New Year’s Eve, the annual extravaganza of glitter, glamour, and gratuitous tipsiness, has a knack for delivering the unexpected – the fabulous, the cringe-worthy, and sometimes, a combo platter of both. Then, as we stumble into the first day of the new year, nursing a hangover that could take down a rhinoceros, our mood that morning becomes the proverbial magic 8-ball predicting the year ahead.
Diplomatic Delights
Well, biatches, my 2023 began with a delicious twist as I found myself entwined in the arms of a Lebanese politician I had met just the night before. It was like waking up to a human box of chocolates – smooth, exotic, and oh-so-delectable. I couldn’t help but think, “Is this a sign that my year will be filled with a parade of gorgeous men? Or will I spend it dodging political scandals and incessant questions about my taste in men?” Let’s hope it’s the former, but either way, I’m buckling up for one wild ride!
Beirut Bombshell
My Lebanese friend Nicole is a force of nature, a veritable tornado who has swept me off my feet since I met her at a high-end nail salon in Beirut. With her larger-than-life fake-blond mane that could give Dolly Parton a run for her money, eyelashes so formidable they could be mistaken for medieval weaponry, skin as smooth and Botox-enhanced as a silk pillowcase, and a face that’s home to more fillers than a Thanksgiving turkey, she’s a walking, talking monument to glamour that you simply can’t overlook. And she knows everyone in town, with a bunch of gay men as her “besties.” I am curious to see if I have earned that title yet.
Soaring Soiree
Naturally, when this living, breathing spectacle of fabulousness announced she was hosting a New Year’s party, I knew I’d be there with bells on. As I crossed the threshold into her Lebanese soiree, I was instantly revived, my jet lag banished like a bad ex-boyfriend. If Red Bull gives you wings, darling, Nicole’s parties give you an entire fleet of private jets. And just like that, I was ready to soar into the night!
Debauchery Deluxe
The party was like a flamboyant potluck of debauchery, boasting a bit of everything: delicious Lebanese cuisine, enough drugs to turn a DEA agent pale (though I abstained, of course. I don’t do drugs), cigarettes, alcohol, glamorous women who looked like they’d just stepped off the red carpet (or the plastic surgeon’s clinic), and a veritable buffet of handsome men from all walks of life. They all buzzed around Nicole’s apartment like bees in a fashionable hive. I tell you, these Lebanese folks know how to throw a party that puts Mardi Gras to shame.
Politically Passionate
And then, like a gift from the gay gods, in walked a dashing, suited, middle-aged man. He arrived solo, unencumbered by a wife, mistress, or a “best friend” (wink, wink). Nicole made a beeline for the door, pulling me along like a comet in her wake. As she peppered the man’s cheeks with triple kisses that left him looking like a Jackson Pollock painting, she introduced us. “Dickson, meet one of my favorite politicians in this country.” Well, honey, he was climbing the ranks of my favorites faster than a drag queen on a fireman’s pole.
Politician’s Persuasion
As my newfound politician crush and I made our way to the bar, I got to know a tidbit or two about this dapper gent. Now, darlings, I must play coy here and withhold any further details about him lest I inadvertently out him to the world. You see, one of the solemn vows I took as the writer of the Closeted Mates stories is to protect the identities of our fabulous, yet discreet, comrades-in-closets. So, my dear reader, let’s skip straight (or should I say, gaily) to the steamy heart of this soiree.
Scandalous Splendor
As the politician and I mingled, talked, and clinked our glasses, our eyes sparkled with the promise of a night that would be equal parts glamorous and scandalous. In the midst of the glitz, the laughter, and the double entendres, we knew we were on the verge of a night to remember. And so, with drinks in hand and secrets in our hearts, we dove headfirst into the breathtaking adventure that awaited us.
Midnight Magnetism
When the clock struck midnight, we rang in the new year amidst a sea of drunken and high revelers. Gay boys paired off like perfectly coordinated outfits, the few single ladies snagged their gentlemen for the night, and Nicole, our ever-gracious hostess, had succumbed to slumber on her couch. Amidst the chaos, my eyes were firmly locked on the prize – the charming and oh-so-sexy politician who had captured my attention. We’d spent the entire night chatting, exchanging sly smiles, and the tension between us was about to erupt faster than a political scandal. He asked if I needed a ride, and let me tell you, I was more than ready for that ride of a lifetime.
Unexpected U-Turn
But then, things took a quirky turn. As we descended to the street, I daydreamed of some steamy car-based foreplay. Alas, my vehicular fantasies were dashed when a gaggle of armed men greeted us. So much for getting frisky in the backseat! I assumed he’d whisk me away to his place, but instead, he instructed his driver to drop me off at my apartment first. Disappointment washed over me like a torrential downpour of glitter. Surely this new year wasn’t about to start with a letdown? Our conversation in the car was stifled by our armed chaperones, but as we pulled up to my building and I thanked dropping me off, I blurted out the magic words: “Would you like to have another drink?” He smirked and replied, “Sure, I’ll come up.” And just like that, my new year was back on track, poised to kick off on the highest of high heels.
Magnetic Meltdown
I’m pretty sure we didn’t even make it to a three-count upon entering my apartment before our lips locked like magnets in a whirlwind of passion. He pressed me against the wall right by the entrance, and as our fervent kisses transported me to another dimension, I expertly liberated him from his pants faster than a drag queen can whip off her wig. And oh, the surprise that awaited me down there – pure, unadulterated perfection.
