Dating a College Jock ...when you are 42

A few weeks after I had returned home to the U.S, I saw a new facebook request.

The name looked slightly familiar - as did the picture, but I couldn't quite place it. When I looked more in depth at the profile, it suddenly clicked, it was Pablo.

I accepted and he sent me a message on fb. He explained he had dropped his phone in a pool and had lost all of his contacts, but had wanted to write me and say hello. I was flattered and a little surprised at his effort. While I had a great time with him, I didn't think we'd actually talk or see each other again, but from that point on we started speaking relatively frequently.

About a month later - he again surprised me by asking me directly if I would come back to Bogota. I gave my usual polite generic non-committal replies that were usually met with usual polite generic acceptances - but Pablo wasn't having that.

I was at first taken aback, and then charmed at his presumption. He began to ask when specifically I would come back and that he wanted to put the plan down since he would need to take time off of work and school. We decided I would come back down in July and he paid for half my ticket.

I arrived on a Wednesday night at a standard hotel in Chapinero and he arrived a few hours later. We hugged and said hello and had dinner.

During dinner, I was again taken aback at the directness of his candor. He expressed himself and wanted to make his wishes clear. He knew we weren't "serious", but he expressed he was a little traditional - as well as jealous and possessive. He knew I would receive attention but made his position clear. When he was at work or school, he expected that I would do anything I wanted - but when we were together, he wanted it to be just him. He clarified that he had taken 2 nights off work for this visit and wanted to spend time with me. He indicated he would do the same, and even mentioned that he had been lightly dating someone but had told the gentleman that he would be unavailable for the remainder of the week. His one and only request to me was to not invite guys into the hotel room - since he would be staying there for the week, but if I went somewhere else, he was fine with it. He acknowledged he wouldn't know one way or another - but said it made him feel more comfortable.

He asked how I felt and if those terms were agreeable. I found myself charmed and pleased at his very calm and direct approach. The way he phrased it and how he communicated his desires clearly. We negotiated things a little, and laughingly shook hands and went upstairs to demonstrate just how much we missed the other, and several hours later with us both exhausted and wrapped up in each other's limbs. We fell asleep.

The hotel we stayed in had a large stylish indoor pool and after his classes, Pablo came back and we spent hours lounging in the pool and big comfortable chairs. As is custom with Latin Americans, Pablo mostly used speedos and it was quite impossible to not openly stare at him as he lounged on the pool chairs or swam briefly. I could tell my staring did not bother him.

I found myself not that interested in looking for other guys and was more or less content to entertain myself during the day with books, walks, museums or leisure and would eagerly await Pablo's arrival.

On Friday he surprised me by telling me he decided to not go to his classes and instead took me on a surprise trip to Monserrate - the tiny mountain village above Bogota that offers jaw-dropping views and is only available by a 10 minute nail-biting trip on a cable car.

It was in that tiny village he bought me my first gift. A tiny refrigerator magnet of Monserrate. His method was charming - telling me to keep walking as he stopped to quickly talk with a vendor and then running up and presenting me with the gift with a wide smile, telling me how amazing the week was and how happy he was that I was back and that he hoped I would look at the magnet and be reminded of him. I smiled, speechless.

He looked around briefly and leaned forward, giving me a quick peck on the cheek and holding my hand for a few seconds and then announced he was hungry. On our walk to the restaurant, I took a chance and held his hand. He looked at me in quick surprise and then smiled and let it stay.

Later that night while lounging in the pool - he suddenly asked me a question that caught me off guard: "Do you like to party?"

This question and phrase has several levels of insinuation based on region and who you are with. I learned that Colombia had many levels of gatherings but that "party" meant something specific - unlike English in which "party" can mean anything from your cousins graduation party on a lawn, a dinner party with your straight friends who work in banking, or an all night dancing rave at a warehouse - in Colombia- "party" meant more along the lines of the gay stereotype. A nightclub, electronic house music, topless guys gyrating together and drugs.

I explained - as best I could - that while I was open to new experiences, the "party scene" wasn't really appealing to me. It was shallow. I was too old for it. I didn't understand the appeal of it. The music sounded a bit like noise to me. I painted the picture of being past my prime and that I wouldn't be fun or enjoy it and I certainly wouldn't be welcome there.

The more I talked, the more I could see my answer was disappointing him and I found myself strangely looking for his approval. I liked what he said when I finished talking - he was disappointed because I had talked myself out of it, rather than just trying a new experience - and that he would understand if I tried it and didn't like it versus just shutting myself out.

The more he talked, the more I realized he was right and a part of me was finding myself yearning for this. I had always felt "left out" of gay life because I didn't fit the mold and didn't even know how to enter it - but here was a guide - and really - what harm could it do? I thought I had missed any chance of what the "standard gay life was"- but here is was, a golden opportunity dropped right in front of me.

We went back upstairs and I showered and got dressed. I found myself growing excited. This was going to be a brand new element in my life and at 11pm I was finally ready...and he was asleep. When I woke him up, he explained that it was FAR too early to go out and completely enthralled with the new information I was receiving, he explained that Bogota is a huge party city that has "rolling times" - meaning there is a group and "scene" from 9-1am, another from 2am-6am, and a final that goes from 4am-10am. I was shocked. The latest I had ever stayed out in my life was 2am at a friend's going away party in San Francisco - and even 2am was late since last call was 1am. He said we would leave around 1.

