Robert Hannibal emailed me the Monday after our date, late at night, which was a warning sign he was married, but I chose to believe that he was simply too busy to email any earlier. And I wanted to believe that his email address really was the one he used for friends and family; I rationalized this because I have a few friends who have email addresses that don’t include their real names.
Because I thought about Robert Hannibal all the time, any mention of anything having to do with anything that reminded me of him struck my ears. One of my roommates is from Trinidad, and he always talks with me about economics, etc. He was telling me about Michael Manley, who had been a leader of Jamaica, and my roommate said Manley was one of his idols and was so good for the Jamaican economy. And one of my classmates is writing a story on Jamaican dancehall queens, and so I offered to help her if I could, and find out information about it.
So in response to Robert Hannibal’s four-sentence email to me, I replied with a six-paragraph essay asking him about Michael Manley, Jamaican dancehall queens, etc. I just wanted to converse with him. I thought of how I would often roll my eyes at my friends who would find out any topic of conversation they thought would interest a guy they had a crush on and then bombard him, and now here I was doing the same thing! But I couldn’t help myself. I just wanted to be with Robert Hannibal again, even if it was only via email. And I also mentioned I had fun at the club and wanted to go again.
He responded: “Sure, would love to check out some more events. I usually see my kids on weekends so I’m typically not available Fridays and Saturdays. I’m happy to alert you to weekend events if you can find a partner. That beig said, there is stuff happening during the week as as well. If you’re interested in checking out a Brooklyn club tonight, I’ll be free around 10:30.”
In a second email, he commented on Michael Manly and dancehall culture (not his thing) and I just fell in love with him even more for some reason reading that email. But it was his first email that cautioned me, referring to his kids. However, since he said he usually saw his kids on the weekends, I had hope. I thought he might be divorced, and that the weekend arrangement was with his ex-wife. I recalled the recently-divorced Filipino guy whom I had met at Onie’s club, who saw his son every other day. I also thought of “Dan,” the Filipino who I had group sex with and that was the only thing I liked about him, other than his kids. He and his ex-wife had a flexible arrangement with the kids. So it was possible Robert Hannibal was divorced or separated.
But I didn’t want to get my hopes too much. So I responded that I was definitely interested in the Brooklyn club, since they had ‘bi’ nights, and I told him I understood about weekends not working out for him. I mentioned that the only person who could be a partner for me to go to swing clubs with would be “PR,” the promoter for Onie’s club (PR is always saying he wants to go to swing clubs or parties with me, even though he has a wife and a girlfriend). But I added in my email that PR “has the same reasons as you why he can’t do weekends, because of his kids and his wife.”
Robert Hannibal didn’t respond to that last bit, only to the club part, saying that he had the day wrong and the “bi” night was actually the next night. Since he didn’t address the “kids and his wife” part of my email, I wondered if he really was married and was acknowledging that by not correcting me. But I hoped that he was divorced, or at least separated. He had to be if he only saw his kids on the weekend – if he were still married, he would see his kids everyday. That comforted me.
Then Robert Hannibal sent me another email that day about trying a different swing club that night, called Carousel. When I arrived at Carousel, Robert Hannibal was waiting, and I realized this was the same club where I had gone the Saturday of Thanksgiving weekend, the couples-only event where the Asian woman and her man had flirted with me and I didn’t do anything.
But because it was a Wednesday, a weeknight, and there wasn’t a specific party going on, the club was much less-crowded than it had been the night I went. There were absolutely no women I was interested in, let alone any men, but Robert Hannibal had us watch an older couple, probably in their late 50’s, on the bed in one of the rooms. He touched the woman and I couldn’t understand what he saw attractive in her, although for an older woman she was nice-looking. When the couple finished, they told us it was their first time at a swing club, and I said, “Congratulations!” But I hadn’t touched either one of them.
Then the couple left and Robert Hannibal and I were alone and had wonderful, amazing sex. I don’t know why he is so good and how sex with him affects me so much when sex with any other men doesn’t affect me at all. At ALL! I don’t come close to orgasm with Robert Hannibal, or any man, of course, but I just love, love being with him and only him.
Now, although I didn’t come close to orgasm with him, for me to actually be present while having sex with a man and to actually *like* it and not just tolerate it or hope he cums soon is a completely new experience. I can’t explain it. But from the very first time we had sex, and every single time since, I am present in the experience. I am with him. And I love it.
Then we got up to get a drink. At this club, they don’t have robes or towels, so we were walking around totally naked. As I stood on one side of the bar and he on the other, he just stared at me, and so I said, “What?” And he said, “I’m just looking at your breasts.” Normally, a statement like that would be so creepy and rude, but from him, it sounded thoughtful and contemplative.
He also said he would take me somewhere I would really like, and I asked him where. He said he wouldn’t tell me because he wanted it to be a surprise. I hoped it was the “One Leg Up” parties. I was so intrigued by what he had told me about those parties – the elegant atmosphere, sometimes on a yacht!
After getting a drink, he took me on the dancefloor. We were the only ones on the floor and we just started dancing very close with our arms around each other, both of us still naked, and I could feel him getting hard again. Then he ran with me, grabbing my hand, to one of the secluded couch areas and we had sex again. Again, it was amazing. I didn’t think I would ever get tired of sex with Robert Hannibal. How can he be so different from any other guy?
Then we hung out some more, and ended up having sex one more time. Still, I was not bored with him. I loved being with him each and every time. And all the time in between. Sex with him three times in one night, just the two of us. That was perfect for me.
At the end of the night, a cute black girl as part of a couple arrived at Carousel and she touched my breasts. It was late so Robert Hannibal and I had to leave and I didn’t mind missing out on more of the touch of a woman.
Once again, he put me in a cab and sent me on my way, and I eagerly awaited when I would see him next.