Archive for June, 2020

Double A moved into his in-town condo two weeks ago. His house in the far northeast suburbs went on the market on Friday and was under contract by Saturday afternoon. He had two full-price offers to choose from. He chose the buyers offering cash and 30-day close.

About a year ago, a developer started construction on a new spec home in my neighborhood after buying a 1950’s ranch and scraping it off. The new 6,000 sq. ft. house with 5 bedrooms and 6 baths was to be priced at $2.5m. Halfway during construction the price was raised to $2.8m. Last week the house hit the market at $3.2m. It was under contract in five days. The buyers are a young couple moving to Denver from Summit County.

Did someone say the economy is in trouble?

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I hit the gym yesterday. I had an appointment for a 3:30 p.m. workout. The gym was sparsely populated. There was sufficient space to socially distance. The members were following the new rules which stipulate wiping down the equipment after use with disinfectant provided by the gym. Everyone, that is, except two sixty-something fucks. Going from machine to machine, not wearing masks and not wiping down the machines after use. Both were overweight and did not appear to be in the best of health. They looked like the target market for a Covid infection, yet neither took any precautions. I avoided them as I pushed through my work out. I managed to finish my work out in less than the allotted hour. Starting today, workout appointments are extended to 90 minutes which means an hour workout plus 30 minutes of cardio.

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The Architect

I’ve been spending time with Bart, the architect. I find him devastatingly handsome, yet he doesn’t know how handsome he is. He’s one of those guys with a razor sharp chin line with a square jaw. He could cut paper with it. He’s also one those guys who has a 5 o’clock shadow at the end of the day, but oddly has very little body hair. He’s like Clark Kent but shorter and leaner with a taste for fetishes. He’s extremely shy and socially awkward at times. He’s attracted to guys who are young, hairless and skinny. The type of guy who’s 21 but looks 16. That is definitely not me. It will never be nothing more than a friendship.

Bart asked me to take him clothes shopping because the stores never have his size, yet he didn’t know what size he should wear. How does a man get to 60 and not know how to buy clothes? He knows I’m a bit of a clothes whore so I was his go to person. Bart is 5’8” and weighs around 140. At the time, the store options were limited as most stores were still closed and Bart tends to be frugal. Our first stop, Banana Republic, was deserted. Bart didn’t know how to work with a sales person so I stepped in. Bart couldn’t find anything he liked. I picked out two shirts in what I thought was his size. I gave the salesperson the shirts and asked her to start a room. Bart was unsure about my choices but I made him try them on. Bart liked both after trying them on. He bought both shirts. Success! The next stop was the Gap for jeans. After teaching jeans 101, he tried on three pairs and bought all three thanks to a great sale. He vetoed shopping online at Nordstrom or Neiman’s as he didn’t want to be bougie.

Bart has asked me to join him on walks in the evening after work. It’s an enjoyable time until he starts talking about conspiracy theories. He believes COVID-19 was engineered by the United States military. He thinks aliens are being kept at Area 51. He also believes the worlds billionaires are creating a new city on a private island where they will move so they can declare independence from all governments. Only rich people will be allowed on the island. I pointed out that the least wealthy of the billionaires would be the new poor on this island. He had no answer when I asked who was going to clean their houses and cook their meals. I doubt the wives of the richest men would run a vacuum around a mansion.

Bart will accompany me to the art museum this afternoon to see the Winslow Homer/Frederic Remington exhibit. I’ve known Bart for two years but I never knew he had any interests in art. His shyness prevents him from opening up to people. For at least a year, I thought he disliked me. Recently, he told me my confidence and social skills intimidated him. I was taken aback. I never thought my self-confidence and social skills could be intimidating.

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Back to the Gym

My gym reopened yesterday. It’s one of the few 24 Hour Fitness locations to reopen. It opens at 5 a.m. and closes at 9 p.m. Appointments are required to work out. Each appointment is limited to 1 hour. The gym closes for 30 minutes after each appointment to allow for cleaning before the next group works out. Masks are optional. Overall, it was an enjoyable experience because the gym was not packed as in pre-Covid days. Attendance is limited to avoid overcrowding. I wore a mask while working out but many of members did not. The gym has never been cleaner. It’s a shame it took a pandemic to get 24 Hour to actually clean the gym.

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Two Sons?

