My Dating Tips (Please Leave Your Suggestions!)

Okay, I’ve been dating dudes for a few months now. It’s been very trial and error. It’s funny but 25 years ago I dated women and now it’s men.

Men are different animals but some of the same rules for dating women apply. Here are my tips for dating successfully in this brave, new gayworld I’m in.


 And readers, please share your own suggestions with me because I realize I’m still a babe in the woods:


  • Try to do a fun activity together — like bowling, a sporting event or a concert. Observe how the brother acts in public. Is he courteous to waiters and other folks. Is he friendly or uptight to be with in public? Or is he really not your style? If you feel uncomfortable in public with a man you have a romantic interest in I would advise not pursuing the relationship. 
  •  I know this is a surprise coming from me but don’t try to jump in the bed on the first date. Take it easy and get to know the person. 
  • Don’t overdo it. When you first start dating it’s enough to see each other once a week. I’m not saying don’t call or text but try not to wear them out. Let things develop slowly. I think my problem a few months ago when I first jumped into the gay world is that I was seeking intimacy too fast. If I had slowed down and let my brains and not my hard dick to do the talking I would have never bothered with some folks because SURPRISE — there are some crazies around.
  •  Don’t be afraid to take risks and do things you wouldn’t normally do. The Jewish guy I see sometimes is into Gospel music which frankly I don’t like that much. He invited me to a gospel concert and at first I was reluctant but I went and had a nice time. And I could tell he was glad I was there to share the experience with him.
  • If you’re always planning outings and the other person is not reciprocating they are probably not that into you. Save yourself some pain and let them go.
  • If a person is only trying to get with you to get sex really examine this budding relationship. If that is what you want cool — hey I like great sex just like the next guy. But if you desire something deeper, it is better to let the relationship go or you will end up feeling used and your self-confidence hurt. I’m seeing a guy like that now — we will meet once a week and do that thing. But I limit our meetings to when it is convenient for me. Things may develop down the line but right now it’s mostly about sex. It is what it is.
  • Share date expenses or let one person pay one time and then reciprocate the next time. In other words, don’t be a moocher.
  • If you are dating several people at the same time don’t be a player and be honest. That way no one’s expectations get raised. Studies have shown gay men tend to have more polyamorous or dating several men at one time. This can actually be fun arrangement because you can explore different men and figure out what you like. However, don’t make a guy think he is your one and only and he is not.
  • Okay, so you and your date like to play sexually together and with others. That can be tricky. You need to set down some rules of engagement. You gets to fuck whom, you kisses whom etc. This type of arrangement takes a self-confident person, one who is sure enough about their date to know after play time is over you will still want to deal solely with each other.

Collision Course

My old, straight lifestyle and my new, gay lifestyle are on a collision course. When they hit, will I survive the crash?

Today I witnessed a collision but not my own.

I went to the funeral of a distant cousin who I had suspected was gay for a few months. Mind you, he was a big, strong, strapping man and a former athlete but twice while out driving I saw him walking through neighborhoods that had large gay populations.

That in itself means nothing but the fact that it kept happening made me think there was more to it. Plus, as we got older he quit coming to family functions and his immediate family never spoke about him unless asked and said very little. I’ve noticed gay men sometimes isolate themselves from family.

“How is Tobias doing?”

“Oh, he is fine.”

“Well, why doesn’t he come to the family reunions?”

“Girl, he is so busy on that job we rarely see him ourselves.”

Well, at his funeral I saw who Tobias was spending so much time with. The family sat on the left side of the sanctuary and the right side was filled with many of Tobias’ friends. And many were clearly gay. White men with hair that was a little too neatly feathered and dyed. Effeminate black men with too tight pants and too pointy shoes. Guys with voices that were a little too high and airy.

In fact, one of the white guys shed more tears and sobs as he gazed at Tobias laying in the coffin than many of Tobias’ relatives.

But what iced the cake was when a guy I had hooked up with online walked into the church and right up the aisle to view the body.

“Wow,” I thought to myself. “People I have hooked up with are starting to show up at family functions. This is getting too close.”

