When one is single, working out and staying in shape is important for the wrong reasons. Most will say that it’s for their health and wellness, and mask the fact that they’re sweating it out to better their chances of hooking up come time to play the field. I recognize that there are people who take their health and fitness seriously, but during the partying years?.. Let’s be real, everyone has ass on the mind. If not for health and wellness, does the reason for exercise change when you land that special someone?
Something happens when you become one with another; at least it did for me. Before S, I was a heavier guy, and legitimately began working out and dieting to add years to my life. Now that I’m married, I find myself working harder than I had before on my health and overall fitness. My reason for working out, in addition to general health, is to maintain my attractiveness for my husband. I get off knowing that I look good, and even more so when I know it’s for him and our relationship. Hey now, I work out for me too! I love working out in the morning, and gain so much energy going into my day. I even workout on weekends to keep my energy on the up and up.
I’ve come a long way from refusing to run in gym class back in high school, to doing cardio, yoga, and strength training five to six times a week. S has gone through his own fitness transformation as well, but doesn’t possess the cocky confidence that I do. Even when I was a bigger guy – pushing three hundred pounds – I could work with what I had and still pursued guys without hesitation. I love when I catch guys eyeing my husband, and how he doesn’t even notice. What I love more is when other, thirsty, guys realize what they have to get through before they can get to S.
I find it entertaining that even after you’ve entered a serious relationship, you still have to maintain what you had once worked so hard to obtain, to keep your prize. By no means am I saying that you need to be in shape to keep a partner. We share numerous cheat days and battle the scale together now – after falling off our low carb wagon here and there – and gain great pleasure when we notice changes in each other physically. Earlier I said that working out, as a single partier type, was done for the wrong reasons. When it comes down to it, maybe working out (then) for the approval and validation of others is just practice… We say we do it for ourselves, to make ourselves feel better, but eventually all that nonsense, worry, and stress turns into the very elixir that provides us the power to keep a comfortable grip on what we’ve achieved.
Sexual appetites are something that need to be fed in order to keep a relationship flowing. People can get along fine within a relationship without sex, but for how long? Being realistic, what is a long-term relationship without regular sex? Some argue that sex is not the most important factor when it comes to making a long-term relationship last, and others say the opposite and argue that it is the most important factor. When it came to my relationship – before I had any relationship, really – I knew that sex would be big factor. Being a big astrology and zodiac enthusiast, I fully embrace my Scorpio identity, and carry a great amount of sexual energy; Scorpios are said to be the most sexually dominant of the astrological circle. When S and I were living apart from one another, I could confidently expect to get some action at least once a week; during weekend visits. Now that we lived together, I wondered how often sex would come.
Most guys – even us gays – welcome the idea of being drowned by sex once living with a partner commences. Dan Savage’s “Savage Lovecast” is a weekly sex and relationship podcast S and I both listen to regularly. Savage’s sharp, honest, and enduringly blunt tone has a way of getting one’s mind to open up regarding everything sex; not to mention all the stories and experiences shared by listeners, both gay and straight, of the show. We took our relationship one day at a time. There were never any specific talks regarding how much sex either one of us expected, so I would do my best to close the deal any time I was in the mood; and I was in the mood pretty often. Much to my dismay, I found that I would have more adjusting to do when it came to our shared life.
Adjusting sexually to one another isn’t a bad thing. Internalizing any rejection during dry spells, I would feel pretty down – even paranoid or worried – when more than a couple weeks would pass without any intimate, nighttime action. I’d become accustomed to sex at least once a week, so anything less than that forced feelings of insecurity and visions of red flags on the horizon. What I came to learn was that my sex drive was way higher than his. Being the paranoid individual that I am, I would ask questions: “is it me? What’s wrong? Did you get off today?” I wasn’t looking for signs of cheating, but I was looking for a way to make him want sex as much as I did.
I found the answer wasn’t to make him want sex more, but to adapt and have fun whenever play-time did come around. Sexually I am satisfied. My feelings of insecurity were completely natural, because sadly, we humans pay attention to the negative more than the positive of a situation. When it comes to us, the good continues to outweigh the bad. There are weeks where I am more than happy in the sex department, and plenty of times where I am caught off guard – in the best and most appetizing ways – by him. Sexually starved is definitely something we are not, and having lived together for going on a year and a half now, we are more than pleased with each other in every aspect of the subject. Patience is an ongoing lesson, but one thing I will continue to harass him about? Is a lap dance. If I can get a lap dance out of S, I would probably pass out from shock and/or excitement (lol).
