The past few weeks have been a whirlwind of change from me. I’ve gone from being the druggy-slut to dating the drug dealer, and now I’m a married man. It’s been great, but I guess I should have expected that all good things must come to end. Thankfully, I have this as an outlet to express my feelings and share both my good and bad times.
Last week, I got married following an unexpected proposal from Anthony. Not only is he the drug dealer, but he is also physically perfect and could charm the robe off the pope—and probably has.
Following our wedding in the park, we went back to the apartment where he once again carried me across the threshold. The same as he did the first day I brought him home. As he lifted me up, things started to move in slow motion as the past month flashed before my eyes. And little did I know that I would have the whole afternoon and evening to sit around thinking. That’s because Anthony plopped me down on the couch then informed me that he had drug runs to make. However, he surprised me by saying we would be leaving for our honeymoon later that night.
As I sat there, feeling so alone, on my wedding day, it was the ups and downs that dominated my thoughts. Although many disappointments with Anthony popped in my head, each was followed with the way he eventually made it all slip out of my mind.
Suddenly, two of my favorite things popped into my mind… Manhunt and Adam4Adam. I had not been on either of those sex sites in weeks. So naturally, I had to log into both. I had at least a hundred or so messages between the two. Naturally, I read them like a book. That’s when I realized how little time had passed since I met Anthony, and that I was expected to fuck the same person for the rest of my life. The next thing I knew, he was calling.
After I answered Anthony’s call, I felt horrible! I couldn’t believe I wasted the whole evening reading messages on hook up sites. He was calling from downstairs telling me to be ready to leave for our honeymoon when he got up here. I jumped up in a panic just as he opened the door.
“Let’s go,” he commanded. For once in my life, I was speechless. The only thing I could think was to blame sleep.
“I passed out and haven’t even showered yet,” I blurted out.
He handed me a loaded pipe. “This should wake you up,” he smiled. “It’s already 11, so we should get out of here. You can shower when we get there.”
So off we went. Anthony already had a car waiting downstairs, so we hopped in it. He handed the driver a sheet of paper and told him to take us to that address. Next Anthony informed me that I would be blind folded for the rest of the commute. He did, however, give me a fruity drink that tasted a little gross. He was always making me drink his nasty power smoothies.
Within no time, we arrived at our destination. Right out of the cab, we walked into a building and he told me to wait in the lobby with the blindfold on. It only took him about five minutes to come back and get me, but I already knew we were in the presence of fellow fags. That’s because I heard at least two people refer to my blindfold. “Gurrrrllll!” one hooted. “Kinky!” hollered the other.
No one else said a word as he guided me up the elevator and through at least one or two doors. At first, I kept thinking we were at a nightclub, but knew it couldn’t be for two reasons. One, I for sure smelled a hot tub. Two, there was music playing but it wasn’t loud enough to be a club. Where could he have possibly taken me on our honeymoon?
When he finally ripped off my blindfold, I knew exactly where we were. Anthony had lugged me to the West Side Club on our honeymoon. For those of you who aren’t familiar, that’s a bath house in Chelsea. I started to get angry, but then I started to feel good as the small room started to swirl. Then I realized the sip of the nasty drink I had in the car on the way over was GHB. He knew I was getting messy. I could tell with his giggle.
“I’m feeling my G too,” he mumbled. “Strip down and grab a towel, let’s check out the meat market.” And with that I didn’t see my new husband for at least three or four hours.
We must have gotten separated in the dark hallway after he guided me to the public shower. I don’t remember much. I couldn’t remember my name, much less our room number. So, I wandered around a bit until I ran into a smokin’ hot dude on the lower level and followed him. Smokin’ hot also because he was smoking meth in his small room, and it definitely helped scramble my brain a little bit more as we began what would turned into hours and hours of crazy sex.
When I finally stumbled back into Anthony, he was riding a stranger’s cock a couple of rooms down from ours. He handed me the key and pointed towards the room. I dropped onto the tiny bed. I woke up much later at home in our bed.
Anthony had already gone to work, and he left a note saying he would see me later. That night, he sent me a cryptic text: “won’t be home til morning. Something’s going down and I got 2 lay low.” I didn’t really believe him as he had never been one to leave out details, unless he was hiding something. I also remember him telling me that he wasn’t good at lying, so leaving out details seemed appropriate. The following night he called and told me that his battery had died, and he said he was going to have to ditch his phone. All he could tell me was that he hoped to be home before morning.
I didn’t hear from Anthony for three weeks after we hung up that night. At first, I was so angry. That anger, however, turned into relief after a few days. Either I realized that our marriage was a huge mistake, or I convinced myself that it was. It didn’t matter in the end. I was over him as quickly as I fell for him.
His phone had been disconnected, and frankly I don’t know him well enough to track him down. When he did finally call, he left a message on my voicemail. I don’t answer “unkown” calls, and I had already given up on ever hearing from him again. On the voicemail, he said he was sorry and that he was on Ryker’s Island. I was mad again. How could he leave me for a getaway to some Island? A few days later I decided to do a Google search for Ryker’s Island. That’s when I found out that he was on a getaway alright, compliments of the City of New York. Anthony was in jail.
The next time the “unknown” number called, I answered immediately. I heard Anthony on the line. He actually sounded great. He said jail had turned out to be fun. He compared it to living in a bath house. I guess that meant it was one long honeymoon for him. He also apologized for marrying me, because he knew that he was going to be behind bars for a long time. Upon release from jail, he will also be deported since apparently he was an illegal immigrant. Unfortunately, gay weddings aren’t recognized by the federal government, so our marriage wasn’t enough to keep him here.
I got a letter from him a few days later. It said nothing more than he got bored sometimes, and that he had a hot gay cell mate with whom he had passionate sex with when the guards were changing shifts. It almost makes you want to get locked up, doesn’t it?
There’s a new reading in my crystal ball now. It looks like I could be the first gay man divorced in New York. I’ll have to figure out how to make that happen, I suppose.
Please come back to GaySocialites.com on Sunday for a bonus edition of Dylan’s Crystal Ball. If you’ve been shocked by my writings so far, then what I have to tell you then is going to blow your socks off!