One Day at a Time

I examined myself in the mirror one last time before I left my apartment. My brown hair was tied in a low pony tail and my outfit was casual, but calculated. The colors served as a good contrast to my pale skin and brought out my green eyes. I took care to stay in shape, and my appearance was something I was confident about. It was something I knew I had going for me for my date that night.

My experience had been mostly limited to one-night stands and hookups via Grindr for much of my adult life, but a few months ago I got the strange urge to give the dating game a try. I've had boyfriends in the past, but it was always casual. I was 25; the wild, reckless days of my youth were coming to an end. Settling down was starting to have a little appeal. I began online dating, and all the matches so far had led to sex and no real urge to go on another date. I didn't really have any reason to think this new guy was going to lead to something different, but I still wanted to put my best foot forward.

I was able to drive to the Italian restaurant he had chosen in about ten minutes. It was in the same building as an apartment complex and I had never eaten there before. When I walked in I found my date.

"Hey, Vik." I said. He grinned and returned the greeting.

"Hey, Alice."

I winced slightly. I have never had a good relationship with my name. I had no idea why my parents decided to give me such a strange burden; they seemed to like me just fine otherwise. They told me that I was named after Alice Cooper, but I am firmly of the opinion that Alice is a 100% female name. I insisted that everybody call me Al. I put that as my nickname on my dating profile and just included my real name as an aside so I could deal with it as early as possible.

"Please just call me Al. I'm not calling you Viktor," I reminded him.

He tilted his head slightly. "Oh come on, Alice is such a cute name. It suits you."

Oddly enough, I didn't hate the way my name sounded that much when he said it.

I sighed. "Do what you want."

As he got to the front to get us a table, I looked him over. He looked just like he did in the pictures he had on his profile: same short blond hair and cleanly shaven face. He was tanner than me and about two inches taller than I was, around 6'1". The only thing that surprised me was his eyes. The pictures didn't do them justice. As impossible as it sounds, they were a stormy gray, yet somehow warm at the same time. They were definitely the most striking thing about him; otherwise, he had a very clean-cut, professional appearance. Not normally my type, but he was still handsome, and we did match on the dating site.

When we got to our table, he pulled out my chair for me. It was a weird gesture, considering we were both men, but I just chalked it up to him wanting to be polite.

The two of us had dinner, and I can safely say that we were able to keep up a conversation and interact with each other just fine. We had similar tastes in music and TV, and our senses of humor complemented each other, his more playful, mine more cynical.

I kept track of how his demeanor changed as the night progressed. He seemed to get comfortable with me pretty early, his tone becoming more familiar and informal about halfway through the meal. Our table was on the small side, and he laid his hand down next to mine, keeping it there when I didn't have any reaction. A few minutes later he moved his hand, so it lightly rested on my own. He was being affectionate and tactile before he knew me for very long at all. I could tell that he was attracted to me.

Normally this was a red flag, but I let it happen because I was attracted to him, too, more and more so as the date continued. Most of the time, the earnest, nice-guy archetype was a little boring to me. I wanted something different, something exciting, but he put in the effort to treat me like a friend as well as a date. It was...nice. If nothing else I knew that we could be friends if the dating didn't lead to anything.

When the check came, he reached for it without batting an eye. I told him that I was perfectly content to split the bill.

"No." That was it, just a one-word response, like it was already decided.

"Why not?" I asked, just as bluntly.

"Because I'm treating you."

With gay men, there's usually the unspoken rule of "you invite, you pay." Vik had chosen the restaurant, so it made sense that he would offer to foot the bill, but the way he casually shot down my suggestion to go Dutch made me think that that nicety didn't really factor into his decision. Like pulling out my chair for me, it didn't seem like a calculated move, though.

While we were waiting for the bill, I thought about how the night went as a whole. He was different, for sure, but he was also refreshing. He made he want to explore further.

We were in front of the restaurant when he got really close to me and looked me square in the eye. His gray eyes sparkled playfully.

"I had a great time tonight," he said.

"Me, too," I replied, and I meant it.