After the funeral a few relatives whispered about all the gay folks at the funeral but Tobias’ sexuality was not openly discussed. I guess President Obama can get rid of “don’t ask, don’t tell” in the military but the rule still applies in day-to-day life.

My mother, when she heard the gossip at the repast after the funeral, said something that made me proud. I wish I had the courage to say it.

“So what if Tobias was gay,” she said. “That was his business. Y’all need to learn to mind your own business.”

All I could think about was myself.  What will I do when my two worlds eventually collide and I am exposed to friends and family? Because eventually it will happen.


For those that don’t know “unclockable” means you are so masculine nobody knows you get down with men. Nobody can read you like a clock and tell what time it is.

I guess I’m failing. I’m no longer unclockable.

I got off from work on my part-time job Friday night and took the commuter train home. I was bone tired, just looking forward to laying in my bed and snoring. Several guys had been texting me all day but I was not feeling the need for sex. Even Immanuel has to rest.

It was an hour before my train came so I got a fish fillet from McDonald’s and hopped on the phone and called up my buddy “Rex” to gossip while I ate. I’ve gotten to the point where I discuss other gay dudes openly, so maybe I was overheard. Because the next thing I knew he walked up to me.

“Hey man, how you doing,” he asked. He was a brown skin dude with slightly curly brown hair and a clean shaven face. He wore trendy looking glasses — you know the kind with the rectangular rims. His jeans were stylish and he had a handsome, mellow face but if you looked closely things were not quite right.

Like his fingersnails were a little long and dirty. And he looked more tired than I did.

“Look, are you homeless? Do you want some change?” I answered, slightly surprised he had walked up on me without my noticing. Guess I was a little too into my phone convo.

Then he told me his story. He was a drug dealer who had just got out of jail for violating his parole. His kidneys were failing because he had untreated high blood pressure and he needed to go to his regular dialysis treatment. He had just $3 which he had spent on food at McDonalds. Could I buy his train ticket home?

I may be a freak but I try to be a good Christian. If someone asks me for something and I got it I will give it to them because honestly God has blessed me and continues to bless me and I know I will get it back. So I went to a ticket machine and got him a one-way fare back to his hometown.

“Wow man, that’s so nice of you. I really appreciate it. You’re a good man.”

I expected “Earl” to just walk away, happy he found a sucker. But he kept following me around talking about his life. How he had made $10,000 a day when the drug dealing was hot and how he had gone to prison and gotten divorced from his wife and was living with his Mom back in the hood, most of the luxury and bling now long gone.

Then he reached over and adjusted my collar so it stuck up just right above my jacket lapel. And I thought to myself, “An straight man wouldn’t do that. I bet this nigger is down-low.”

But I said nothing.

We got on the train and sat together. I was not traveling as far as he was. He kept asking me pointed, too-personal questions. Was I married or separated? Who did I live with? Did I have kids?

So I started asking him personal questions back.

“Look Earl. I notice you have healed over scabs on the back of your hands and your hands are puffy. You use drugs yourself? Are you shooting into the veins on your hands?”

“Well, Immanuel I used to shoot heroin and cocaine but I’ve been clean for months now. Plus I can’t do that shit cuz I’m on dialysis. My hands and feet are still swollen because I just got out of jail and I need dialysis to clean my system. I made an appointment to go tomorrow.”

The train continued to roll through the dark countryside and he kept talking.

“Look, I want you to come up and hang with me some time,” he said. “I go to a club called ‘Cheeks.'”

“Cheeks,” I thought to myself. “Ain’t that a gay club?” 

Then he just came out and asked the question that hung in the air. “Immanuel, do you fuck around?”

I smiled. My radar was right. Asking a guy if he “fucks around” are code words for asking if he is down-low.

“Yeah, I do. But how did you know?”

“Dude, you walked in McDonalds and I instantly starting looking at you because you’re a fine ass black nigga. You know that shit. Dudes must be telling you. And then I heard your voice. You have a nice voice but there is something in it that gave me a clue.”

“You just don’t talk, Immanuel. You speak.”

“Why don’t you roll with me Immanuel. I could date a nigga like you and make you happy.”

