Patrick from Williamsburg truly was a work of art.
I stumbled upon him on Grindr, initially looking for a fling to pounce on and came across the profile of a bearded Irishman with potential to take me up his sweet ass.
"Hi and hello to you, too," he said, as he came off brash for me not properly courting him. "There used to be a time that a guy could speak to another guy and not necessarily gawk and disrespect him. A little positive dialogue goes a long way."
I wasn't in the mood for a lesson in cruising, or better trying to date someone as I just wanted a nut.
"If that's what you're looking for, with me you'll be severely disappointed," said the 59-year-old.
He claimed the status of "proud bottom," and so I took a chance to see just how proud, as I was hard checking his profile.
"Sex isn't the only thing that's on my mind, Keenan," he told me.
Anyone else would've dropped the pursuit, but Patrick presented a challenge I was willing to execute, for the salt and peppered goatee carrying chub, with his blue eyes and soft lips had my full attention. He had a certain mystique, a distinct charm reflective of his profession as described in his profile.
"Social worker for special needs clients," read one part of a sentence.
I looked at his stoic photos as he didn't crack a smile, yet there was a type of warmth in his eyes, as I could see his intriguing soul. I'd see a trustworthy man, one who was guarded yet dependable, independent, and didn't bare much of his naked body aside from one photo of himself at the beach, exposing his nipples accidentally.
"I'm Keenan," I told him the first time I messaged him
"I'm glad you gave me your name," he responded as he for sure would be a tough cookie.
I'd close the initial chat between us after 30 minutes of going back and forth, with me trying to see if he would be a hard nut to crack regarding "petting time."
Two days later and this handsome man was still on my mind, and so I logged on again, intent on trying to sway him to agree to a meet.
"You like bagels," he asked me.
I told him yes, and the ice was broken as he would suggest we meet at Aromas Coffeehouse, a local spot that served bagels.
"You willing to drive to Williamsburg one day and meet me here, so we can talk," he asked.
I said yes, thinking it would happen a day or two later, only for it to be three months.
"Keenan, we have lives, ya know," he told me when I asked why he waited so long to hang. "Besides, I needed to feel you out."
"You could've felt me out in other ways," I told him.
He was unimpressed by my words as we finally heard each other's voices, seeing each other in person as the short, pot bellied man with the pocketed t-shirt and cargo shorts was in my presence. I loved the New Jersey native's twang, and he admired my Virginia drawl as we sat and talked before being served piping hot bagels and tea.
"What you're used to are these horny old dogs, stepping out on their wives or husbands, that want to suck or ride some cock. I'm not that type of guy," he told me as he tugged his jewelry.
He had a golden cross on his chest, indicating his religious beliefs as he rubbed it while we made eye contact.
"Pat, you can't shame anyone else for being online and seeking," I told him as he passed judgment for those on the same site as him.
He tried justifying his profile by saying he was merely looking for friends, and I made it clear to him that the friends he spoke of had to have been big cocks, as Pat's rump from what I could see needed a reinforced dick for entry and pinpoint.
"I don't have sex like you may think," he said.
"You stated you're a bottom," I told him.
"I am, and damn proud, but it's not always about me bending to my knees or bending over. I'm not insatiable or nomadic in different beds. I'm perfectly content with pleasuring myself if it comes to it," he said to me.
We'd sit there for three hours just dialoguing and vibing without mentions of sex the remainder of the visit. I learned that he was a father to two sons, and a grandfather to three boys and two girls, with his face lighting up as he showed photos. Patrick was a locked-in family man that would bulldoze anyone that interfered with his blood from what I witnessed. I looked at pictures of him holding his grands, and he earned another layer of respect from me aside from wanting to be balls deep in his backside. I knew I still needed to venture more into the mind of this man before I could even attempt to get in bed with him.
"Maybe next time I'll come and see you on the Southside," he suggested when it was over.
"Next time? You making it a point for a part two," I asked.
