Page 53 of Toxic

Steve knew that and especially realized that young people grow up and make their own way in the world. But Miranda fading out of his life stung. He thought of her as much as he thought of Connor. Whichever one he thought of, his ruminations centered around happy memories and a nostalgic longing for completeness he wasn’t sure had ever existed.

Ah! The day was too glorious to dwell on such sadness. Steve pushed open his sliders and stepped out on to his small balcony to breathe in the eighty-something-degree breeze. Summers in Seattle were the antithesis of what most people believed about the Emerald City—the endless days of misty rain, gray skies, and chill it was famous for—no, summers possessed just about the most perfect climate you could find anywhere on earth. Days were mostly sunny and warm, with low humidity, and highs in the upper seventies and low eighties. Nights were cool and breezy.

Summers were perfect for hiking in the Cascades, kayaking on Lake Union, cycling along the trails, flying a kite at Gas Works Park, or simply strolling around the Central Park of Seattle—Green Lake.

And today, Steve didn’t want this rare Saturday off, with its magic weather and sunshine, to go to waste.

It had been too long since he’d so much as chatted with another guy. His life had become routine—and sad. Lonesome. Work, TV, sleep, and repeat. Over and over again until he felt more like he was simply floating through life rather than truly living it.

So he came back inside and sat at his computer. He brought up Adam4Adam, because it was a free site, easy to access, and because one of his coworkers had just found the love of his life there, after way too many nearly anonymous hookups.

Love of his life or an anonymous hookup, Steve thought, were both options for alleviating boredom, chasing away the blues caused by loneliness, and getting himself back into the land of the living.

He got up for a moment and went into the kitchen to pour himself an iced tea. When he returned to his desk, he brought up Adam4Adam to browse through the thumbnail portraits. Steve thought it was sad that most of them were nothing more than porn. He shook his head. As tempting as the round asses and hard dicks were, Steve always wondered why anyone would debase themselves by reducing their whole being to a picture of a butt or genitals. Just like most men, he found these body parts titillating, thrilling, stimulating. But obviously, unlike most gay men on the hookup site, he preferred butts and cocks to be attached to a real man.

He much preferred a profile that showed a smiling face over a rigid cock. Rigid cocks had their place, he thought, but talking to one? Always disappointing!

He scrolled through the profiles, after setting his filters for men five miles or fewer away, having a photo, and being online right now. It was always amazing how many guys were online at any given time, just like Steve. He imagined them all across the city at this very moment, hunched over mobile devices, staring at computer screens, all horny and hopeful. Some cynical. Some believing that at the end of this online rainbow he’d find a mate worth a pot of gold.

He was old enough to remember a world before apps and online dating and hookup sites. Back in the day, when you wanted to meet a man, you headed to Capitol Hill and hit the bars. There was no swiping left or right or sending messages. You knew who was in close proximity not because an app with GPS told you, but because they stood across the bar. You made eye contact. You flirted. You chatted. Or you waited, with hope in your heart and lust elsewhere, for someone to come up and chat.

A one-night stand always held the possibility of turning into something. Often, those encounters would be nothing more than unremarkable, little better, really, than masturbating. Sometimes worse, disappointing more often than not. But the one thing they always contained was a kernel of hope. And sometimes, hope fulfilled its promise. A sexual encounter could lead to a long-term relationship or even a good friendship. With the latter, one day the two of you might laugh about the way you met.

These days, the bars weren’t as popular. Many had closed as online venues proliferated and thrived. The bars that did remain open, Steve had discovered, were gathering places for younger people. Sad—even the people in clubs often had heads bent over phones, searching for who might be nearby on Grindr or Scruff. What ever happened to simply talking to the object of your desire?

Everything changed.

Defeated, he realized his only hope might be wading through a site like Adam4Adam and applying his own personal filters—no hooking up without meeting in person first and dating, rather than sex, as the main objective. These were what passed for lofty goals in the romantic world of the twenty-first century.

He was new to the site, having created his profile only a few days ago, so he was surprised to find there were already two messages in his inbox. One was the standard form message welcoming new members to the site and encouraging them to sign up for the more fully featured—and pay—version.

But the other message was from a guy with a handle most subscribers under forty wouldn’t recognize—Fess Up Parker. Of course, Steve knew the reference immediately. Back when he was a little boy, he used to love to watch Fess Parker as Daniel Boone. Steve even wore a coonskin cap when the show came on.

Amused, he checked out the guy’s profile.

What’s Your Story?

Fortysomething man who works too hard, plays too little, laughs inappropriately, and wants more out of life than party and play promises. Hi guys, I’m going to be upfront and honest (I know, I know—a shocker in this neck of the woods). I’m not looking for a quick pump and dump or even a night of Netflix and chill (unless we’re actually watching Netflix and chilling on the couch with a nice bottle of something). I hope to find an old-fashioned guy with romance in his heart. Someone not immune to commitment. Someone whose baggage is stored on the top shelf of his closet. Tell me your story and I’ll tell you mine. We can write our own story from there.

STEVE LOOKED AGAINat the profile picture.

The guy was cute. About the same age as Steve. He had no nude pics or even anything suggestive. There was one photo of his face and Steve liked what he saw. There was an openness to his expression, a little mischief in his cockeyed smile. His dark eyes were huge, made even more prominent by the shaved head. Steve knew he was indulging in a bit of projection, but he thought he could see someone who liked to laugh, someone trustworthy, and someone kind.

And there was a comfort in the fact that the guy looked vaguely familiar, even though Steve was certain they’d never crossed paths.

Whoa, there, buddy. This is exactly the kind of thinking that got you into big trouble with Rory when you first saw him. Rather than really seeing him, you turned him into what you wanted and needed then. And then you acted surprised when it all came crashing down around you.

Okay, so this guy was just a nice, friendly face. Handsome. Those things were visible to anyone’s eyes.

The other shot was a full body shot probably taken on one of the Argosy tour boats. He stood on the deck of a smallish craft, heading through the Ballard locks. He wore a blue windbreaker, jeans. The sky behind him was moody, choked with charcoal-colored clouds.

His note said pretty much what his profile pointed out. He told Steve he liked his picture and what he had to say.

It’s so rare to find someone who isn’t looking for a quick hookup these days. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, mind you, but I believe you and I are maybe searching for a more in-depth kind of connection.

Am I right? If so, shoot me a message back and let me know if you might be interested in coffee or even breakfast or lunch.

Steve, disheartened over the sad world of online connection, was suddenly enthused about how this same world had delivered someone to him who at least seemed to be just what he was looking for.

---