Between cleaning and making a mess, I’d rather make a mess. I’m not exactly a slob but I’m not pristine either. My apartment is my private sanctuary. I don’t particularly like having visitors over because that means I have to clean. If I don’t tidy up the place, I’m afraid people will judge me for having a dirty house so you can take the visitors, I’ll keep the dust.
It happened last year on a cold November night. I had been suffering from an autumnal malaise; it had been a dry season for me and it was time to break the spell. So I logged on to Adam4Adam.com, a site where Adam meets Adam. My profile says: “Asian, into safe fun but can go from mild to wild. I am an alternative looking artist who’s into Cranberries, Cake and Spoon. These are bands that I like.”
I have a rule on online cruising. If in half an hour you have not received an instant message you are bound to spend the evening with Hulu or Pandora Radio. Looking for sex is like looking for parking. When you don’t really need it, it’s everywhere but when you desperately want it, you just have to valet.
On the twenty-seventh online minute I was ready to sign off but I heard that chime, a wink from TopSam323. I looked at his profile and in an instant I was attracted. He was twenty-six years old, had a swimmer’s build and looked like a model for an American Apparel ad. He was cute, and I think we complimented each other. I’m not that young but I can still look like an Urban Outfitter. His profile said he was Colombian-Israeli and seeking a “lean to athletic hottie, ethnicity unimportant.”
Looks promising, I said to myself. So I messaged back, “wanna play? I’m free tonight.”
He replied, “It’s going to take me another hour, so can I just text you when I’m on my way?”
I replied, “Sure, take your time.”
A deal is closed faster when you use fewer words. Let’s face it - if it’s just a bootie call, no need to establish the conversational chemistry. Texting is enough. Also, less talk gives me more time to clean the house and set up the ambience.
I art directed the mess of my house, I “feng shuied” the bookshelves, turned off all the compact fluorescent lights and put on the halogen lamps. Lighting is very important; it translates chaos to harmony with just a flick of a switch. After a little bit of cleaning, I created a playlist for the evening’s interlude. Music is very important when you’re having sex, it can heighten or dampen the energy. I always put an element of “butchness” in the music I play because if there’s too much Madonna or Lady Gaga, your booty call might turn into a pumpkinseed. I play the songs of say Nine Inch Nails or Depeche Mode i.e. the industrial sounds or what I call fuck music.
He texted, “On my way.” I texted back the letter “k,” he responded with the letters “c,” “u.” The conversation was now reduced to just letters, which made me comfortable because that means we’d go straight into action. Then I heard a knock and when I opened the door, he was really gorgeous.
“I’m Roy,” and offered my hand.
With a muffled voice, he introduced himself, “I’m Sam and I’m deaf.”
What do you answer when a sexy visitor tells you he’s deaf? I realized we were never really trained in school on how to respond when meeting someone who was deaf. So I just answered, “That’s so cool.” His response was a kiss. But we both felt the need for words.
Little did I know my apartment was equipped for closed captioning. I motioned him to sit down and showed that there were two keyboards hooked up to my computer. He understood me and together we launched Microsoft Word. The topics ranged from the four languages he spoke to my interest in learning sign language. I knew the conversation established how much we liked each other because we were already typing well into our fourth page. On the fifth page our fingers were stuck on the QWERTY keys then I typed, “let’s go to bed.”
The bedroom lights were dimmed and the mood was set up. I gestured to him to wait. I was going to put on my playlist when it dawned on me that he was deaf and was not going to care what I played. I disregarded iTunes and logged on to Pandoraradio.com. As it was launching, the first strains of music I heard was that of Liza Minnelli at Radio City Music Hall. I’d never made love with Liza in the background so this was just fabulous. The overture was sensational, the perfect soundtrack for foreplay, a prelude to an evening of quiet passion. We were both getting into it. There’s an added layer to sex without words: you open your eyes when you kiss, you really look at your partner’s face and you let your eyes do the talking. Then comes a point when the eyes can’t do the dirty talk any more and I love dirty talk. I didn’t want to instigate it because I didn’t know if he could read my lips, so I just breathed heavily. But we both had the desire to speak the language of the vile and so organically it manifested into grips, slaps and spanks.
I usually play the role of the receiver in bed and I play it from different angles so I feel I should be making loud sounds. Sometimes though making sounds can turn off your partner so I keep it to a minimum and usually with a deep masculine voice or a “gangsta” groan. When I lay on my stomach and assumed my favorite pose, I started making noises, started talking like a girl and said, “Help me, help me, there’s a mercenary in my bed and he’s assaulting me.”
After squeezing the last grapefruit from my greyhound we both smiled and gave each other the succulent looks of gratification. We took a break and lay in bed. I knew the pillow conversation would never happen and that was the downside of hooking up with a deaf guy. I’m not the only one with special needs. So I took out my sketchbook and drew a portrait of him. I drew him slowly while he stared at the dimly lit lamp on the nightstand.
As I smudged the charcoal on the sketchpad, I could hear Liza hitting the highest octave of “New York, New York,” in the background fading. I showed him the finished picture and he gave me a thumbs-up. We said our goodbye with a little lesson in sign language. I got a text from him an hour later saying how much he enjoyed the evening; I texted back “me 2.”
I really liked Sam. He made me appreciate silence and I wouldn’t have minded hanging with him again. I still have his number but have never had the guts to text him again. I recently logged on to Adam4adam; and to my chagrin, Sam’s profile was no longer active. I was disappointed. As I was about to log off, Cute Cub in LBC sent me an instant message, “wanna play?” He was cute, stocky and like his screen name, bear-like. His profile said, “Likes to cuddle.” I paused for a bit and looked around the apartment. It was still the way it was when Sam left but now covered with silent dust.
I answered back, “I can’t. The apartment is dirty!”