My first few months in Lebanon had been nothing short of a wild rollercoaster ride. I traded San Francisco’s fog for Beirut’s unique chaos, preparing myself for the unexpected quirks of the city, including inconsistent hot water, relentless power outages, and seemingly lawless traffic. But despite it all, I couldn’t help but be enchanted by this city’s magnetic charm. And remember, in Beirut, if you’re not feeling dizzy, you’re not doing it right!
Closet Capers
Grindr dates had morphed into a tragicomic parade of closeted men (I do attract them), cheating husbands, and encounters that could have been ripped straight from the pages of a sitcom. But, to give credit where credit is due, Lebanese men, particularly the “tops,” have certainly earned a noteworthy 4.5 out of 5 rating in the bedroom (with honorable mentions going to American, Iraqi, and German gentlemen who have reached the pinnacle of a 5 out of 5).
It’s not all doom and gloom, though. Amidst the labyrinthine world of secret rendezvous, I’ve had the pleasure of meeting some truly fantastic people who proudly embrace their sexuality. They’ve become good friends and bright spots in an otherwise bleak landscape.
Trapped in the Closet
Unfortunately, my heart often strays to the alluring and mysterious men who are still struggling with their own identities. These closeted mates are abundant in Lebanon, and I seem to have a magnetic pull toward them. The reality of homosexuality in this country is a curious thing, with acceptance in certain social circles (often the wealthy and famous) but still widely stigmatized and even derided. Surprisingly, I’d managed to bite my tongue during the locals’ cringe-worthy homophobic jokes – a feat of Herculean discipline and self-control I’d never imagined I’d achieve.
One peculiar aspect of Lebanese culture is that many men continue to live with their parents well into their 30s, 40s, and even 50s. This means that they are subject to their families’ rules and expectations, leading many gay men to enter into marriages with women to appease those cultural norms. While there are advocacy groups working to break down these taboos, they still persist, trapping countless men in the closet for their entire lives.
Raunchy Routine?
In Beirut, my days were structured yet spontaneous. Each morning kick-starts with a steaming cappuccino from my treasured San Francisco coffee machine (finding capsules for it in Lebanon was akin to a needle-in-a-haystack quest). My routine includes a spirited bout of fasted cardio on my apartment’s treadmill, followed by a healthy shake and meticulous preening session with my arsenal of skin and hair care products.
After a full day at the office, I hit the gym – my personal hunting ground for eligible bachelors to feature in future articles. Post-workout, I refuel at a local eatery with a wholesome meal and round off the night with drinks at my neighborhood bar. There, I often rendezvous with my tight-knit American crew – Danielle, Melanie, Roy, and Ronald – a merry band of expats who brought a taste of home to my Lebanese adventures.
Sexual Fluidity?
On certain evenings, I’d find myself perched solo at the local bar, laptop open and wine glass in hand, tackling a slew of work emails – a necessary evil, given the 10-hour time difference between Lebanon and San Francisco. As I sipped on my gin basil and feverishly typed away that one night, I couldn’t help but steal glances at the stranger across the bar. His dark features, a dazzling smile, and flawless teeth captivated me. Living in Lebanon, it was often a perplexing task to determine who was gay, straight or simply swimming in the vast ocean of sexual fluidity. So, who was this man, and where did his interests lie?
Wine and Winks
After several stolen glances and unspoken flirtations, the intriguing stranger finally made his move. Sauntering up to the bar next to me, he confidently ordered, “a glass of whatever he’s having.” Turning to face me, he inquired, “So, what are you having?” The audacity of his approach, right in front of the bartender, left little room for doubt – this man was undeniably gay and unafraid to show it. My heart leaped in anticipation; not only had I stumbled upon a fellow gay man, but his confidence and machoism suggested he was a top as well. Jackpot, indeed!
Fumbling and Flirting
Our conversation flowed as smoothly as the drinks, shifting from playful banter to more personal details. As is customary among strangers, we broached the topic of our professions. For me, the answer was straightforward: a Tech CEO. Fancy, indeed. But when I asked about his line of work, he became evasive and somewhat jittery. After a moment of intense, Bond-esque secrecy, he finally revealed that he was a translator. I couldn’t help but wonder why such a seemingly innocuous profession had warranted such an air of mystery.