As if this day was not going to be interesting enough, Bruce, Mr. 28, texted. He misses me. He wants to get together again after he presents his final business plan to the investors. I thought one son was enough. I feel like I got off the roller coaster and got on the scrambler.

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Defining Aggressive

WM, the wealth manager, is taking me to dinner tonight for Daddy’s Day. He also has a gift for me. I question if it’s too soon for gifts. I’m hoping it’s something insignificant. I’ll find out in a few hours.

WM is aggressive. He told me he goes all in. He goes for what he wants. He told me he had to be aggressive to build a company that now employs 50 people. My online profile says I’m looking for fun and adventure. WM brings both to the table. Along with aggression. He is the epitome of aggressive. I feel like I’m sitting in the front seat of a roller coaster inching its way up the first incline. I know the ride is going to be fast and furious with lots of twists and turns. Will I get back in line when the ride is over?

In other news, I had a walking date with the guy I am interested in, but he doesn’t feel the same way. On our walk last night he told that he really enjoys my company. He would like to have more than a friendship but he has ED. He doesn’t want to take any of the ED medications. Any type of sexual relationship would be one sided. I didn’t ask why he was opposed to ED meds because it was a very tender moment. He bared his soul to me. I didn’t want to be intrusive. It’s a conversation we can have at a later time. I had a great time on our walk and our post-walk dinner, which he paid for. He wants to get together again as friends. I’m good with that. He’s a man with a many great qualities. Who wouldn’t want a friend like that? Besides, I have my hands full with WM.

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He Cleaned

The wealth manager texted pictures this morning showing his bedroom had been cleaned with the bed made. The nightstands were decluttered and there was nothing on the floor. He also sent pictures showing the rest of house had been cleaned. I hope he keeps it clean as I don’t have time to see him this weekend.

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I came across an interesting profile online. After some banter back and forth over several days, I realized I had met this man before (read here and here). We had a lunch in 2015 but he dropped me because I didn’t text him for three days. Five years later, he has a new haircut due to less hair and has put on some weight, which he wears well. The weight gain is puzzling as he is an avid runner and cyclist. I’m guessing he has a poor diet.

We had our second date yesterday, five years after the first date. We went to the Denver Botanic Gardens and then had dinner at Kona Grill. I had a great time. Somethings hadn’t changed, others had. He’s still a great conversationalist and a successful wealth manager. He runs with the affluent professional gays and is friends with the beer heir and his husband who live a few streets away from me in a palatial house. He lives in the same Congress Park bungalow which is charming on the outside but still looks like a frat house on the inside. His bedroom was a mess. It looked like the closet exploded into the room. Dirty clothes covered the floor, the bed was unmade and the nightstands were cluttered. It’s not how I expected a 44-year-old to live. He traded up to a Tesla Model S from a Ford Focus. He’s still a Christian and recently got a tattoo on his upper bicep depicting Christ nailed to the cross. And now he wants a Daddy. He’s asked me out for a third date. I summoned my inner Daddy. I told him to clean his bedroom and make sure the bed was made with clean sheets if he expected me to spend any time in there. He simply said, “Yes, Sir”. I said nothing else. I walked out of his house and, got in my car and drove home.

An hour later I received a text thanking me a nice evening.

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Saturday and Sunday

I had two walking dates this weekend. One on Saturday afternoon and the other on Sunday afternoon. The Saturday date went well. We walked for four miles along the South Platte River. After the walk, we had dinner at a restaurant near Confluence Park. It was my first time eating in a restaurant since Covid-19 arrived. My date was two years older than me, and thankfully, HWP like his profile stated. I had a great time on the date. The conversation flowed effortlessly. We are both self-made with similar childhoods including Catholic educations. The Sunday date didn’t go so well. The guy was at least five years older but looked a lot older than his photos. He was out of shape and didn’t want to walk very far. We ended up having a conversation while sitting on a park bench. Why agree to a walking date if you can’t walk very far? While I found him interesting there was no spark. He put no effort into his appearance and probably hasn’t worked out in years. And then there was the nose hair. There was no way I could see myself getting physical with Mr. Saturday.

I was interested in pursuing Mr. Saturday but he has moved me into the friend zone. We have tentative plans for a second walk. Mr. Sunday is interested in seeing me but I moved him into the friend zone, which he didn’t take very well. It’s odd how things worked out.

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