimmer, who you may recognize from films such as Dune and Interstellar. 

On Friday I packed up my things for the weekend, the gifts I had gotten for him, and Coral in my truck and headed to see the man I had been talking to every day on the phone for a month. While looking for parking near his apartment he texted me saying “I’ve had a good day but have been dealing with a lot of feelings.” At first, I chalked it up to excitement and nervousness at not seeing each other for a month, but when he texted “we can talk about it when you get here.” Something inside my stomach knotted up.   After a stressful parallel parking job in front of a very busy wedding ceremony taking place outside of Saint Peter and Paul Church, I called Josh to come help me with some of my bags. He showed up a few minutes later, gave me a kiss and hug and then said “lets hold off on the bags for now and take a walk.” Uh oh, my insides lurched, I suddenly knew what was happening and I felt completely caught off guard with no inclination that things were not ok between us until this moment.  

We walked Coral over to the park right next to the church and sat on a bench to “talk”. He told me that he had done a lot of reflecting on his trip and had come to the realization that my “newness” to the LGBT community did not really fit his lifestyle. He said he wanted someone more confident and established in their sexuality. He also told me that when we started dating, he was also seeing someone else at the same time. He claimed that because we had not defined the terms of our relationship that this was somehow ok. I asked if he truly thought it was ok then why he waited to tell me until he was all done with me. 

When I tell you I was ugly crying in this park I am not exaggerating, snot, weird face and all.  The scene was like something from a romantic comedy movie with a joyous wedding behind us, a man playing the saddest Korean music I had ever heard on a portable speaker on the next bench over, and me blubbering over a guy who had not been what I thought he was.  After an hour of crying and talking, he invited me up to his apartment to get pizza and just be friends.  I politely declined the offer of pizza and said I would need a few weeks in the friendship department as well. I told him to keep the Hans Zimmer record that would be delivered to his house the following day and that I was happy my first real (to me) gay relationship was with him. On my way home I bought a record player to listen to the other two records I had purchased as a form of retail therapy.  My first relationship with a guy was officially over and it hurt for so many reasons.  It hurt because I was starting to see how my life could look being truly myself, it hurt because he had lied to me, and it hurt because he fed my fears of being rejected by most guys my age because my inexperience in “the community”. 

The week after the breakup was a whirlwind of emotions and a hodgepodge of activities.  As I stated the night of the breakup was one full of tears and depressive thoughts of being a lonely gay man who had missed the gay train to gay heaven.  The tears I shed were different than normal though. They were in front of a park full of people, when normally I did my crying in the solitude and safety of my own home.  But to do it in such a public setting was a testament to how far I’ve come regarding letting myself be vulnerable enough to share a real connection with someone. Then after crying in the park, I cried in my truck(dangerous), then in my camper listening to the record I had purchased over and over again. Having to flip a record over after only 4 songs is Ludacris and I realized after this impulse purchase, I’m not a record player person and Josh isn’t the one for me. 

Saturday, I had to drink a hydration packet because of all the salt I had lost from about a gallon of tears. My friend, worried for my health, insisted that I go with her to Brandon’s power lifting competition in Santa Cruz. I wasn’t sure it was a good idea and didn’t want to bring the energy down, but when I got to the event I felt an absolute energy shift inside me. Maybe it was a manic kind of feeling but either way I was cheering on these lifters, most of whom I didn’t even know, like they were my children and I was so proud of them. Brandon ended up taking 3rd place in his first ever competition and I had gotten through the entire day without crying (mostly). 

Sunday, I worked out for 2 hours and went for a run after, deciding I wasn’t attractive enough to keep a partner, so I needed to change something about me starting with my love handles. This obviously wasn’t true because GBD told me I was the hottest guy he’s ever dated but my brain wouldn’t hear it. This is a common reaction I have, probably resulting from after losing almost 40 pounds as a teenager my dad would say “If you think you lost all that weight don’t forget to look behind you.” Implying I had a fat ass.  Oh, another gift bestowed upon my self-confidence and worth.  Then Monday came around and all that sadness turned to anger at him for leading me on while seeing another person and having the audacity to blame it on me for not defining our relationship early enough. Eww.  I began to recognize so many red flags that I have overlooked and realized that Gingerbread isn’t even that good. Time to look for a Pumpkin pie guy….