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The day after: Choices, choices I don’t think I even set an alarm to wake up today. The point of me spending these two days in Barcelona is to adjust to Europe time before my impending work trip. And since I’ve been to Barcelona a few times before, there was no need for me to go out and tour the city. These two days were only for rest and relaxation—and to me, this means spending some time checking out the lay of the land, so to speak. I look at the time—it’s about 11:30 AM. Not a bad time to wake up and still have time to have a quick bite to eat and maybe check out the gym in this hotel. I take a quick shower, notice my first hickey right away—it’s up near my right nipple, red and bruised, probably the Moroccan’s fault. I should be expecting a few of those before the weekend is done. I head off in the direction of the mall Arenas Barcelona, which has been a staple for me through the years, to find a bite to eat or get some last-minute clothes or kicks. On the way, I find a pretty crowded coffee shop (Morrow Coffee) and decide to get my bite there: I of course open up Grindr while I enjoy this latte. Some unopened messages from yesterday. I answer some and survey the current grid. Lots of hotties on display for sure. I get a ping from this random guy (cute-ish, Spaniard, says he is 25) who was pushing some gay tour around the bars of Barcelona. I didn’t need a tour of the clubs, as I have been to them many times before, but this would be useful for someone who needs to be oriented on the offerings of Barcelona nightlife. It’s a shame that the guy was selling tours and not himself. I would buy what he’s selling if that were the case. As I head back to my hotel, I give Pedro a cursory “Oi” and ask how he was. Unprompted, he tells me about his immediate plans. He tells me that he will be going to Thermas soon at 1 PM because he feels that there will be a better chance he would get clients earlier than later. This was a little bit earlier than what is common knowledge on the sites—that 4 PM–8 PM are prime boy times. As I get back to my hotel room, it is 12:45 PM. Should I head over to the sauna now, or should I check out the gym here? The buying clothes thing was just an excuse. **Decision #1: I go to the gym** Sex tourism is a marathon, not a sprint. And thus, with any physical activity, one must stretch first to last longer and to enjoy the activity better. So I opt for the gym. I told you I have stayed in this hotel before, but have not visited the gym at all, and thinking that this is a supposed gay hotel, the gym should be decent, right? Wrong. The gym was tiny. I guess that’s why they call it a “fitness center,” because this was not enough for any serious workout. Still, I had my mind set on working up a sweat, so I try my best to get it on the treadmill and push some weights and the chest machine they had. While I was working out, I got into an interesting convo on Grindr with a 35-year-old Spanish guy. He was tall (over 6 feet), with long light-brown hair, and cute. He seems eager to meet, and was conversing with me in English, so intentions were communicated fairly clearly on both sides. My fear in communicating in a foreign tongue that I have some fluency in—but am still subject to local lingo blind spots—is that things might be interpreted or communicated somewhat incorrectly, resulting in confusion upon meeting. It still beats using a translator, though, where translations can sometimes be even more confusing because Google Translate does not pick up on context well. As I finish up my workout, it is looking like this Grindr guy wants to meet. We have already exchanged photos of body parts, clear face pics, as well as us picking off the menu of gay sex options we were willing to partake in and which ones we enjoyed. There was a desire to meet on both sides. I had another decision to make: go to the sauna now, where there are apparently boys coming this early, or hook up with this Grindr guy? **Decision #2: I hook up with Grindr guy** Yes, I am potentially giving up one less orgasm, one less boy to hire from the sauna. But old habits die hard, and I quickly give him my address and room number, and a time to meet. He lived close by and was willing to travel, so I told him I would meet him in 30 minutes. I go back down to my room, tidy up the place for my gentleman caller, take a very, very thorough shower, and wait for him to let me know that he is in the lobby. I get the message from Grindr at 30 minutes, on the dot. I do love a punctual Spaniard. I head down to the lobby and see him sitting on a reception chair. He sees me and stands up. Yes, he is tall. Yes, he is photo-accurate, if a little bit tanner than what I expected. I can see the possibilities right away. And my dick responds right away to the hug he automatically