Passionate Puzzle
The following events are somewhat of a blur, a kaleidoscope of sensations and emotions. I remember his hot breath on my skin, the tender way he made love to me. But, as someone who usually prefers things a bit rough between the sheets, I was pleasantly surprised to find myself thoroughly enjoying this muscular man of power as he ushered in the new year with just the right touch. When our passion finally subsided, he cradled me against his chest, and we drifted off to sleep, entwined in each other’s arms, ready to embrace the promise of an amazing new year.
Sunrise Surprise
The morning sun kissed Beirut, bathing the city in a serene glow as I awoke, nestled in the arms of my slumbering political paramour. His peaceful, handsome face made me feel like I’d struck gold, and I couldn’t resist grabbing my phone to do a little research on my bedfellow. As I scrolled past a deluge of “Happy New Year” messages, I went directly to Google. Reading all about him and checking out his sexy power-filled photos, I felt like I’d won a prestigious national award just by sharing the sheets with this man.
Fleeting Fling
My blissful bubble soon burst when he stirred, his eyes fluttering open. “What time is it?” he asked, panic creeping into his voice. He scrambled for his phone, quickly dialing his entourage (who had been patiently waiting downstairs for the past six hours, bless their hearts). He mumbled a few words as he hastily dressed, then planted one scorching-hot kiss on my lips before dashing out the door.
Reborn Revelations
Despite the abrupt departure, my energy that first day of the year was utterly electrifying. I felt reborn, brimming with joy, positivity, and a newfound sense of sexual satisfaction. I was ready to take on the world! As I replied to a few messages and prepped for brunch with colleagues, I blasted music and pampered my skin with my trusty skincare routine. Then, suddenly, my phone pinged. It was a sweet, disappearing message from the politician, sent via an app he’d instructed me to download. He thanked me for caring for him and called me a “special boy.” Cue the swooning! Over the next few weeks, my romance with the politician shifted into high gear. Despite only meeting a handful of hot times, we maintained in touch by texting and late-night phone calls.
Perk-filled Periphery
As an American CEO in Lebanon, I enjoyed a bunch of perks. I mingled with the powerful, the famous, and the social media-savvy influencers. At a birthday dinner party for a friend of mine — who just so happened to be dating a politician, too — guess who made a surprise appearance? My very own political paramour! I hadn’t realized he’d be attending too.
Discreet Dance
As he entered the room, my heart momentarily plummeted, but his calming aura quickly enveloped me, making me feel at peace, secure, safe, and relaxed. He maintained a formal demeanor with me, which was perfectly fine. By now, I was a pro at navigating our discretion protocols. We exchanged warm smiles and engaged in casual “How have you been?” chitchat before taking our seats.
Taboo Table Talk
My friend’s politician boyfriend held a more senior position than my clandestine companion and was known for his conservative leanings. As the evening progressed, amidst the clinking of spoons, glasses, and bursts of laughter, the conversation took an intriguing turn: the “gay” word was dropped. A journalist at the table was discussing a piece he was working on about the LGBTQIA+ community in Lebanon.
Doppelgänger Dilemma
As the conversation unfolded, a cacophony of opinions filled the air, some of which (mainly from middle-aged Arab men) bordered on hate speech and outright homophobia — even our host’s politician boyfriend chimed in. That’s when my political bedfellow decided to weigh in with his two cents. Listening to him, I wondered if I’d had one too many cocktails. The man I’d been sharing my bed with launched into a tirade of anti-gay rhetoric, labeling “us” as unnatural, a “virus” in society, and a threat to the nation. Was this some doppelgänger or an elaborate government conspiracy? No, it was him, all right. I could tell by the way he couldn’t even muster the courage to look me in the eye.
Heated Heartbreak
Well, it was time for this bottom boy to rise to the top, honey. I dove headfirst into the fray, engaging him in a heated tête-à-tête as I passionately defended the rights of my community. With each word, my voice grew louder and more fervent (the gin basil helped). I could practically feel his heart pounding in his chest. The poor fool probably thought I’d put him on the spot. Little did he know that our community is about safety and solidarity, not the hatred he, as a gay man, was promoting against his own people. How utterly disappointing. He had transformed from a tantalizing secret lover to a colossal turn-off in the blink of an eye.
Dinner Détente
A quick-thinking dinner guest stepped in to defuse the situation, shifting the conversation away from the boiling point and allowing our inebriated minds to cool down. As the night wore on, my politician beau wouldn’t even dare to glance in my direction. Disillusioned by the evening and his hypocrisy, I made my exit, only to receive a text from him saying, “Sorry, and thank you.” I couldn’t be bothered to decipher the meaning behind his apology or gratitude, and frankly, I cared even less.
Prisoner of Prejudice
While I might sometimes understand cultural influences on attitudes towards the LGBTQIA+ community, it’s unforgivable for a politician to wish harm upon and demean his own people, especially when this can actively contribute to creating and enforcing discriminatory laws. How could I hope to change an entire system and heal a man so damaged by years of suppressing his desires and becoming a prisoner of his culture?
Ghosting the Guilty
In the days that followed, I ghosted him entirely. I deleted the app we used for our communications, and his sporadic “hello” WhatsApp messages went unanswered until our dalliance eventually faded into the ether. Our once-sizzling affair had been extinguished, leaving behind the cold, sobering reality of the world we lived in.
Power Top
Last but not least, a message to the powerful closeted mates, it’s time to stop living a double life and start using your power and privilege for good. We’re not here to force you out of the closet or shame you for your choices, but we do implore you to be smarter about how you serve your LGBTQIA+ community. It’s time to stop fighting against us and start fighting for us. Let’s work together to create a more inclusive, accepting, and loving world for everyone, one sexy politician at a time.
