It’s been two years—two years without sex, queer spaces, or even the possibility of flirting in public. Like I mentioned in my last post, I left NYC to move to a tiny, conservative town in Mexico to care for my grandma. Yes, I miss sex. Not just the act, but the spark, the tension, the playfulness. Sometimes, honestly, I dream of meeting someone, buying a last-minute flight, and spending a whole week locked up in a hotel room just making up for lost time. 😂
I haven’t dated since I got here. I tried Grindr once or twice, but the chats were so uninspired, so bland—I never even met up with anyone. Not because I feel superior, but because I crave chemistry, confidence, and that feeling of “damn, I need to see you now.” Mediocrity and small talk are the ultimate buzzkill.
What I didn’t expect was how much I’d end up connecting with older gay men. Hans Peter, for example, became my favorite vacation companion. He grew up between Switzerland and Mexico—his dad brought Nestlé here and became CEO. Hans Peter fell hard for his “straight” best friend as a teen, only to have his heart broken when the guy denied everything and got a girl pregnant.
[continue in the comments🌈]