An hour later, he asked me another question, and he had to ask it three more times in different ways before exasperatedly being direct: "Did I do drugs?"

I was taken aback.

Sure, in my trips to South America I had been contacted by a random dealer here or there as I walked down the streets or was offered from a taxi driver- I always shook my head no and smiled. I knew nothing about drugs except for the basics - I knew you snorted cocaine and it made you feel energetic and that everyone smoked pot to relax. I knew a lot of gay guys like crystal meth - but it was very dangerous and addicting. I had never had any real desire to try anything. At 40 and going this long without alcohol and drugs, all I could see was it ruining peoples lives- I had yet to hear a story about how drugs made someone's life great. Wasn't it just an expensive and unnecessary risk?

Pablo explained that the "party" scene in Bogota and Colombia was very liberal and that drugs were a usual part of the nightlife. He expressed that he had a desire to do some things - but wanted to make sure I was comfortable with it. He explained that he would prefer if I tried things with him as it made the "ride" much better together, but that more than anything he would respect my wishes and didn't want me to feel uncomfortable.

After pushing through my initial discomfort in the topic - I found myself intrigued by the conversation. I had never actually spoken to someone this candidly and ...well..almost clinically about drugs. As though he was explaining ingredients in recipes. I found myself rather impressed - in my head I imagined people that used drugs were just rampant addicts that couldn't control themselves and were just chasing highs with no real concern for their medical well being.

Instead - Pablo was very cautious and knowledgable and explained a number of drugs, what they did, how long they lasted, their level of danger, level of addiction and his personal experiences with them. When I asked him if he could have his "ideal" for the night- what would it be? He thought for a second and said: "I want us to take ecstasy together"

As he described each of the drug choices and what they did- I found myself the most curious about ecstasy - he said several times that words couldn't describe the feeling - it was just something I needed to experience for myself, but that the "high" was very pleasant, somewhat brief and non psychedelic. I told him I would think about it, but I wasn't committed either way. He was agreeable to it.

An hour later we got into a taxi and at almost 2am we arrived in front of El Teatron. I was not aware of the legendary iconic status of this club. It was formerly the famous Metro Riviera Cinema and was converted into the largest gay dance club in South America (I believe if not the world, but I could be mistaken) with 5 or 6 floors, 14 different dance halls, restaurants, food trucks, patios, full stores and bars all inside the club itself.

I was like a kid in the candy shop tourist. El Teatron is a huge monolith with gorgeous rooms and very polished architecture - not to mention the endless parade of very attractive men. Pablo took my response with good humor, lightly teasing me as I stopped every few seconds to gape and take in my surroundings.

We both had a beer and danced a little together, but Pablo seemed to want some distance when I would become affectionate or try to dance too closely with him and he would later tell me that he had a lot of friends and acquaintances there but preferred to keep his private life private- and his friends were notoriously gossipy.

At 3am - he left me on one of the dance floors and told me he was going to the bathroom. Several guys came up to talk to me in his absence and I found myself feeling a sense of living and excitement that I hadn't felt in a long time.

Pablo returned a few minutes later and led me to a small alcove. He looked around and told me to open my mouth. I did so and before I could say or ask anything I saw him break a small pink pill in half and he firmly placed half on my tongue.

I looked at him for a moment, as though standing on the precipice of two different realities and we simply held the other ones gaze - I made the decision and I chose to embrace it. The pill went down with a bitter taste and I found myself in a strange feeling of excitement. I had never done this before. I had never done anything like this before. I was going to experience something very new. Something daring and illegal, almost 4000 miles from home.

10 minutes later, we went to a different dance room. I was constantly lost in the large labyrinthine mazes of the club. I found myself experiencing a sensation I have never experienced before. I was losing control. I never understood how strictly I managed myself. Not drinking or doing drugs my entire life had left me with a very strong sense of control and of self- even in heartache, grief, happiness or joy - I had a sense of merely "witnessing" the emotions without "losing myself" in them. But being in this environment at almost 4am, overwhelmed with the sounds, the sights, the lights, the music and of my handsome companion - I started to feel like I wasn't myself anymore. I was now energy in this place.

A few moments after that - Pablo leaned forward and asked me if I was okay. I said I was. Other than the feeling of a little loss of control and general happiness, nothing seemed to be happening and I believed my positive sensations were a result of the thrill and buzz of the beer.

We moved to another dance room and I found myself dancing with another guy - a smiling topless local. Pablo was right next to me as well , but seemed to be okay with it.

Literally, from one second to another. It hit.

Everything moved to slow motion and I felt wave after wave of pure ...well...ecstasy.

I looked at Pablo and couldn't believe someone who was so wonderful and beautiful could exist. All of a sudden the music, which up to then had just been "electronic noise" sounded like the most incredible thing on Earth. All of these strangers that were in this club with me - were no longer strangers- we were all just sharing this incredible experience together.