Line of Duty
Our conversation carried on, his wit and humor kept me entertained. While his intellect may not have been off the charts, his ability to make me laugh more than compensated. As he ordered a second drink, he began to grumble about the cost. It seemed that, like many in this country, his income was less than ideal. I generously offered to buy him a drink, but his pride intervened – an endearing display of the local machismo. As the drinks flowed and his tongue loosened, he finally made a surprising confession: “I’m a soldier. A Lebanese soldier.”
Unveiling the Uniformed Enigma
Our conversation progressed, and I found myself increasingly intrigued by this charming soldier. His humor kept me engaged, and I couldn’t deny my longstanding attraction to men in uniform. As I learned about the Lebanese military’s less-than-accepting stance on homosexuality (I mean, it’s as if they wrote their policies with a feather quill dipped in a vat of homophobia), I understood why he had been so hesitant to share his profession. With the drinks continuing to flow, I couldn’t help but wonder: what surprises did the night still have in store? Dirty thoughts boys, only dirty thoughts.
A Thrilling Ride with a Vintage Touch
I found myself climbing into his rusty 1997 BMW, an experience that felt like a delightful contradiction for a CEO like myself. This car was a relic, a testament to simpler times, and somehow it only added to the allure. It is a sexy moment. I wanted to ride, more than his BMW.
Earlier in the evening, I had informed my assistant of my date’s name and intended destination, despite his initial reluctance and fear of compromising his discretion, and soldier-closeted status. After all, it’s not as if I am going to tell my assistant, “Hey, this is where I am going to get laid. Write it down on my calendar.” Nonetheless, my top priority was ensuring my safety, especially in a country where hate crimes against members of the LGBTQIA+ community have been documented, and ignored by authorities.
Upon arriving at his modest apartment, we wasted no time launching into a fiery romance. As our passion intensified, he stripped off my clothes with a fervor that left me breathless. I reveled in the rough intensity of our embrace, and as he bit my neck, I felt a thrilling race through me. His inner soldier had been unleashed, leading us into a heated battle of desire. And when the dust finally settled, I knew we had both emerged victorious.
Passion’s Sweet Whiplash
I drifted off to sleep right next to him, ensconced in the embrace of this sexy stranger. Stirring from my slumber around 4 AM, I found myself parched and in need of some hydration. I gently roused him, and we exchanged tender cuddles and kisses. The contrast between his gentle touch and his earlier primal ferocity left me captivated – my own irresistible disaster in the making.
As we lay there, he confessed that our encounter was the best he’d ever had. Whether it was genuine praise or the charming effect of the Mediterranean waters, I couldn’t be sure, but I couldn’t help but feel a little smug. As dawn crept closer, we found ourselves succumbing to the irresistible pull of our desire, embarking on another thrilling round of passion.
Cardio Connection
Having completed my own sexy version of fasted cardio earlier that morning (wink, wink), I embarked on the walk of shame back to my flat to freshen up before work. Showered and dressed — all in black — I arrived at my office, my assistant already briefing me on the day’s agenda. Just then, my phone pinged. It was him – the Soldier. The messages came in rapid succession, from a friendly hello to the big “L” word. Déjà vu? I couldn’t help but think of the French guy. Do we ever truly learn from our misadventures? The “L” word already? It hasn’t been 24 hours!
From Soulmate to Stalker
By 5 PM, I’d received a deluge of messages from the Soldier. Plans for the evening were set – a rendezvous at our familiar local bar. As we sipped wine, he rattled off facts about my company and about me as if he’d conducted extensive research. Was my entire life plastered across my Instagram for all to see? Regardless, I wasn’t unnerved by his stalker-like behavior; the electrifying energy in bed later than night, more than made up for it.
CEOs, Gifts, and Unexpected Shadows
As a CEO, there’s something inexplicably satisfying about receiving gifts. Perhaps it’s the thrill of knowing that, for once, someone’s thinking of us rather than expecting a favor or some kind of help. And the Soldier had a knack for gifting. The next few days felt like Christmas: chocolate, flowers, even a printout of my picture on a porcelain frame. Why do Lebanese men love printed portraits of their lovers so much? Is it like a rite of passage or something? But I did feel special. However, this was only the beginning of a few unsettling coincidences that began to surface. He seemed to be everywhere I went, even when we hadn’t made plans. Was it a mere coincidence or something more sinister? I decided it was time to call in my trusty American squad: Danielle, Melanie, Roy, and Ronald. If you haven’t met them yet, I highly recommend reading my earlier articles to get acquainted.
