The day of our meeting rapidly drew near, and I was incredibly stressed out.
I had been on dates with girls before and had not felt this much nervousness about looking good for them. It was as if a part of me desperately wanted to impress Steph for our first face-to-face despite it being simply two friends meeting for a coffee. I had already picked out a pair of designer jeans and a new polo shirt a day before and ironed them impeccably.
That morning, I had showered, shaved, and, for some reason, even gave myself a trim all over, particularly 'down there,' to tidy up. I couldn't explain why the latter made sense to me when getting ready, but it felt like the right thing to do since I had been grooming myself and wanted to essentially 'go all the way.' However, as I started trimming myself, I began to debate myself on what I was doing with my life.
'Agreeing to meet a gay man from a hook-up website is insane! Am not supposed to go meet the guy, this was supposed to be just an online friendship or whatever.' I thought to myself.
As my body hair fell to the tiled bathroom floor, another part of myself chimed in to reason with myself over my fears.
'Well, it's not just some random man... It's Steph, he's nice and understands me. He is a friend and I can trust him. Besides, it's just a coffee, I gotta be cool about this, I am not doing anything wrong here.'
As the little machine hummed away, I asked myself one last question.
'Is this why am I trimming 'down there' then?'
I was unable to formulate an honest explanation. I felt conflicted, but I also carried on trimming nevertheless, as the part of myself that wanted to meet Steph had decided to carry on no matter what argument I came up with.
'This is fine, it does not mean anything... I was going to do it anyway, I am not doing it for Steph'.
I felt ashamed because I knew I had lied to myself deep down, as I could not justify my actions. After I finished getting ready, I told my parents I was on my way to the classes on campus and headed out to meet Steph.
We had settled to meet up at a quiet street off of the main road, which would make picking me up easy and avoid traffic. I had arrived at our meeting point early and found a spot in the shade while I anxiously waited for Steph, my heart beating fast. Around ten minutes later, I saw a big white SUV turn into the little stretch of road and approach me. As it got closer and rolled to a gentle stop right next to me, I saw a very well-dressed black man at the wheel. He rolled down the window with a smile; it was Steph.
"Hey! Sorry for the wait... get in!" said Steph in a rich, deep voice.
I nervously smiled, slid into the front passenger seat, and closed the heavy door behind me.
"Hi... no it's fine, I just got here. How was your trip?" I replied shyly.
We made conversation about random things as he navigated the narrow roads to reach the main streets again, and I gradually felt the nervousness fade as I got over what I was doing. As planned, Steph was trying to find a cafe where we could enjoy a coffee and talk peacefully. Alas, with the dense traffic on the main road, we were moving at a snail's pace, although we kept talking, and it didn't seem so bad. We reached the nearest cafe around ten minutes later, and much to our dismay, it was crammed full of high school students. We returned to the car to try the next cafe, and we had the same problem; the school day had ended about half an hour ago, and kids had flooded all nearby places to hang out as teenagers did.
We didn't have any alternative plans, and there wasn't any discreet parking anywhere where we could converse in the car if we got our coffees 'to go' either. But Steph came up with a great idea: we could have a drive in the suburbs on the long, quiet roads where the traffic would be easier. It wasn't what I had in mind, but at least we wouldn't be sitting in traffic as we had been for most of the last half hour, so I agreed, and off we went.
During our drive, I started to have a proper look at Steph in the corner of my eye, and I had to admit he did look every bit as good and muscular as his pictures. He was about six feet tall, if not a tiny bit taller, with a muscled body, more akin to a swimmer's musculature than a bodybuilder's with striking facial features. He also carried himself well; he walked tall and proud, radiating confidence and energy, and seemed very at ease to be the center of attention. He looked like he had just come from the barber shop, but he always looked well-groomed in all his pictures. A little part of me hoped that maybe he got a fresh haircut because of meeting me, but I pushed the thought away as me being silly. As I looked at him discreetly, my eyes wandered further down his body to his jeans, and I thought, 'Wow, he's just like in his photos... that means his huge dick was right there too...', I felt my heartbeat pick up and butterflies in my belly, so I repressed that train of thought.
As he slowly navigated the traffic jams to leave the main road, we stopped at a red light, and he asked me if I was still feeling shy or nervous around him. I smiled, replying that I felt great; Steph looked at me, grinning slyly, and said he was a bit worried I'd be too shy after telling me about all the naughty things he got up to with his dates. I laughed, telling him I hadn't even thought about that and that I loved listening to his stories before trailing off in a bit of a mutter as I blushed and felt my cheeks heat up under his gaze.
Steph could see I was shy, but he carried on teasing me; he asked what made his stories so interesting to a good straight boy like me. I felt my whole body heat up as I blushed; I was too shy to come up with an intelligent or even coherent reply.
"Uh, I don't know, I just do," I mumbled.
