A guy I met on Grindr — Story

I got off the bus and had a look at the urban town I had just set foot in for the first time. I stood at an intersection point where a wide main road met three other secondary roads. One of them was even wider than the main road itself, and stretched as far as I could see, and I was sure I could also make out some tall trees at the far end. Looking down another road, I could make out an ancient fortified wall far away, half of it covered by more trees and greenery. Being the history buff that I am, I made a mental note to ask the guy I was meeting to share some information with me about it, like when it was built and what purpose it had served. Where was he anyway?

I checked for a second time. Yes, this was the location he had indicated for me on the map on Grindr, so I messaged him to let him know I was here. “You’re in front of the fabrics shop, right?” he asked in a text, so I replied that that wasn’t the case, while I felt a hint of panic as I wondered if I was in the wrong spot. He asked me to describe what I was seeing around me so that he could find me, and I used this moment to take in my immediate surroundings. All buildings were clearly quite modern, and no higher than three floors, I guessed. Along the main road, there were all sorts of shops and various apartments. I could make out stationeries, an electronics store, and grocers.

The widest street, on the other hand, had far more fine-looking houses on either street, instead of apartments, and a great deal of them even had a front garden. The street which led to the fortified wall boasted more houses, a “pastizzi” shop, and a pet shop. Right behind me was a tall white building and I quickly noted the “HSBC” logo, and right next to it another tall building; a supermarket, its front adorned with decorative, patterned glass windows. I texted the guy the name of the supermarket and mentioned the bank, and he instructed me to stay there and wait for a few minutes.

I decided, however, to cross the road towards the widest street, because I had taken a particular liking to it. On my right was a parking area, and a truck selling vegetables. The streets were particularly busy, there was a steady flow of traffic and cars were parked on either side of the streets. In a few minutes, I saw the guy I was meeting on the other side of the road, and as soon as he noticed me, our eyes met and he nodded at me, then he looked at both sides of the street and crossed to meet me. As he walked I took my time to take him all in as I scanned him from top to toe.

Just as his Grindr stats had promised, he was just a tad shorter than me. His hair was jet black, about medium-length, and the sides were cropped short. His hair was extremely fine and bushy, and he had a neatly trimmed, and equally dark, full beard, a combination I am quite fond of. He quite reminded me of those handsome Southern Italy-type guys from television.

The weather was not to my liking on that day, it was particularly windy, and at that moment, the winds blew even more furiously, as they enviously attempted to mess up his hair, which had previously been lying gently on his head. The hair tossed and turned and flew around his face, but the winds had been unsuccessful in their endeavors, as it still looked amazing, if not even more so, the harder they tried to sabotage it. His expression was cool but determined, his thick brows were the familiar shade of black, and his eyes were big, and brown. His gaze was friendly and welcoming.

He was quite tall, and he wore a pair of dark jeans, brown shoes, and a grey hooded jacket. The jacket hugged his shoulders tightly, but I did not greatly appreciate it because it was not revealing enough for my tastes, and I found myself craving to see the body that was underneath it. The closer he got, the more I found to admire. He had a roman nose and his smooth skin was as close to flawless as it could be, or at least, that is how it appeared to me, as illuminated by the setting 7 p.m. sun.

We exchanged polite greetings for a few moments, and I asked him what was fun to do there. “I know you like history and culture, so I was thinking I could show you the church. Is there anything you’re in the mood for? Coffee? Or something to eat? We have pizza, Chinese, sushi, subway…” I told him I would be happy to see the church and also the fortified walls I had noticed earlier, and that a pizza afterwards would be great.

I followed him along the main road, and we walked past a bank until we reached a large, wide, open gate and behind it stood a huge, white structure with a strange, triangular front, and a holy statue was fixed at the top. He explained, as he turned to look directly in my eye and pull me, that that particular church was known for its unique shape based on that of a triangular prism, and that it had only been built about eighty years earlier. Its front was decorated in differently-coloured stained glass along the sides, and he asked me if I wanted to go inside as we reached the big brown doors.

