quarta-feira, 16 de janeiro de 2019

Why NYC guys are always single?



 

In New York city everyone wants to be open. I don't mean the legs open, but that too. It seems like most people don't believe in relationships anymore, or maybe it’s that the world's values have been updated and we downloaded them.

If you walk around Manhattan you will come across aspiring models, sub-celebrities, Wall Street boys, actors, musicians and artists from all over the planet. Everyone’s trying to be something important. Everyone’s looking for some extra attention. There’s too much ego involved and that’s why rejection can freak the boys out.  


A few weeks ago, I was in Hell’s Kitchen hanging out with some friends and one of them was narrating his bad experience on dating apps. He’s not a circuit party boy and doesn't even care about going to the gym. He has other priorities. The fact is that being out of shape affected his self-esteem a little bit, especially because some people can be very stupid if you don’t correspond to their standards.


He was euphoric telling me of his unsuccessful adventures on Grindr (gay dating app). As per him, not even his best picture was working out. He was tired of being mistreated through messages and getting blocked right away. Most of the messages he received were from some addicts looking for favs (a cute word to refer drugs) or someone asking for money: "Generous"?

 #itisnoteasy


One guy he met on the app became his crush. His crush ended up crushing him after he made some nasty comments about his appearance. He tried to rationalize it but he just couldn’t because he felt so small.


There’s a thin line between being naughty and nice. No matter where we are in life people need to be treated with some respect. Today we can be super hot, attractive, have a good life and be surrounded by nice "friends," but tomorrow can be very different. I guess everything comes back around.


So my friend ignored all the karma stuff and decided to take justice into his own hands. He created an incredible fake profile as payback to put the stupid guys in their places. Guys who came from low income families and acted like they were raised in a silver spoon, guys who pretend they are models when in fact are just “renting” their bodies, guys who believe to be influencers when in reality they have nothing to share, but a bunch of XX pics attracting horny people.


His plan worked like this: he posted an incredible picture from some random guy he stole on internet (the face was wow, so handsome, perfect smile, sculptural body and we could figure the hot guy was at the beach, somewhere probably in the Hamptons. Not to mention he was versatile top extra hung. Looks like a fairy tale, right?
And guess what?

He received zillion messages in a few seconds. All types of guys were popping up begging for attention, or at least feedback. He was impressed about the power he got. Suddenly his game had changed and boys were bowing down to him like subjects following each of his demands.

The interesting thing was how super hot guys behave in front of someone who can be possibly more attractive. They become very smooth and chill, carefully choosing their words. Most are shared shirtless of being denied. They were sending all kind of pictures, some of them from angles they could not even see. After many expectations they received a very short and cold response:

__ You are not my type at all, take care dude.

Or:  

__ You look like a Hell’s Kitchen muscle queen. I’m looking for someone more discreet. Good luck!

I was totally in shock when he told me about people’s reaction. The internet unfortunately is a no man’s land. It is a battle between cowards where neither side wins.

Most of the “Hollywood guys” wanted to know why they were being rejected and his answer was the silence followed by: user deleted. That’s a real torture. But let’s face the facts. Create a profile in an app and being judged by a body pic and a brief description is a Russian roulette for the self-esteem, not to mention humiliation.

Attraction involves much more than just that. It is necessary to observe posture, voice, way of speaking, dressing, smell, the touch, chemistry content. If you are on the game, play the game and be prepared for a NO as an answer, period! If someone is not into us, fine. It’s not the end of the world. I mean, it can be a problem if we make this our world.

Every action has a reaction. And of course some of the blocked guys could not move on with their lives until they find out the real reason of being denied. At this point they needed to know who was the grindr’s villain. How? Creating new fake profiles and wasting their energy with insignificant chats. It is interesting how New York city guys need to be desired all the time. They cannot accept the simple fact that they may not be someone’s preference. On the other hand they act like assholes when someone does not fulfill their aspirations. They assume that the world revolves around them and do not hesitate to hurt someone who is not part of their groups.

So let’s go back to our guy. The most embarrassing situation was with this ultra masculine guy he knows from real life. A very particular person who act as a bad boy and always make fun of others for any reason. His profile on Grindr was entitled like “straight looking for same… no fags, no feminines please” and he ended up sending pictures of himself wearing Victoria Secrets lingerie and a whip. After all those facts I was asking myself: why the handsome, successful New York guy is always single?

My friend concluded that most of the guys are living their lives with masks lying to themselves and hiding who they really are because they are scared of rejection. Being different is not really easy…

...According to him all the tops are versatile, the versatile are bottom and the real tops are not available since they are always busy “eating someone”. Well, hard to believe but makes sense. The richest are the poorest, the puritans are the biggest whores and those who acts like untouchable celebrities with poker faces are always available in the bathrooms of the nightclubs. Far from me to judge someone, it is all testosterone’s fault. The big question is: what happens when people discover who we really are?

Analyzing the facts, the NYC guy is single by option, by the illusion that will be always someone better next door (no one is enough). This endless search creates an emotional emptiness, built illusions, destroyed feelings that only a therapist can help mend. They are being controlled by their vanity and need to feed the monster they have built obsessively, trying to hide frustrations and rejections on steroids, Instagram likes and drugs. It is a storm in the soul and we are all in the same boat. Love doesn’t happen for everyone but we should try to understand our emotions, our missions in this life and respect people no matter what – on Grindr, at Times Square, or any square meter in Manhattan.

