BgayBproud

After waking up from my initial nap, I needed to eat. Since my hotel was right across Reforma from the Zona Rosa, I decided to go there and see what I could see. I wandered around until I found an attractive small gay café with a view of the street, and so I went in and asked for a table.

BGay BProud is a rather stylish and colorful place, with track lights, and art on the walls. The tables all small and high, with bar stools to sit on. And there are big windows on either side of the door, which open onto the street and you can sit and watch the world go by. Though I didn’t realize it at the time, BGBP was established as a place for younger gays, who either weren’t old enough to go to bars, or didn’t want to. Though there were few people there at the time, the crowd was young, attractive, and trendily dressed.

My drinks and sandwich arrived, and the waiter smiled at me and said, “Buen Provecho.”

“Gracias” I said.

I ate for a while and leafed through my Lonely Planet Guide. What would I do next?

The waiter had come back.

“Is there anything else I can get you?” he asked smiling and looking deeply into my eyes.

“Maybe another mineral water,” I said, returning his gaze and noticing how beautiful his eyes were, framed by beautiful long lashes.

When he returned with my drink, he stopped to chat some more.
“How long have you been here?” he asked.

“I just got here this afternoon, actually,” I said.

“What are you doing here?”

“I came here on vacation. I wanted to see Mexico City.”

“Where are your friends?” he asked.

“I came alone. I was supposed to go on vacation with another friend, but at the last minute, she couldn’t go. So I decided to come to Mexico.” He was still smiling at me, so I smiled back. “What’s your name”

“Adrián,” he said.

“Mucho Gusto. Soy Kim” I said.

Adrián was indeed handsome, just shy of 6’ tall, slim and angular. He had a wonderful smile, jet-black hair combed into a “faux-hawk,” and had beautiful, olive skin. And a very charming friendly manner. I would later learn that he had lots of friends, and was a very popular guy.

“Would you like me to show you around?” he asked.

My heart leapt. I had scarcely been in Mexico for four hours and already an incredibly handsome young man was asking me if I wanted him to show me around. This hadn’t happened to me in years. While I think I’m in pretty good shape for my age, the fact of the matter is that I was 45 at the time and not used to handsome 22-year olds angling to hang out with me. And in gay years, 45 equates to about 65 in the rest of society.

“Me gustaría mucho.” I said. I’d really like to.

We agreed to meet the next day, and he would show me around. Meanwhile I spent the rest of that afternoon wandering around Mexico City’s Centro Historico, centered on the Zócalo and the Cathedral, snapping photos, and eagerly wondering what the next day had in store.

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