He leaned in like he was going to kiss me, but halfway through he changed his trajectory so the kiss landed on my forehead. It was sweet, but really weird, not to mention that he was being a tease. I narrowed my eyes at him and he smiled.

"You wanna stop by my apartment?"

That was much more direct than I had expected. I wasn't opposed to the idea, but if he was going to play games, I would gladly play them, too.

"I don't know...I'm kind of tired..."

He kissed me again, this time on the cheek. "You could rest at my apartment. It's closer than your place." We didn't know each other's addresses at that point.

"And you know that how, exactly?"

"Because I live in this building."

I crossed my arms. "That's why you picked this restaurant, huh?"

He leaned in and kissed me on the nose. Getting warmer.

"Well, the food's good."

He wasn't bad at flirting. It was Saturday night and I wanted to go to his place, but I continued playing hard to get.

"I'm not sure..."

"Okay, can I say one more thing to try to convince you?"

I raised an eyebrow. "What?"

Without a word he cupped my face in his hands and kissed me properly.

I've kissed many men in the past. When the sexual energy is high, a kiss can be explosive and fiery. This wasn't like that. When Vik kissed me it wasn't hot as much as warm, but it was a powerful warmth. It was a warmth that seeped into my entire body. He didn't use tongue or even open his mouth, but it was startling how strong of an effect it had on me. It didn't set me on fire, but it made me melt a little.

After about ten seconds he pulled away. I paused for a moment.

"You've got quite the way with words."

He grinned. "Is that a yes?"

"Sure. I don't have anything better to do."

He led me by the hand to another entrance to the building and took me to the elevator. Once the door closed I kissed him. I opened my mouth slightly and he did the same, lightly stroking my tongue with his and gently nibbling on my lower lip. We got out on the third floor and didn't have to walk far to get to his apartment. We went in, but at that point I didn't even look around. I dove in and tongue kissed him. After a few seconds he took over and pushed forward, then I took control again. This back and forth continued for a minute or so before we had to come up for air.

He gestured to his couch and we were kissing again before we even sat. This time the intensity was much lower, more sensual than sexual. It slowed things down and we were able to take a break for a minute. I looked around his apartment. I had been in the homes of dozens of different men before. I had gotten good at looking at how they kept their living spaces and how that reflected on their personalities. Vik's place was neat, but not much so. Once you start looking, you can usually tell the differences between a place owned by a guy who was neat, and a guy who wasn't neat, but cleaned up, and Vik was definitely the latter. Cracks were forming in the "sweet and innocent" persona he had set up, at least enough for me to tease him about it.

"Don't think I can't see what's going on here."

He looked up from his phone. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Don't play dumb. You tidied up the place today. You didn't even do a good job at it. It's not spontaneous that you invited me here. You try to act like a gentleman, but you just want they same thing as all the other guys—"

He put a finger to my lips. My tone made it obvious that I wasn't actually mad at him, but I saw some color form in his cheeks anyway.

"That's probably true," he admitted. "But I do want to be a gentleman."

He grabbed my hand and kissed my knuckles. I wanted to laugh.

"In case you haven't noticed, I'm pretty old-fashioned."

I didn't need him to tell me that. So many of the things he did was textbook old-school chivalry. He was clearly trying to be Prince Charming, which meant that I was the maiden he was trying to sweep off her feet. The thing is, I'm not a maiden. I'm a man, and not a particularly feminine one at that. By all accounts, it should have been insulting, but it wasn't. Maybe it was my attraction talking, but he really came off as genuine. He wasn't being condescending; he was just being nice.

I kissed him. "Don't worry about it. You're cute when you're being a gentleman."

"Well, a true gentleman wouldn't invite someone to his house with false expectations, so I'll let you know that I don't do sex on the first date."

Once again, surprisingly blunt and tactless without warning. There's always a set of expectations when a gay man brings another gay man he's attracted to into his place. I wasn't being presumptuous to assume that it meant he wanted to sleep with me. Besides that, he invited me in, and then said he didn't want sex without any prompting. For the first time, I started getting annoyed.

To his credit, he put together how he was coming off almost immediately. His face flamed and he put his hand over his mouth. It was hilarious, I won't lie.

