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I’m back...and this blog entry is sponsored by “wingtip shoes” and candy apple cigarettes. I could look this up but I’m a bit too much on the lazy side to figure out how long it’s been since I last posted a blog entry. But I’m sure it’s so long ago that even my one loyal reader has given up on checking my outdated blog and has disappeared into the ether. Unfortunately I am regulated to posting to those that have no idea who I am or realize the sheer boredom the next few minutes will bring them as they read this blog entry called Bottom(less) Tales in Vegas 2016. So let me be the first to apologize to all of you for wasting your time. But I am a gentleman so just to avoid all the confusion, let me tell you who I use to be a long time ago, twenty-pounds smaller, and a few thousand hair follicles ago. I was a rather prolific poet, blogger, and part-time storyteller known as Jason Rimbaud. That was a long time ago when I was still messed up on pills, alcohol and a straight boy named Mark. Do you remember now? Just in case you were wondering, I have put all three of those things firmly in my rear-view view. And if I were to be honest, the main reason I stopped blogging all those years ago , I really didn’t have much drama in my life and what little drama I had was a bit on the boring side to share with my loyal reader. Trust me, no one wants to read anything remotely about me getting up to work, working all day, going home and sleeping only to rise and repeat. That should be the title of my life, Rise and Repeat (trademark pending). Literally nothing was going on in my life. Okay, so judging from the title of this blog post, I’m sure a few of you are expecting something interesting happened to me one blistering hot day in Las Vegas. I met a boy. Not really a boy, more like an amazing wonderful guy that from here on out, I will call “G” to preserve his identity. “G” is an Indian, his family comes from Goa but he was born here in San Francisco. Lets go back to the beginning, a perfect place to start for this fuzzy bunny slippers kind of a tale. I am currently sitting at the Luxor Casino in the quaint little dessert town of Nevada known as “Sin City”. This town is aptly named because I definitely found some sin in that city. Well, two sins to be precise. It has been just over a year since I broke up with “G”. Matter of fact, almost in the exact spot I was when I first realized that we were no longer an “us”. Have you ever been in a relationship and one day you wake up and realize that what you think was perfect was actually flawed and nowhere near the vicinity of perfect? “G” and I were together for well over two years and I must say, it was the most adult relationship I have had to date. It’s been long enough that I can look back and see it for what it was…perfect for me and just average for him. Before you go and think we had epic battles and tears were shed and bodily fluids were shared with other partners, you would be wrong. In the weeks before the break-up, we went about our daily lives in a comfortable routine. A routine that I guess worked for me but left him wanting something else. I don’t believe there was another boy that took him away. I believed he came to the same conclusion I did on that fateful day in Vegas, but he came to that much sooner than I. I went to Vegas in March, last year, after a long stretch of long hours and missed days off. I had been texting him off and on all day, sharing with him my wins and my losses, when I started getting the sinking feeling that something was extremely wrong. Have you had the moment via text, when you can feel the mood shift? That’s what I felt from him that day. I could almost feel he was just replying back to me because we were together and not because he really was enjoying talking to me. We always had the most fun together, we enjoyed each other and spent most of our time laughing and joking and referencing all the inside jokes we had developed. Our texts were playful and flirty and were seldom one word replies. But that day, the replies were coming slower and slower and the words became fewer and fewer. I remember vividly sitting there at the slot machine, staring at the screen and then down to my phone, and the sudden clarity moment when I knew we were over. Matter of fact, six days later, we would be over and my life would be forever changed. I’ll be honest, mainly because he will never read this and partly because I have always been honest in these blog posts, I was lucky to have him in my life for as long as I did. “G” is a great guy and though I believe I am over him, I still think about him often and wonder how he’s doing. I am currently, as I type this, sitting at the Luxor Casino in a bar called Aura trying to get my head around the events that happened just a few minutes ago. I’m exhausted, and not in I need to pass out for twelve hours kind of way, but more like a contented exhaustion. I awoke this morning and decided I needed to clear my head and work out the memories that have been haunting me for a year. While it had been a year since “G” and I broke up, I had yet to throw my ass into the dating world. I might have been a bit too glib earlier when I acted like it was a mutual thing. It was the saddest break-up of my life. And that hurt, for a long time, and I was devastated. I couldn’t even as much look at another penis without a crippling feeling of loss. Don’t get me wrong, I joined Jacked and Grindr but no one I met even came close to “G” nor did I really feel like getting someone else fluids anywhere near me. But that was then, and this is very much right now. This morning I woke up and felt a horniness that I haven’t felt in a long time. So intense was this mental erection, I jumped on a plane and headed to my favorite vacation destination. And I did it right. I flew first class, I booked a two bedroom suite that came with a hot tub in front of the window so I could look out on the Vegas strip while soaking naked. So here I was, freshly mended heart, looking out across the dessert in one of the greatest cities in the world and I needed human contact. It was so overwhelming, I knew it was an itch only a guy could feel. What was a boy to do? Damn right! I opened Grindr. Twenty minutes later I’m sitting at the very bar I’m sitting now, chatting up this guy from Wisconsin. One drink after that, we were back in my room. He was a bit younger than me, late thirties, tall and rail thin. His name was Adam. A fitting name I thought as I was about to be partaking of the forbidden fruit for the first time in a year. I believe Adam was married and only played with men on his business outing. But he was horned up and for some reason, I was the reason. He kissed like a straight man. So like a true reformed slut, I put a condom