There were no storybook-happy-endings looping in my head when it came to S and I living together. What I enjoy most about our relationship is that it doesn’t feel like work, we blend, and above anything else we respect each other. All of this sounds pretty great when reading it aloud, but the reality of the situation is that not every day is smooth sailing. There are days that feel like our relationship is work, and depending on the situation, our problem-solving skills have to come into play. In the past my role as the token gay friend plagued me with the curse of knowing all details of my friend’s relationship ups, downs, and all the drama that nested between their frequent battles. Looking back on my time as a couple’s counselor – providing advice while having not been in a relationship of my own – the hours spent on phones or over coffee, listening to bitching and moaning, really turned out to be a gift. All the advice I provided to my coupled friends in the past, was now mine to apply to my own relationship.
Much like the beginning of a new relationship, the honeymooner phase returns when you move in with one another. Our honeymoon phase didn’t last very long, mostly because there was a natural feeling about being with each other; that or we are a couple of boring queens compared to the shenanigans of our friend’s relationships. If there are fights we manage to just talk through the problem, and learn from what happened. S doesn’t like to talk about problems all the time, but I don’t let the subject die until it’s completely solved; this may seem annoying for S, but I don’t do well with negative energy. Beyond the fights, there are other things like learning his pet-peeves – I’m saving that topic for a future post – and various other things that probably drive me crazy, as I’m sure there are things I do that drive him up the wall. So far it has been smooth sailing, and I’m happy that I have been fortunate enough to not run into any situation that required the application of any advice I once shared with flustered friends. We have our days where we both feel like wrapping hands around each other’s throat, but without that flicker of irritated emotion… every once in a while… I would be more worried; because at least we know we care…
It’s the wedding day of one of my best college friends, and I am leaving her reception early. The only obstacle between me and this date is the bride’s mother. Leave it to me to overbook myself, and schedule a date the night of a friend’s wedding. I manage to escape receiving every ounce of understanding and well-wishes from the bride and her mother. “You’re going to be in more trouble if this guy doesn’t pan out! I love you, good luck honey.” Mrs. S was one of my Indiana moms; always looking out for me and treating me like one of her own children. As I make my way back to the hotel in downtown Indianapolis, my mind reels as I scroll through mental images of he and I’s past encounters during our college days. Wild and free, we ran in the same social circles but somehow managed to not cross paths; actively avoiding friend’s pitches for blind dates. “You have to meet my friend! You’ll love him!” was a common exclamation heard as a gay male in college with a healthy number of female buddies. I hate blind dates. The gesture of being set up by your friends is nice, but ninety percent of the time, they miss the mark. He and I never saw each other regularly, but there were two drunken hook-ups after a night at the bars, and my pursing him (unsuccessfully) for an actual date.
We had not been in contact for a couple of years now, and ended up reconnecting shortly after I moved back to Indiana just a few weeks prior to the wedding. “Did I choose the right outfit? Did he look at my good Facebook pictures?” These thoughts make me seem like a clammy teenager, but I had lost about forty pounds since the last time we physically saw each other, and I was actually nervous. Nervous was never a present trait when it came to me and dates. What was it about him? “I’m parking” was the text message that came through. I’ve changed from slacks and a tie to dark, slim jeans, a black tank top, and my favorite mustard cardigan. “I’m here.” I grin as I get on the elevator. Not knowing how this night will go, the peaks of excitement are that of which I’ve never experienced entering a date, and the elevator ride feels too long and too fast all at the same time. This level of stage fright was intense, but not unwelcome.
Turning the corner and walking into the lobby, I spot him. Have you ever put together a soundtrack to your own life? Okay, maybe that’s a little cheesy, but I own my cheese… all of it. I’m not sure what song was playing when our eyes met, but I knew it was a song we would both know; whether that be in this moment, or in the future. My nerves vanished, the roller coaster, stomach tumbling sensation remained, and my confident strides turned into weak, timid advances. He wasn’t that string bean of a boy I once rolled around with back in college. In front of me was a man… a comfortably familiar man that I was meeting for the first time it seemed. His fitted jeans paired with a blue button up shirt, his milky skin, and his scruff… man, that scruff, caused my smile to gain at least an inch or more. The hug we shared was both inviting and telling. His body spilled his nerves onto mine, and I could sense it would be a night to remember. Looking into bright brown eyes, I let out a simple “…hello” as shared sparks continued to exert their influence.