"I'm sorry, Alice," he said. "That didn't come out right."

I laughed. "As long as you know that. But seriously, what did you have in mind?"

He smiled and seemed to get back to how he was about thirty seconds prior. "Well, I don't swing for the fences, but I usually hit a double on the first date."

I realized that he was using the baseball euphemisms for sex.

"Why stop at second base? Most guys would let you go straight to third."

"Well, second base is actually my favorite one."

That's something I'd legitimately never heard anyone say.

"Why? Second base is so boring."

He leaned in and landed a slow, sensual kiss on my jawline. He worked his way up until he was right next to my ear.

"If you think second base is boring," he purred, "you're just not doing it right."

I grinned. "Well, then. Prove me wrong, Vik."

He lightly nibbled on my earlobe. "As you wish."

Within ten seconds we were in his room, making out on his bed. Blindly we pawed at each other's clothes, stripping us both down to shirts and underwear. I would have gone further, but Vik stopped there. He proceeded to ravish the inside of my mouth with his tongue. This wasn't the warm kiss from before, this was blazing hot. He slowed down on my mouth and moved on to the rest of my body, kissing and nipping all my exposed skin. As he did, I rubbed my hands against him, feeling his form. His body was fit, but he wasn't a gym rat. He was soft over his muscles. I liked it.

We were past the point where pretty much all the other guys I'd been with would move on from the heavy petting and bring out the dicks, but Vik kept going. He spent at least ten minutes on my neck. He kissed it, sometimes with quick pecks, other times with lingering, open-mouthed kisses. He lightly scraped his teeth against my skin. He also legitimately nuzzled my neck, which was something I knew about but never did nor been with a guy who did it. I hadn't understood the appeal, but started to when Vik nuzzled against my throat. He rubbed his nose or his cheek against my skin like he was physically addicted to my body. It was more of an affectionate gesture than a sexual one, at least until he started dry humping me. My cock hardened until it was at full mast, and I could feel his do the same against me.

He got on top of me, aggressively kissing me and grinding his covered erection against mine. I got lost in the sensation and moaned. I thought one of us was going to come, but Vik gradually slowed down. We went from dry-humping to cuddling. The kisses went from hot and heavy to sweet and gentle. Things went from red-hot to comfortably warm.

He gave me one last kiss, lightly brushing his lips against mine one more time before he rolled off to lay on the bed next to me.

"And that," he said, "concludes my argument for why second base is grossly underrated and needs more credit."

I laughed. "Damn, Vik. You could be a professor."

He smiled. "I just know what I like."

He leaned in and nuzzled my neck for a few minutes while I just lay there, thinking. We didn't have sex, but I wasn't unsatisfied. I was experiencing a feeling I wasn't really familiar with. It didn't feel as good as the genuine afterglow only real sex could bring, but I was still happy and sated.

"I'm starting to get sleepy," I said.

"That's fine," he murmured into my throat. "You can crash on the couch."

I was in such disbelief I had to pull back and look at him to see if he was joking. He was.

I punched him in the arm as he cracked up. "If you want me to leave, just say so."

He snuggled tighter against my body. "Please stay."

After a bit, we went to his bathroom and he gave me a new toothbrush to use. Initially, I thought that this was just another sign that he'd been planning on bedding me from the start, but then I saw half a dozen other cheap toothbrushes in the drawer. I guess he just buys in bulk.

When we were done brushing our teeth, we removed the rest of our clothes. We both took off our underwear at the same time and sized each other up. Both of us were semi-erect. When I was fully hard, I was six inches and thick. He looked a little thinner and slightly longer. His eyes glimmered when he looked at my naked body: trim, but toned.

"Oh, Alice...you're beautiful."

I smiled. "Thanks. You're okay."

He rolled his eyes and walked up to me. He grabbed my hips and pulled me right up against him as he kissed me deeply. We were making maximum skin-to-skin contact and it felt great. When we broke apart he kissed my forehead. I responded by kissing his cheek.

He led me back to his bed and we both got under the covers. He wrapped his arms around me and spooned against my back.

