It's been a year, and the year isn't even over. Fuck.
The COVID-19 pandemic brought the entire world basically to a halt and for me, it was excruciating. Working as a nurse at a public hospital in this current pandemic is really exhausting. You actively see people suffer from the virus every single day and you worry about your patients contracting the virus, possibly more than catching it yourself. Surgery centers are now transformed into COVID centers since elective surgeries are for the most part cancelled and having to navigate this virus while working in an epicentre gets really stressful. I love my job but hospitals aren't exactly what they used to be and while it's inevitable - given the context of the pandemic - it is daunting. Add your singleness to those worries and it gets tiresome. Fuck,
COVID-19 actually soured my plans. I'd been single for six years. When I found out that my boyfriend of 2 years was cheating on me with a friend of mine, I ended both relationships. I did the work to get over it; I took the time to heal my broken heart and to reconnect with myself. After being single for such a long time, and despite living a pretty full life - a great career, great friends and a sense of stability - I found myself going through lonely periods more often than I care to admit. They were always short-lived but they were still debilitating. One of my new year's resolutions was just to date more, find someone to love and care for and as shallow as it may be, I decided to have sex again. Because not only had I been single, I'd also been celibate. It began as a personal choice; I wanted to commune with myself but after time, you get comfortable. I want to have someone to call at the end of the day, to come home to. Sure, I have my friends and my family who I love with every fibre of my being but it's not the same. There's a different type of emotion that I needed, that I craved. And it was hard finding it.
My friends tried to set me up with other queer men and I tried the apps but I wasn't getting the type of connection that I craved. And maybe that was my fault; maybe I was expecting too much out of the process. At 32 years old, I was skeptical, cynical even, of the apps despite having been on them, and none of my friends' set-ups gave me any time of connection, sexual or otherwise. As the country locked down and we were all encouraged not to gather, I began masturbating more often to relieve my sexual tension. This only caused my sexual appetite to grow. And being a nurse, I know the risks of porn-fueled masturbation sessions but damnit, having to be sequestered indoors because of this damn virus, I was masturbating a lot more.
I'd been on Tik Tok for some time. I wasn't famous by any means, nor did I have intentions of being famous or an influencer; it was just something I used to pass the time. I'd gotten a few follows and likes from people who I didn't know. And that's where I found him.
Alex had followed me sometime in May and I followed back, mostly because I found him adorably cute. We'd interacted on each other's posts, liking and commenting. I worked up the courage to DM him by July after he posted a cute video and we began talking. Pretty soon, we exchanged numbers and began talking on the phone as regular as our lives allowed. He worked a 9 to 5, I didn't. He understood this. People often don't understand the demands of my job, aside from saving lives. Long hours leave us will little to no time for leisure or other activities. Especially now, with the pandemic, doctors, nurses and healthcare professionals were overworked.
The queer community in Trinidad was small; the dating pool was even smaller. Alex was very much different to me and to people I'd dated before. Trinidad was so diverse that our racial differences didn't matter to either of us. I was Afro-Trinidadian, Alex was Indo-Trinidadian. He was three years my junior and worked at a Law firm as an IT technician. I'd listened to him talk about his job extensively with pride. He lived about an hour south of me but Trinidad was really too small to consider much places as "far". As time went on, I found myself becoming more interested in him, romantically.
Our conversations got deeper. I'd let him know about my sexual orientation, as you could never be too sure here how people would react. I breathed a sigh of relief when he told me that he was gay, too. We talked about our past relationships. Alex had been single for a little over a year. He'd finished his MBA and his partner, at the time, went abroad to study. They knew that their relationship wouldn't work long-distance so they ended things.
It was now October. Restrictions had been eased considerably and while beaches, dine-in restaurants and bars were still closed, we were free to move about. I worked up the nerve to ask Alex to go to the park with me. The nurse in me was fearful of this, especially since it would take extra precaution to ensure our safety in a space that's not familiar. But Alex was down to meet up and I was excited. We met and I fell in love at first sight.
Alex looked even better in person. He stood slightly shorter than my 6'1" and was leaner in person. His hair fell in waves, framing his face nicely. His brown skin was unmarked by blemishes, only holding the lightest dusting of freckles and a flat mole under his left eye. We were sure to be safe about our movements, sitting two swings apart on the swing-set, maintaining a 6-foot distance and we both wore masks, only removing them to eat the ice cream we purchased at the nearby ice cream shop. He had the most gorgeous smile, dimples indenting his cheeks. Alex was...gorgeous.
Weeks later, I'd invited him to have dinner at my apartment. We'd already talked about being COVID tested recently and negative so I saw it as no big deal to invite him to my home. Plus, cooking was one of my hobbies and not to toot my own horn but I could throw down in the kitchen. I was happy when he accepted the offer. We'd planned for that coming Saturday, since I had the weekend off. I was nervous. I wasn't planning on doing anything with him besides eating dinner and talking; I was taking this at his pace. Did I want to make him comfortable? Of course. Did I want to pin him to the bed and fuck him into next week? Absolutely. But I would feel so bad if things got bad between us because I really liked him.
I was wrapping up in the kitchen when my phone dinged, signalling a message. Alex texted that he was 5 minutes out. I ran to my bedroom and did one final spritz of cologne, then opened the door to greet him. I watched his car pull up to my front gate and my nerves shot up again. Why was I so nervous? I smiled as he parked in my driveway and got out of the car, walking up to me. He gave me a small wave and I smiled harder. We hugged and I ushered him inside.
"Your home is dope," he said, looking around as he took his shoes off. He placed them on the mat at the end of the doorjamb, a precautionary measure that I'd adopted to help prevent cross-contamination at home.
"Thanks," I said, blushing. My home was modest. I'd made enough at the hospital to comfortably afford the mortgage to purchase this townhouse. Two bedrooms and two full bathrooms upstairs and a half bath on the ground floor with a fairly nice-sized backyard and close to the mall and other amenities. "If you'd like to wash your hands, there's a bathroom down the hall to the right. Walk outside to the back when you're through, I'm gonna set the table."
"Thanks," he said and made his way. I'd set up two place settings on the patio furniture outside for us to eat. One of the benefits of living in the tropics is that the weather was almost usually perfect for outdoor dining. I lit a candle and brought the food from the kitchen. Chicken alfredo with a side salad and garlic bread. Alex came outside as I popped open the bottle of wine. "Oh this looks so good!" he said, eyeing the food. "You made this?"