“I’m kind of afraid that I’m going to catch fire as soon as I step inside” I said. His mouth curved into a grin, as he led the way. Inside, Mass was taking place. I had not been inside a church in years, but this church was quite unlike all the other churches I had ever seen. The walls were painted white, and there were dozens and dozens of rows of chairs, instead of the usual benches. Statues decorated every corner of the church, and I could see that the stained glass pattern that I had noticed earlier was not just at the front, but on all sides of the church. They allowed light in, and it landed on the church floor in different shades and colours.

We then walked out and I followed him into a wide side street with houses on both sides. Even here, the houses looked quite modern and most had balconies and a small front garden. We walked past a hairdressing shop, and we allowed it to steer our conversation towards a different subject. I came to know I was not the only one into his hair, as he told me how many hairdressers he had had to go through before we could find one that would cut his hair specifically the way he liked it. He told me he was considering shaving it off, or going for a much shorter haircut, when it was summer, and he laughed as he told me what a crazy fit his mother had thrown when he had shaved his hair off, several years earlier. I’m with your mother on this one, I thought, but chose to keep my opinion to myself. At the end of the street were countless tall trees in a small, downward-sloping park, and the tall, old fortified walls, brown and black with age, appeared behind. He took my hand and led me through the uneven park, as he recounted some history in brief pertaining to the structure, and told me its name, in case I wanted to do some further research about it when I was back at home.

Within minutes, we were walking along the wide street I had really liked before. Some old people were sitting in their front lawns with their dogs, a few of which greeted us as we walked, and I noticed really beautiful cats sitting lazily on a few windows, catching what was left of the afternoon sun. We walked past a small white shop, its front display showing different teas, pasta, jams, chocolate bars, and syrups in glass jars, and the guy told me that this was a very recently opened 100% vegan and organic grocery store.

We reached our destination; there was an outlet on the left side, presumably where people ordered their food and paid, and on the right side was a glass door leading inside, while out front were a few tables and chairs. Inside the ceiling was high and there were a few more tables and a bar at the back, and behind it were shelves with a selection of alcoholic drinks. The restaurant was named “Las Vegas”, even though nothing about it reminded me of the city which inspired its name. I ordered a Calzone and two tonic waters and we opted to sit outside.

We started talking, I told him briefly about Cannes (my permanent residence at the time), French people, and my recent breakup. He spoke about his passion for cooking, his decision to leave his job, and gave me some tips about fun things to do during my stay. At one point, as I was speaking and gesticulating with my hands, he interrupted me and patted my fingers as he remarked how large my hands were. We held the palms of our hand against the other’s, and laughed as we noticed they were the same size. Next, we compared shoe sizes, he was a 43, and before I knew it the words were out of my mouth. “So you have big hands, big feet… Are you big in your pants too?” I said as I gestured downwards. He blushed and made no attempt to hide his discomfort as he fidgeted a little, but a cheeky, amused grin appeared briefly on his lips.

He gently changed the subject, and we carried on speaking about other stuff, but I had not given up yet. “What are you going to show me next?” I inquired when I had finished my pizza. “That park over there? Your bedroom?” I casually added. His face turned into a shocked expression briefly before the familiar grin, wider this time, reappeared. I noticed some vibrations in my phone and so I checked to see what was going on. I skimmed through the text, considered, then read it again.

I politely explained to him thoroughly about this guy who works with us and was demanding I return to the yacht, making sure to inform him how he had already gotten another person fired, to accentuate the gravity of the situation, and told him that I would have to leave immediately. He seemed understanding and he walked with me to the bus station, which was located on the main street in front of a fabrics, bedrooms, and fancy pillows shop, the shop in front of which we were originally meant to meet.

I took the opportunity to hug him like I meant it, and let him know that I would be texting him soon, then I got on the bus, hoping that next time I would not be interrupted.

“Kindly note that this story is NOT auto-biographical, although the location IS real”