Judgment Day at Phoenicia Hotel
On a chilly December evening, we convened at the Phoenicia Hotel in Beirut – a bastion of luxury and refinement. My four friends arrived, each exhibiting their unique style: wise Danielle in her classy pants and shirt, fashionable Melanie sporting a Dior-esque skirt, laid-back Roy donning his usual jeans and t-shirt, and Ronald channeling Heath Ledger’s Brokeback Mountain vibe. This eclectic group would serve as the judging panel, determining the fate of my soldier beau. Lately, their collective opinions had felt like the most ruthless reality TV show judging panel – unanimously, and quickly, agreeing on a verdict. Was I just that predictable? Danielle warned me of his stalker tendencies, Melanie eyed me disapprovingly while sipping her cocktail, and Roy and Ronald couldn’t help but snicker about my uniformed paramour.
From Film to Flames
Despite my friends’ warnings, I was a moth drawn to the flame and couldn’t resist a cozy movie night with my soldier beau at his apartment. And I must say, he did not disappoint. He had gone all out, renting a projector to create a cinematic experience on his quaint, imperfectly-painted wall. As we snuggled up, the film wasn’t the only thing heating up that night.
The Slideshow of Surprises
He then dimmed the lights and unveiled a slideshow of images he’d collected of me from the depths of the internet. Initially, I was flattered – who wouldn’t enjoy a little attention from their lover? But as the presentation wore on, a creeping unease settled in. The sheer volume of images and the extremes he’d gone to find them were both awe-inspiring and disconcerting. Was this a heartfelt gesture, or the mark of a man teetering on the edge of obsession? The echoes of my American Squad’s voices played on a loop in my mind, amplifying my doubts.
The Shrine of Obsession
The mounting evidence of his infatuation was becoming increasingly alarming. This makeshift shrine, complete with all my photos and favorite songs (which he had unearthed from my tweets), pointed to an unhealthy level of obsession. My concerns would soon be validated by the barrage of messages he sent my way.
The American Squad’s Unanimous Decision
Returning to my trusty American Squad, I sought their final verdict. With a resounding 4-0 vote, they agreed that it was time to put an end to this peculiar affair. They were concerned. Steeling myself, I sent a text message – yes, I’m that person – informing him that I needed some space. Little did I know, this would ignite a full-blown conflict.
The Emotional Rollercoaster
In the days that followed, my life became a whirlwind of his ever-shifting emotions. Each morning, I’d be bombarded with furious messages, only to receive a peace offering by midday – chocolates, flowers, board games, you name it. Yet, as night fell, the angry missives would return, leaving me to navigate this storm of erratic affections.
Wise Danielle to the Rescue
Feeling overwhelmed and cornered, I sought solace in a one-on-one with my dear friend, Wise Danielle. She was my rock – her wisdom and insight had saved the day more times than I could count, and she had never steered me wrong. Danielle had the uncanny ability to cut through the noise and find the best course of action. With her guidance, she laid out a roadmap for me: I needed to stop responding to him and stay vigilant for any surprise appearances. Gifts must be returned by a driver. Eventually, he would tire of his pursuit and find someone new to obsess over. That’s what stalkers do, trust me (Danielle has had her own stalker, too!)
The Emotional Storm
The following days were nothing short of hellish. He called from unfamiliar numbers, sent relentless texts, and dispatched gifts that I promptly returned. But just as Wise Danielle had predicted, his persistence began to wane. The torrent of messages dwindled from a hundred to ten, and, finally, to none. The ensuing silence was eerie, but I chose to embrace it.
Lessons Learned from a Heartbreak Soldier
In the end, my tumultuous affair with the Lebanese soldier taught me a valuable lesson: sometimes, even the most electrifying connections can harbor dark obsessions. While it’s easy to be swept away by passion and gifts, we must remain vigilant and listen to our instincts – and the wisdom of trusted friends. In the face of such turbulence, it is our inner strength and the support of our loved ones that will guide us safely through the storm.