It was probably about 10 PM. I'm a night owl. Normally it would be about three more hours before I tried sleeping, but there was something about being in bed with Vik that made me comfortable and drowsy. I thought about the evening I'd had as I drifted off. It was the most low-key and modest date I had ever been on. On all the previous dates, even if they didn't go well, we could at least expect to give and get some head by the end of the night. This wasn't what I was used to, but it wasn't bad by any means. There wasn't some instant connection, but I wanted another evening with him. I fell asleep to the sound of Vik's steady breathing.

I was awoken by the sound of a phone ringing. It wasn't my phone, so it had to have been Vik's. When he awoke I heard him mutter "Crap..." under his breath.

He got out of bed and walked to the bathroom. Once the door closed, he answered the call.

I rolled over and picked up my own phone, which was on a night stand. It was just after 8 AM. Due to the time I went to sleep, I felt rested, but didn't really feel like getting up. The bed was so warm.

I listened in and heard one side of a short conversation.

"I just overslept...I'll be right there...I'm fine...love you, too."

He wrapped things up and walked back into the bedroom. He turned on the lights and I blinked a few times.

"Sorry, babe, I have to go."

I yawned. "Who called?"

He went around his room, getting dressed. "My mom."

"Does she normally call you in the morning?"

"Only when she doesn't see me at church."

I rubbed my eyes. I was wondering why he let his mom boss him around at age 24, but then the other half of his statement sank in.

"Your mom's Christian?"

He was pulling on slacks. "Yep, the most devout I've met."

Chaste, raised in a Christian household, and a bit of a Mama's boy...he was starting to slip into a stereotype all too common among gays, one that I didn't want anything to do with.

"You're out to her, right? Because I don't deal with closet cases."

Back in college I had a close friend who fell in love with a deeply closeted bisexual guy. They went out, had hot sex, and loved being together, at least when in private. He wasn't willing to commit and it put a strain on their relationship. It got to the point where my friend gave the guy an ultimatum: either he would come out or they were over. To my friend's horror, the man he loved chose the latter option. One of my best friends had his heart shattered because somebody had more fear of judgment than love for him. At that point, I made it one of my few rules to only get in relationships with guys out of the closet. It was too complicated and painful otherwise.

Vik was buttoning up his shirt as he answered. "You don't have to worry, she knows."

There wasn't any bitterness in his voice, but I was still curious.

"How'd she take the news?"

He shrugged. "It's not like she approves, but I was 19 when I told her, old enough to live my own life and make my own decisions."

He was quickly putting on some dress shoes as he added "Besides, she knows I try to be a good Christian in all other respects."

Huh. I was under the assumption that Vik was only going to church to please his mother, but apparently, he did it because he wanted to.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and looked up at me.

"I have to head out, what's your number?"

I told him and he punched it into his phone. He got a bag sitting in the corner of his room. Before he left, he leaned over me and kissed me.

"Sorry, Alice, but I'm late. You can let yourself out when you're ready. My front door locks on its own. I'll text you."

With that, he was out the room and out the door.

Alone in his apartment, I mulled over all the new information. I'd always been agnostic, religion was never really something I thought about. It never occurred to me to ask my dates about it. I've heard horror stories about how gays were treated by Christians, but Vik at least seemed to turn out fine. I figured that it wasn't really my business what God he chose to worship. Still, it explained some of Vik's oddities, and I was curious about a few things. I looked around the room and noticed something I hadn't before: a Bible on the nightstand, right next to my phone. I thumbed through it to see dog eared pages, highlighted words, and notes in the margins throughout the book. It wasn't a prop, he definitely knew it inside and out. I put it back the way I found it and got out of bed. Vik said he'd text me, so I could just ask my questions then. In the meantime, I gathered my things so I could head home.

As promised, Vik texted me that afternoon. We texted on and off for the rest of the day. I asked him where he worked, and he gave me an office not too far from the real estate agency I worked at. I knew a coffee place between the locations, and our lunch hours lined up.

I want to meet for coffee sometime this week, I texted. I chose my words carefully, not phrasing it as a question, but not making a demand, either.

He answered about five minutes later. Sure. How does Tuesday sound?