The story begins two weeks after I met my current boyfriend on Grindr. We had met a few times and were getting along well.
He's attractive. (I’m even more attractive, duh.)
Lots of chemistry.
And we went to a gay party, ‘H.I.M,’ in Antwerp.
One problem:
I wasn’t looking for anything serious.
I enjoyed our time together but wasn't prepared to give up my freedom for a relationship just yet.
So, in the most awkward way possible, I asked him if he'd be okay with an open relationship.
(Call me commitment-phobic, I don’t care.)
Looking back, I made two big mistakes.
- First, I broke the golden rule in my rejection guide: if you've met more than 3-4 times, any serious conversation should happen face-to-face, not over text.
- Second, I needed clarification about what I wanted. It's a classic case of not knowing what you want and not communicating it effectively.
He initially told me to get lost, and rightfully so, but fortunately, a day or two later, he changed his mind, and we met up to talk.
But the day he rejected me, I felt surprisingly crushed. I had no idea I had such strong feelings for him.
I spent the afternoon in a haze, unable to do anything.
Eventually, I decided to head to the gay street in Brussels, Rue du Marché au Charbon Kolenmarkt (map below), to flirt with guys and distract myself.
I had a simple plan: flirt with some guys and head home.
I strutted up and down the street, scanning for attractive guys. Most of the guys in these areas could be my grandpa.
I chatted with a few, but…meh.
Frustrated, I was heading back up the street to call it a night when I spotted a tall, good-looking guy giving me the eye.
I approached him and said, 'You can't just look at me like that and not say anything!'
His name was Mr. H, a Brazilian guy hanging out with his married gay friend from Argentina. We were making out within five minutes - he was one of those 'full-mouth kissers,’ and everyone was watching.
While Mr. H was a bit shy with all the attention, his Argentinian friend was having a blast watching us.
We chatted some more, and his friend bought us beers. (Side note: I only paid for one beer the whole night, which is a nice change from dating girls.)
From the gay street, we moved to a small gay club nearby. As it was getting late, Mr. H hailed a taxi to take us to his place. But the taxi didn't accept cards, only cash. I suggested we could meet another time, but Mr. H was determined. He hailed another taxi that did take cards, and we hopped in for a long drive to his place, a pleasant residential area on the outskirts of Brussels.
That night we had sex, and Mr H gave me the best blowjob of my life.
Afterward, we showered, munched on some falafel balls, and fell asleep cuddling.
The next morning, he told me I was sleep talking and snoring. (I talk too much while I’m sleeping, too…)
He left to pick up croissants, and we had breakfast.
We started making out again, and he gave me another one of his world-class blowjobs.
It was almost 1 p.m., and it was time to leave. I rented an electric scooter and enjoyed a sunny ride home.
Fast forward to the second Brazilian I met that week, this time a girl.
A month earlier, I was out with my wingman in the city center when I approached her.
We hit it off right away. She was from Brazil but had family in Belgium.
While holding her hand, I complimented her soft hands and pretty nails. She mentioned they were done that day, and I playfully teased her, saying she needed to get her hair done, too!
She laughed, and I got her number before wishing her a good day.
Funny enough, my wingman and I kept approaching and bumped into her again. She was thrilled to see me, but I had momentarily forgotten who she was. So, I pulled a 'just smile and wave, boys, just smile and wave' move from Madagascar.
Just like the approach, texting was off to a great start.
We continued chatting, and I went for the date request. She told me she worked as a waitress every night, so we'd have to meet midday unless it was Monday, her day off.
No problem! We set our first date for noon at Parc du Bruxelles, which I believe was on a Thursday.
Before we dive into the story, if you need more first-date ideas and things to do, I've got you covered.
Check out my comprehensive 12,000-word guide: 'My Top 57 First Date Ideas That Always Work (As A Dating Coach)'.
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It's packed with everything you need to know to make your first dates memorable and successful. Now, let's get back to the story.
Thursday came around, and to my surprise, she confirmed our date before I even had the chance to - always a good sign.
We met up, she ordered water, I got an iced tea, and even though I offered to pay, she insisted on covering it.
Knowing she had to work in a couple of hours, I knew there was no chance of taking her back to my place. So, I focused on engaging first date topics like:
- What kind of girl were you growing up? How have you changed?
- Where were you born? Can you show me on Google Maps?
- What would you do if you won the lottery?
- What is your secret guilty pleasure?
I playfully teased her to keep things flirty and avoid the friend zone. We compared hand sizes, and my hand was at least twice the size of hers. I joked that with a big hand comes a big dick. She laughed.
Not wanting to overstay, I suggested we part ways and meet another day.
We continued texting, but I wasn't sure if things would go as planned.
She ignored me for a day and then claimed her grandmother had passed away. I wasn't sure whether to believe her or not.
We set a second date for the following Monday, which she agreed to. However, when I confirmed the time an hour before our date, she told me she had forgotten entirely. She was busy packing for a trip to Portugal but suggested we could meet when she returned.
‘Arghh!!’
I didn't want to appear reactive, so I responded casually, 'Sure, no worries.'
Turns out, her trip was a two-week-long adventure with a stop in Amsterdam before heading to Portugal.
In a last-ditch effort, I texted, 'Heyyy, you back in Brussels?' She was interested, so I suggested we meet at Flagay, a lovely area with two small lakes and nice bars. Plus, it was close to my place, making it easy to walk back to mine.
She preferred the neighborhood of Saint Gilles, and I was okay with it.
It seemed like a new area to explore, so there was no need to force my idea.
We finally met at Saint Gilles for our second date. She wasn't sure which bar to visit because she liked both. I suggested we could break the rules and visit both. She laughed, and we entered the first bar. I settled on a cocktail, and she got a beer. I told her she had to pay for the first round because she had flaked on me earlier.
We started chatting about life; I didn't want her to feel like I was jumping on her. But quickly, we started talking about sex openly. I told her I was bisexual, and she was intrigued. She told me she had lots of gay male friends and loved going to gay parties.
After a little while, as promised, we made our way to the other bar across the street.
We kept talking, we kissed. She hadn't had sex in over three months. She mentioned that she had to leave soon, so I figured it was now or never.
I suggested we go for a walk and then suggested we go to my place, a twenty-minute walk. She was fine with that.
On our way, I teased her by playfully picking her up and spinning her around as if I were getting ready to throw her into a pile of garbage bags nearby.
Being the nice guy I am, I let her down.
Long story short:
We got to my place, chilled, watched a couple of music videos, had sex, and she left.
That's how I met two Brazilians in one week.
Now, back to my boyfriend.
We met, and I finally explained that I was looking for an open relationship. He agreed, and the rest is history!
If you enjoyed this wild adventure and want to improve your dating life, consider hiring me as your dating coach.
While I'm not the most charismatic guy, I've figured out how to stop being so damn lonely, so I'm confident I can help you too.
Stay adventurous,
Coach Colt