gives me, followed by kisses on both cheeks. This was a proper hello for sure. What follows, of course, is only for the four walls of my hotel room to attest to. Suffice it to say that it was worth sacrificing some boy time for some local time, for sure. Anyway, after some post-coital convo about Barcelona, my next trip, and his work, he takes a quick shower and goes on his way. No more hug before leaving, which is fine. I tidy up the bed, take another very thorough shower, and am ready for the sauna. Shit, it was almost 3:30 PM, and I am going to need something to eat before the sauna. I could not eat anything big, oily, or starchy that will sit in my stomach for hours and impede my enjoyment at the sauna. After a quick search on Google Maps, I find Café Paradero, which had fairly healthy options to choose from. It was just a 5-minute walk from the hotel, so I hoofed it there to get my lunch. I got the acai bowl, which was exactly what I needed at this time. I was able to down that bowl in record time. I headed back to the hotel to brush my teeth (you can’t be too clean in these scenarios), and then was finally on my way to Thermas. It was 4:30 PM by the time I got to the reception area at Thermas. There were considerably more people on this Saturday afternoon than just hours before. Indeed, Saturday afternoon is one of the good times to go to Thermas. I changed into my towel and saw more clients as well changing and accessing their locker rooms. As I was about to head down to the bar area, I see Pedro, in his street clothes, emerging from the boy’s locker room. He sees me and heads over to give me a hug. “Coming or going?” I ask. “Going, I’m afraid. Sorry I can’t hang out today. One of my regulars really wanted me to be with him. I really wish you had told me you were coming, and I would have been able to hang out more.” “It’s okay. You have to earn money, right? I hope to see you on the next trip.” We exchange more small talk, but it was obvious he needed to leave. He gives me a final deep kiss, then goes through the door, and he’s gone. I head down to the bar area to get my first drink of the day. I think I earned it because I’ve already done a lot for the day. I see that the bar area also has way more people than before. All the chairs were occupied when I got there, but I sat down immediately when one chair became open. I ask for my usual Jack and Diet and survey the field. Looking around, I would say that there were two boys for every client on this floor. I see some clients sitting with two boys wrapped around them. I see a couple of clients who looked like they were boys, but soon were joined by an obvious boy, and I deduced they were a couple who played with boys in the sauna. I notice one client who was speaking to this boy. The boy had his back turned to me, but I could tell he was a stunner. He had well-arranged hair, broad shoulders, and blemish-free white skin. He was clearly gym-built, but not overly so, which was just perfect for me. They were speaking in another language. Perhaps Russian? I could be wrong, but both seemed to be talking as if it was their mother tongue. I catch a glimpse of the boy’s face. He seemed really young, maybe early 20s. Definitely white, so my Russian guess might be correct. Ukrainian? A possibility. I have zero radar when it comes to Slavic boys—I cannot tell them apart. I’ll need to get familiar, obviously. I was in no pressure. I had all afternoon. I kind of wanted to see what the deal was with this kid, but he was busy. Should I go upstairs to see if there were more choices to be had? Or should I wait for him to be available? Some other clients were eyeing him too. Seems like a popular boy. **Decision #3: I wait for this boy to be available** I was already within handshake distance. I could have tried to talk to him, but I waited, taking small sips of my drink. Some boys came up to me and tried to seduce me, but at this point I was only interested in one thing. I was patient and not in a hurry. After what I think was 30 minutes, the client finally left. Did he go just to pee? I didn’t hesitate. I gave the boy an “hola” and a light tap on the shoulder. He turned around. Wow—this boy is cuuuttteeeeee. He gave a little smile and met my hand for a handshake. “My name is Mike—and yours?” Well, Mike the Russian, i thought, let’s see if we can make this work. More with Mike and the rest of the boys, next.

None of these guys are available in Grindr.  I spot them via FB , in cafe , walking up & down on the corniche , in the train. Gridr is the real piece of shit in arab countries :  scammers, ugly bastards , thieves, all of them are never interested in your personality and are looking for quick cash for nothing. Stay away from gridr  

I had heard about them, but the concept of a waterfall massage surrounded by 20 other tourists? I am getting old?