Bruno de Abreu Rangel
brunorangelbrazil@hotmail.com

terça-feira, 8 de janeiro de 2019

El último beso





 - Cariño, ¿dónde estás? Me voy a trabajar, quiero mi beso. Alejandro anunció a la puerta de la sala de estar ya entreabierta.

- ¿Ahora?  Tengo yogurt por toda la boca y ya llegas tarde a una reunión importante hoy. No puedes perder tu vuelo.  Gritó Diego desde la mesa de la cocina, entretenido por las noticias de la mañana.

- Vale. ¡Hasta luego!

- Yo te quiero. Oh, ¿tienes tus llaves?

La puerta estaba cerrada a mitad de la frase. Y sí, Alejandro no toma las llaves y Diego no aprovecha la oportunidad de un beso.

********************

En algún momento estamos tan ocupados, que empezamos a olvidar nombres, cumpleaños, a posponer ese viaje romántico a las montañas o a visitar a la abuela que ya está fuera de tiempo en este mundo; estamos dejando para más tarde esa limpieza mayor en nuestro armario, la de deshacernos de las piezas que nunca usamos; la llamada a mamá, que ha estado esperando por siempre sólo para escuchar el sonido de nuestra voz.  Y cuando finalmente conseguimos una pausa en el horario, nos distraemos con las noticias de la mañana y el yogur.

Si no recuerdo mal, en mi infancia había un cajón con ropa para pasear exclusivamente por el parque los fines de semana.  Fue casi un crimen usar un traje de domingo el lunes y el castigo fue muy fuerte: dos días sin ver tu caricatura favorita.  Estos eran nuestros padres que nos entrenaban para pensar que mañana es más importante que ahora. Luego, con las espinillas vinieron las lujosas y costosas colonias que sólo se usaban en ocasiones importantes, y cuando la barba me llenó toda la cara vino ese gran discurso para comprar tu propia casa (ahorra cada centavo sólo para tener un lugar donde te puedas caer muerto).

La mayoría de las veces las cosas no salen como esperamos, y podríamos ser mucho más felices de lo que somos si nos desprendemos de estas fórmulas probadas y aprobadas por el departamento de personas que nacieron con todo.  Siempre habrá una excusa poco convincente para vivir mañana: soñar con un nuevo proyecto increíble, perder cinco libras la próxima semana, comenzar otro MBA, comprar una segunda casa, hacer otra gira alrededor del mundo, abrir otra compañía.  ¿Qué hacemos con nuestras vidas mientras la muerte no llega?

********************

Ese día, Diego esquivó un simple beso con la excusa de que Alejandro llegaría más tarde en el trabajo, que su boca estaba sucia (como si tuviera que mover el mundo para usar una servilleta) porque la noticia escupía una revelación pomposa y no podía perderse nada, porque tenía la ilusoria certeza de que más tarde su marido volvería con una espléndida novedad: el encuentro de la obra habría sido un éxito.  El tan esperado apartamento en Madrid finalmente despegaría. Eso abriría Cabernet Sauvignon comprado en un viaje a Francia y que ya estaba regalando arañas de la red. Y luego, hacer el amor hasta el atardecer.

Ese día nunca llegó.

La botella de vino nunca se abrió.

Y el apartamento del Madrid se convirtió en polvo cuando su esposo recibió una llamada para reconocer el cuerpo. Al otro lado del teléfono, una voz, casi mecánica, de una persona acostumbrada a dar las noticias cada quince minutos. Y en este lado de la escucha, un arrepentimiento que nos destroza y nos transforma en pedazos.

'Cariño, ¿dónde estás? Me voy a trabajar, quiero mi beso. '

Un arrepentimiento tan malo. La culpa de no haber tocado sus labios, ensució la maldita camisa del domingo. La pregunta interna que pudo haber hecho ese pequeño gesto de amor habría evitado el accidente. O no, ¿quién sabe?

'Ahora tengo la boca llena de yogur y tú tienes esa reunión importante hoy, ¿recuerdas? No puedes perder tu vuelo. '

Desde que el "te quiero" se convirtió en el nuevo "buenos días", hemos estado poniendo los sentimientos en modo avión.  Es la falta de conexión, la verdad, más deseo de estar juntos, más ganas de estar juntos, camas deshechas, más obscenidades susurradas en los oídos, fines de semana con palomitas de maíz tiradas en la alfombra de la sala de estar... porque nunca sabemos cuándo será el último día, el último beso, el último "Bebé, estoy llegando a casa".

'- Yo te quiero. Oh, ¿tienes tus llaves?'

Necesitamos tener más creatividad para amar en un apartamento de estudio sin sufrir esa patética tortura por la necesidad de vivir en un ático.  Entienda que no importa si alimentamos, vestimos y damos lo mejor a nuestros hijos, lo que cuenta al final es ponerlos en nuestro regazo y decirles cuánto los amamos - este es el verdadero alimento para el alma y ciertamente no hay necesidad de una prescripción antidepresiva en el futuro.

Pero Diego se despertó a tiempo. Corrió, gritando sus pulmones, y alcanzó la felicidad en el ascensor:

- Cariño, aquí está tu llave, te quiero mucho. Me haces el hombre más feliz del mundo, ¿lo sabías?  Si la reunión no va como se esperaba, está bien, estaremos bien. Siempre estaré esperando a que vuelvas porque tu sonrisa es mi oxígeno.

Alejandro sonrió con sus ojos, incapaz de expresar tal alegría. Él tocó su boca limpiando el yogurt de su cara y se despidió con un beso de esas películas de Hollywood.

Bruno De Abreu Rangel
brunorangelbrazil@hotmail.com