on his peen and sat down. When I first met “G”, he was in a tragic relationship with a guy I really believe broke his heart. So much so, I don’t think there was ever a chance for us to work. He was coming off a relationship he thought was going to last forever, there was a ring and everything. Moving into my little world of craziness, he never really had the time to heal from that. I’m not the most emotional guy in the world and with just a hint of clarity in my pretty bald head, we were probably doomed from the start. But fuck me did I try, more than I ever tried before. At least I know when I do meet the right guy, I will have no trouble diving head first and doubling down. Adam had a great body, smooth and a perfect sized penis. You know the kind I mean, not so big that you can’t fit it in anywhere but not so small that makes you looked down and go “no thanks”. Looking out over the Vegas strip, pressed up against the window, I realized that was something I had been missing for a long time. As I gazed out at the twinkling lights of Mandalay Bay, I actually let out a sigh. I won’t describe the sex I had with “G”, that is for me and I won’t cheapen the memory by sharing it with you. But he was little, and I’m not talking about his down there parts, that was as close to perfect as you could get, but it had been a while since I was with someone that could really manhandle me around. I was so horned up and ready for Adam to stop kissing me, I didn’t even use lube, I just pushed back and took the pain. One, two, three, maybe five thrusts and he collapses against my back, shaking. As we kind of stood there, his weird breath on my back, silent for a moment before I said, “That was disappointing.” Think about it, it had been over a year since I had any action and fifteen seconds into it, right when it just started to feel amazing, he finishes with a grunt. I’m not sure what he was expecting nor the look that must have crossed his face when I said that. All I know is I felt him tense up, and he pushed off me and started walking over to his clothes. The condom dropped to the floor and without a word, he got dressed and left the room. I was still standing by the window, still excited and wondering what the fuck just happened and what the fuck was I going to do now. I could have taken it in hand as it were, but now I was like a man possessed. When you’ve gone a year without sex, fifteen seconds is nowhere near long enough to come close to satisfying me. No hand job in a poorly lit movie theatre, no wink wink nudge nudge, not even boom goes the dynamite. I needed dick, and for longer than fifteen seconds. I stood there kind of confused, all my blood still pooling far away from my bald head, when I heard that magic sound every Grindr user recognizes. I opened the APP, and the first thing I see is a bare stomach, two brown nipples winking at me, no face but that wasn’t what sent my stomach doing back flips. “G” was probably the first guy I ever took without a condom. And I can remember that first time we did it, like we were connected in ways that all homophobes will never understand. I don’t want to get too graphic, but fuck me, it’s an amazing feeling. Remember, it has been a year since I bottomed for anyone. An entire year, needless to say, it was a really tight fit. So maybe I can’t blame Adam for shooting so quick…maybe! So I open Grindr, and under ethnicity, I see Native American, Navaho to be precise. He was hot, 6 foot tall, runner build, amazing smile and let’s not even mention the glasses, because fuck I do like my men in glasses. What was a guy to do? I had never been with a Native American, the excitement was there, and that need to be fulfilled was still there, pounding in my brain. I told him my room number and promptly jumped into the shower to wash off Adam’s stink. After all it has been only ten minutes since Adam was all up in my business. I really hoped that Sonni, yes his name is Sonni, couldn’t tell that I just had someone else ten minutes earlier, but I really didn’t care. I was definitely seeing red at this point. Sonni was completely opposite of Adam. He was shy, so much so I also wondered how much experience he had with guys. That fear was quickly put to rest at the expert way he handled certain parts of my anatomy. But I am getting ahead of myself. While Sonni and I were chatting by the window, he wasn’t sure if he really wanted to have sex, he was a bit more interested in oral pleasure at first. But luckily for me, he took one look at my willingness and threw those plans out of the window. We made out for a while, doing a little bit of this and some dirty that, and I get another condom and in no time I am ready to go. He was bigger than Adam, one of the biggest I have been with on that end of things. But I was up for the challenge and slowly sat down. One, two, three, eight and wammo, his toes curl and he lets out a whimper and I’m back right where I started. Horned up and still not properly topped. The first time “G” topped me, the same thing happened. It was over long before it really began and after these two guys tonight, I am starting to believe I just might have a magic ass. Which might be quite difficult to accomplish at forty-one years old? But I am sitting here in this bar, a bit sore back there, but content that I was still attractive enough that two different guys in a matter of an hour, shot off because of the sensations I caused them. And for those of you that say that isn’t me as much as it has to do with them, don’t rain on my parade. I needed a confidence booster. The real difference between Adam and Sonni, Sonni isn’t leaving until Friday, that’s three days away. Who knows, maybe I can get him in my bed again for round one and half. I think I would take “G” back if he would offer. I still love him. But I also know that we grew apart in ways that neither of us can recover the distance. And just because my track record is being the king of looking back and diving headfirst into past boyfriends and all that tangled shit over and over again doesn’t mean I have to wash rinse and repeat. I miss “G” in certain moments, the fun we had, the times we shared, and all the moments that we created as an “us”. But then, for the first time in years, I was with two different guys in a matter of an hour. And yes I understand what that might make me, but after a year I think I deserved a bit of safe fun. Me and my magic ass deserve it. I’ve been in town seven hours and I already used up all my towels. What will the maid think of me when she cleans my room tomorrow? As usual, I’ve rambled on for too long to disclose the remainder of my Bottom(less) Tales in Vegas or the time when Sonni came to San Francisco and we spent nine amazing hours in bed for his birthday. But those tales are for another time and some other when.