I couldn't stop smiling. I put my hands around the topless smiling stranger - basking in the thrill of pure touch, He smiled back at me but whispered in my ear: "Tranquilo Gringo- no pongas celoso a tu amigo"" (Easy- don't make your friend jealous) and I looked over at Pablo who shrugged but I could see his eyes were hard.

I tried to explain to him I was sorry - I wanted him to know how beautiful and perfect he was and everything was beautiful and perfect and wonderful and he smiled patiently and took my hand and led me into another room with a different type of music, and finally I saw his guard give away completely and he put his arms around me and we danced. We kissed. I couldn't stop being in awe of how wonderful and beautiful life was and Pablo asked if I wanted to take another half. I readily agreed and he broke another pill and we both dry swallowed the bitter taste and resumed dancing.

About 10 minutes later Pablo told me he needed to use the bathroom. He told me to wait where I was and that he would be right back.

Unfortunately - I became overwhelmed. I still felt the waves of happiness, but started to feel a strange and rising sense of panic - all tied to losing all of my control. I found myself feeling faint and sat down outside on one of the benches. It felt too much and I broke out in a panicked sweat. I needed to get out. I felt claustrophobic and dizzy. Without another thought - I stood up, and rushed to the stairs, almost racing in my need to get out and get some air. I stepped outside into the mild evening and started to feel better. A taxi honked and I got in - I was sure he knew I was freaking out and coming apart at the seams - but I just calmly gave him the name of the hotel and sat in wonder and silence at the strange sensations I was feeling as he slowly drove through Bogota.

The taxi pulled up to the hotel at almost 5am. I went up to the room, took a shower and then stood on the balcony, watching the sunrise over Bogota - lost in a a reverie I didn't think possible. I thought of my ex boyfriend - and finally forgave him for everything, actually finding myself happy for him that he had fallen in love with someone else I made a mental note to send him an email when I got back home telling him how happy I was for him. I took a hard look at myself and my flaws, but for the first time in my life reacted with love and care. I wondered about the loss of control and why I always felt I needed it and how panicked I became when I lost it. I had an experience that was almost religious. I teared up a few times as I sat on the balcony and had an experience that felt like the ending of one life, and the beginning of another.

At almost 6am, I went back into the room - and I lay down on the bed.

And then I remembered Pablo.

I quickly looked for my phone and found it on the desk in the living room. It had been on low battery the last time I looked at it, before the second half of the pill. It was dead. I plugged it in and the moment the apple logo came on - my phone started ringing. It was Pablo- but I couldn't hear him, he was still at the club. I held a hand up to my mouth in a mixture of horror and comedy. How was it possible that I had completely forgotten Pablo?? He angrily said "ESCRIBIME!" (WRITE!)

I opened my WhatsApp and cringed when I saw nearly 100 messages. He had been looking for me for hours. He had asked the security of El Teatron for help, thinking I had overdosed in a bathroom or was lured outside and potentially robbed or murdered. He was beside himself with worry and had been talking to police in front of the club. I laughingly apologized and said I was at the hotel - I laughed a little and immediately regretted it. He told me to have a good night and hung up.

I went to sleep at 7 and at 11am I woke up when Pablo entered the room. He was furious and refused to speak to me and just went to sleep on the couch. Finally in the late afternoon, I went over to the couch, picked him up and carried him to the bed. He looked at me as though he was going to protest , but instead nestled his head into my shoulder.

As I lay in the bed with him, I curled up against him and gently traced his back, ass and legs with my finger. I apologized to him and he rolled over and said: "What hurt the most -- was that you just left me there. If you wanted to leave, we could leave, I want to make sure you were having a good time - but you just left. You abandoned me like I was nothing and I was so scared....I was so so scared...never do that again - just tell me if you want to leave."

I apologized again, and we kissed and fell asleep for a few more hours.

When we woke up Saturday evening it was almost 10pm - and I got to experience the first hand negative impact of what happens the day after ecstasy.

Everything that night felt heavy and painful. Pablo and I snapped at each other over everything. Neither of us had energy to do a thing and we both seemed miserable. Pablo weakly suggested going back to the club - and I seriously considered it- if not for the fact my flight back was at 8am the next day. We ate a quick dinner from room service, showered, and sat together in the darkness. He explained after he learned I was okay that he didn't want to go back to the hotel and that when he parties, he likes to be all night and all morning - so he went to a few after parties - though he said he really wished I had met him there. I told him some of what I had felt and that me leaving wasn't abandoning him versus just having this strange experience I needed to feel myself. Neither of us had any energy to even try sex that night and at 5:30am the next morning, I woke up, feeling even worse if possible, packed up my bags and woke up Pablo. We hugged for a few minutes, kissing each others necks and cheeks and thanking each other before I finally let go.

I watched as he repositioned himself under the covers and felt my heart break a little when I heard him almost whimper: "Desearía que te quedaras"( I wish you weren't leaving).

The taxi ride to the airport was painful. The flight was painful. Arriving at home finally felt like a blessing, and as I texted him that I had arrived safely and was back in my bed. I smiled as I read his last message to me: "Let's decide tomorrow when you will come back"