Earl told me he was a top who loved to fuck but could get fuck sometimes. Or he just liked to lay with a dude and kiss and caress and do oral. He had been married awhile and then had a male lover. When he went to prison for drug dealing he fucked around with one dude in prison but didn’t go buck wildwith all those dudes in there.

“You had to keep your business tight,” he said, explaining that if other inmates found out how you got down you could end up getting gang-raped or the shit beaten out of you. Still, he said gay sex in prison was rampant although few guys were the open, queeny type.

We promised to keep in touch and we even talked by phone later that evening. But we come from two different worlds so I don’t know if we will become good friends. He is an ex-hustler in his late 30s and I’m an ex-married, middled aged black guy. Plus something about him made me think he still dabbled in drugs, although he would only admit he liked weed every now and then.

But he said he still sometimes dreamed about getting back in “the game.” I remember someone told me there was a gay drug dealer on HBO’s “The Wire.” I never really watched that show but the way Earl talked made me think about that character.

I called my buddy Rex back the next day to tell him what happened at the train station.

“Damn man, if that guy could tell I was gay I must be slipping,” I said kiddingly.

“No Immanuel, you were talking about a lot of gay stuff before he came on to you so he probably overheard you,” Rex answered. “Even I was about to warn you about being careful what you say in public on yoru cell phone because you don’t know who is around you.”

Guess I better follow that advice.

Joseph and Nicholas Part II

“Joseph” and “Nicholas,” the Egyptian and black gay couple, had been hitting me up for days to return and threesome with them again (Read “Fantasy Fulfillment?” ). Or should I say, Joseph the top black guy kept hitting me up.

“You’re sexy man,” he said in a text sent to me last week. “I’ll talk to my boy about setting something up.”

I was tired last Friday but I decided to take them up on the offer after getting off my part-time gig. I arrived at their place at 11 p.m.

Robert came to the door, grinning in anticipation.

“Do you mind if I take a shower? I just got off,” I said.

“Sure, follow me,” he said. Nicholas was sitting on the sofa, watching television. “Hi Nicholas, how are you,” I asked as I walked by.

“Hey, how are you Immanuel?”


By the time I got out of the shower they were already naked and undressed in the their bedroom, standing up and tongue kissing. I had not noticed the first time how beautiful their bodies were. Nicholas’ ass is smooth and unblemished, his ass cheeks round and full like two Golden Delicious apples. And Joseph is tall and lean with a body that looks like it is carved from onyx.

They were a handsome pair, sophisticated and polished.

But the sex that night was anything but demure — it was downright animalistic. Joseph’s dominance came to fore and the sex was rough. He made Nicholas suck first his dick, then my dick, then both of our dicks at the same time. We took turns fucking his mouth, an act Nicholas seemed to enjoy.

“Oh, big black dick,” he moaned.

And once again Joseph pulled out a camera to record the scene.

Then he made Nicholas get on all fours, spit on his hand, rubbed it on his dick, and pushed his fat dick up Nicholas’ smooth ass. My dick is long but Joseph’s is wider with a fat head that looks like a plum.

“Ouch! Ouch!,” Nicholas blurted out as his ass stretched. But Joseph didn’t relent.

“Take this dick. Give me that ass,” Joseph ordered. And Nicholas took the dick.

Then Joseph got up, got a towel and blindfolded Nicholas with it and made him take both our dicks in his mouth. We pushed our dicks in so far that Nicholas gagged sometimes and slid back against an armchair to catch his breath. Joseph would get tender and give him a break but in awhile he would grab Nicholas’ head and force our dicks back into his mouths.

But a curious thing happened while Nicholas was blindfolded. One time my dick slid out of Nicholas’ mouth and Joseph bent over and took it into his mouth, sucking silently for a few moments, as if he didn’t want Nicholas to hear. Then a few minutes later he leaned over and kissed me on the mouth while Nicholas knelt blindfolded at our feet, apparently not knowing his black lover was being affectionate with me while he was making him our bitch.

After the blindfold came off Joseph was back to playing the dominant Mandingo role. We finished on the bed with him fucking Nicholas jackhammer style in the doggy position. I was not allowed to fuck Nicholas but I watched, jacking off.

