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That summer was one of the best summers ever. I took Jack to the Hamptons, we went to Chicago to visit friends (my first time there), weekends were spent sunning ourselves in Laguna, going to pool parties in the Hollywood Hills – in short, it was everything that summer should be; fun, carefree, and happy. Jack surprised me one Sunday afternoon by taking me jetskiing (another first for me) on our way back from Laguna Beach one weekend. I could not have been more excited. It was something I had always wanted to do. We hopped on the jetski and as soon as we hit the open water, took off, cutting across the glassy surface of the ocean at top speeds, laughing and screaming the entire time. Pure bliss. At one point, we hit the wake of a large yacht that had only crossed our path seconds before, and as…

Aiden was proving to be someone that was hard to get over. It had been months since we ended things, yet still I had this yearning to see him. He had since moved on and found himself a boyfriend, which by all accounts social media-wise, looked like he was blissfully happy. Our relationship had ended with me wanting more, so saying goodbye was hard for me. It was like watching a TV show that ends with a cliffhanger and doesn’t get picked up for another season, so for all you know, the hero of the show is still dangling off that proverbial cliff. And that was me. Clutching on for dear life to a cliff I knew I’d never be able to climb back on top of. Jack, of all people, asked me something in a moment of trying to comfort me one day that stuck with me, even to…

It was Pride Weekend in LA; the time when beautiful gentleman, cut like Adonis, ran rampant through the streets of West Hollywood, thrilled to show pride in their sexual identity, all while having a cocktail or two…or so I thought. Jack had invited me up from Long Beach for the event, but the night prior I ended up partying with my friend in Los Feliz instead. After a drunken textual conversation with Jack, I basically proclaimed my feelings toward him and told him that I wanted something more, which he reacted to by saying, “I didn’t think that was a possibility with you.” That night I became sicker than I ever had before because like a genius I drank on a stomach as empty as a bottle of Belvedere left at a bottle service table too long. The next morning, however, I made my way to Jack’s apartment and after…

First dates; how romantic is too romantic? It had been mere days after spending time with Jack in Laguna Beach that I had invited him over to my house for dinner. I was living in Long Beach, about twenty miles south of Los Angeles proper, and he was coming from school, about ten miles north of LA – in short, he was making a big commitment by coming down to visit me. I was kind of nervous. I wanted to be all cute and make him dinner – but what to make!? Was he picky? I wanted to whip up something impressive. I had just gotten back from the gym when he arrived. He had just worked out as well and of course he looked fucking stunning. He had been at school all day, in college for something very left-brained that I usually couldn’t have cared less about, but because…

Jack: “Does everyone here think you’re straight?” Kyle: “Yeah. And I am. Little curious though.” Jack: “Ohhh haha ok ;)” Kyle: “Haha, but you’re a good looking guy” Jack: “Ha well thx. You too” Kyle: “You should come over” The above is the first conversation I ever had with “Jack”. I had just given him my phone number and we were on a yacht, playing footsie, at sunset. Cute, right? Hours before, I just unwittingly unhinged myself from a semi-dependent friendship – or rather, a complicated relationship with another person – because of an article I had written on this very blog that completely outraged him into never wanting to speak to me again. He was done; tired of being hurt by me, a person that would never reciprocate the same feelings toward him. And also probably hurt by the fact that I admitted I wanted to date girls again.…

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