Not only had Paul an expensive car and a massive town house, but he also had a yacht. When a few days later we met again, he invited Adriana and me to join him on his yacht for a drink or two, as he intended to take us a few miles away from the coast and show us some romantic views. I must admit that I felt very tempted, however as I did not trust the man too much, I decided to avoid being with him in an isolated place in the middle of the sea, where, in case of danger, Adriana and I would have not been able to escape. Paul did not take my refusal too well. One day he freaked out and he asserted that I had told him to be in love with him. I made clear to him, that he had most likely dreamt about that and that I would have ever neither had sex with him nor I would have kissed him. As a reaction, he swore to me and I broke the contacts for good. I did not regret having met Paul, as at the end he did introduce me to New Haven’s gay nightlife. There was “The Bar” on a Tuesday, “Partners” on a Thursday and “Gotham City” on a Saturday.
West Haven was located some three miles away from downtown New Haven and the local public transport was not running after 10pm, thus I had to find an alternative way to reach the gay night life. As my finances did not allow me to pay for a taxi, I had no choice but going the whole way on foot. Walking never scared me, however the way between where Adriana and I used to live and the fun places, was definitely not one of the safest. I had to walk from Simon Place down the hill, at the busy main Street I had to turn left and enjoy a side-by-side walk with the spookiest cemetery ever. Most of the graves seemed to belong to Italian-American and French-American souls, however they looked very different from those one sees in Parisian or Roman cemeteries. Some of the gravestones were covered by overgrown vegetation that partially hid dates and names. Luckily I had a cheap walk-man with me, so the rhythm of the “Green Day” and the “Offspring”, helped me to overcome my fears for zombies.
The first time I entered in the “Gotham City”, I noticed how the guys were looking at me with curiosity. I wasn’t used to getting so much attention: in London I was just one in millions of new faces. In New Haven I was “the Special guest”: guys were buying me drinks just to have a chat with me, to find out from which curious place I was coming from and to hear my weird different accent. That night I saw him. He wasn’t too tall, but he had a perfectly shaped muscular body, some blue eyes and a mysterious air. Kevin started looking at me and eventually he came close to me to start talking. He happened to be a French-American former marine, but at the time we met, he was a construction worker in East Haven. The best attributes he had, were his cheeky smile, his masculinity and his amazing muscles. After some hours of chitchat, he asked me if I wanted to see his place. Of course I did accept and I followed him to the parking space just outside the club. Although I cannot remember what car Kevin owned, I do remember it looked like an expensive convertible. I sat on the right front seat next to him and suddenly I felt something was moving towards me. I freaked out a little and then I realized that the belt was fastening itself automatically. Kevin took the chance to laugh about my reaction and to show off the greatness of the American technologies: those automatic belts that I had never seen in Europe, but that were commonly used in the United States. We drove through the night, the moon and the stars were shining above us and the fresh breeze was blowing on our faces. It was a 30-minute drive, on a hilly and rather green area of the county. Finally we reached Kevin's house: it looked impressively massive and modern.
He opened the garage door with his remote control and he parked the car. The lights were on and I could hear the noise of a television, so I asked him if someone was home. I was surprised to find out that Kevin lived in that huge place alone and he never turned off his three huge televisions (one per floor) or the lights all around the house. Kevin locked the car and we left the garage to enter the annexed modern living room. Once there he looked into my eyes intensively and he started kissing me, a deep passionate French kiss that one can hardly forget. Then he suggested that we should go upstairs and as soon as I took off my shoes, he lifted me with his strong muscular arms and he carried me all the way up to the second floor. A strong bloke like him had never come across me, thus I felt terribly attracted to this guy. His bedroom was tidy and bright. Once I had my feet on the ground again, I felt the soft white carpet and I started looking at his beautiful bedroom. He owned a king size bed, covered with an expensive looking duvet and six pillows of three different sizes. There was no wardrobe but he had a massive cloakroom full of branded clothes. The large windows were looking onto a dream lighted garden. Kevin turned off the light, he closed the curtains and he lighted up a few candles. The morning after we woke up late and had lunch together, he cooked some crabmeat with fried eggs. Just after 2pm he drove me back to Simon Place, where we arranged our next date and he kissed me goodbye. Our affair went on for a couple of weeks. During that time, Kevin swam in our condo's pool, took me to the cinema, where he bought me one of those American super-size popcorn-and-coke menus and we went together to the mall. I loved his way to be, somehow crazy but still pretty romantic, like when he kissed me in front of everyone in the mall, or when we laid together onto the mattress in the shopping centre, just to test the quality of some pillows.
Within two weeks Kevin went out of the scene, he started working long hours and he told me he did not want to get involved with a European guy who did not have a Green Card. I was hurt, but I recovered fast, in fact towards the end of July I went to " Gotham City" again. Luckily I had made some new friends like Benny and Michael, who used to give me a ride from West Haven to New Haven and vice versa on a Saturdays night. Michael was a 60-something-year-old former theatre actor. I was standing at the bar to get my Budweiser and he went: "Can I buy you a beer, sexy guy?" I accepted his offer and we started talking about his life and my roots, London and his dream city, Montreal.