I couldn’t hold it in any longer. I busted my nutt all over Nicholas face while Joseph pounded him. My semen came out of my dick in streams that covered Nicholas’ face like icing on a Danish.Then Joseph busted his load up Nicholas’ ass. They do not wear condoms with each other, I guess because they are lovers and only do penetration one-on-one.

Then I showered again and we talked for awhile and I hit the door. It was late and I had a 40-minute drive home.

Tonight Joseph and Nicholas sent me an email with this message and a picture:

Hey Immanuel,

Hope you have a good week. We enjoyed having you over last Friday. Here is a “small” memento of your visit.

Immanuel (left) and Joseph (right)  punishing Nicholas’ mouth.

Down-Low Men on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown

“Lawrence” texted me at work on Friday afternoon.

Lawrence is a married, down-low brother who is 61 years old but works out like a fiend and still has a tight, lean body. The contrast of his salt-and-pepper hair with his youngish body only makes him hotter. He is definitely a DILTF — a “Daddy I Like to Fuck.”

 Lawrence is also stone bottom — when he is ready to be fucked he is ready to be nailed.

Lawrence said he was just texting me to say hello and check out how I was making out now that I was separated from my wife. But I knew the real deal — Lawrence texts me every few months when he wants some dick from me.

He will give his wife an excuse — he is going to the gym or dropping the dog off at groomers or working at a remote office. And we will meet in a hotel room and I will push his knees up to his chest and pound my dick in his muscular, high ass missionary style. Slap! Pap! Pap! Pap!

“Yes sir, Yes sir! That’s what I’m talking about,” Lawrence will moan, sounding just like a deacon a church exhorting the minister to pray harder. Except we are in a sweaty hotel bed and he is urging me to fuck him harder.

So when Lawrence texts me on my cellphone Friday I try to prevent him from getting on the subject of the next hookup by inviting him to join a support group for down-low men I am thinking about forming.

“Let me think about that,” he answers.

“I guess that means the answer is no,” I text back.

“Well, I didn’t let my sexuality interfere with my marriage.”

“I didn’t either. My marriage was troubled before I got into guys,” I answer.

But what Lawrence texted made me mad — like I was somehow less than able because I was not continuing to juggle marriage and man sex like he continued to do. I started typing furiously on text phone, telling him that his marriage was not “good” if he was running around hooking up with men in hotels and periodically planning sexcapades with dudes while on business trips. I told him in effect he was living a lie — his marriage was just a front.

Besides I had rolled with Lawrence for a year and only seen his dick semi-erect one time. He sure as hell wasn’t fucking his wife with that limp shit.

“I understand that but at the same time I think you are faking yourself out,” I texted him. “And to a large extent your life is false.”

“Then this conversation his over!,” he texted back. I messaged him a few more times but he did not answer back.

He will call back in a few weeks when the urge to get a dick overpowers him again.

Brothers such as Lawrence trip me out. They act like desiring men is a sickness that comes and go. You get the itch, scratch it until it’s gone, and pray it doesn’t come back for a long time.

The same evening Lawrence and I fell out another married down-low brother I know, “Bruce” (Read “A Very Short Sex Party”) e-mailed me to say the urge to be with men was getting stronger. It had gotten so bad that he was frequently telling his wife he was working late but going to spend time with a male lover.

“Dude, why don’t you just separate and live your life,” I asked.

“Yeah, I’m going to have to get up out of here soon,” he said, laughing nervously. “I’m just waiting until the time is right.”

I talked to some gay buddies over the last few days about the exchange with Lawrence. I’m still feeling upset about it more than a day later and for the life of me I can’t figure out why. I know it was a text message exchange but it was like he hung up on me.

Several friends I told said some men just aren’t brave enough to step out of the down-low world and be fully gay. When I jumped on Lawrence I had probably hit a nerve, which is why he abruptly cut off contact.

“Man, living a double life is a hard thing,” one buddy said. “Having to lie all the time is stressful. It takes a toll on a brother.”

Yeah, I ought to know. That’s why I stopped doing it.