I Met a Stranger in Mykonos — He Changed Everything
Setting the Scene
Viewed from the lapis waters of the Aegean, Mykonos appears as a mountain of bronze stones, artfully scattered and stacked on top of each other as if arranged by the gods of ages past. From the sea, they rise dramatically, guarding hidden coves and giving way to beautiful, sandy beaches.
At Elia, they serve as sun-drenched pedestals on which the male form is displayed. Sculptural and varied, these naked bodies stretch and drape across the warm boulders like living mosaics. Bronzed as deeply as the rocks themselves, their shimmer — a sheen of salt and sweat glistening in the sun — is the only thing that distinguishes them from these ancient stones.
It was here that we met. It was here that I gave my heart to him.
Looking south from Elia Beach on Mykonos, with a view of the island of Naxos in the distance.
The Backstory
Having worked on cruise ships as an entertainer, I’d been to Mykonos a few times before. I’d walked the charming, overcrowded streets of Little Venice. I’d rented a four-wheeler, braved the dust, and headed to Paradise and Super Paradise Beach for the vibes. But those visits were short — always day stops, always rushed.
Summer 2023 was going to be different. I was already in Europe, just coming off the whirlwind launch of Explora Journeys — my second new cruise brand in three years. I craved a true “gaycation” and Mykonos was high on the list. A friend and I had also been plotting a Mediterranean escape together for quite some time — featuring coastal Italy; but with the Hollywood strikes halting work, she had to pull out.
What began as a partial solo trip turned into a fully solo trip by mid-summer. The silver lining? I love solo travel. I thrive in it. Plus... it’s gaycation. (IYKYK)
I disembarked the ship in Copenhagen, took a train to Hamburg to catch up with an old friend and see her play Donna in Mamma Mia!, then hopped a flight from Hamburg to Mykonos.
And a few days later, we met.
The Encounter
Like most days in August, Mykonos was bathed in golden sunlight. The sky burned an intense shade of blue, rivaled only by the deeply pigmented waters of the Aegean. As was my routine on this vacation, I slept until my body told me to get up, had breakfast and coffee, then made my way to Elia Beach — the gay, clothing-optional oasis on the southern side of the island — to relax by the sea with the other naturists.
I’d spent the majority of my summer in theaters and rehearsal rooms — my skin was woefully unprepared for the ruthless Mediterranean sun. After a relatively short time under its rays, I got up from my spot on the beach and made my way into the refreshing sea, body bare and grateful for the cool relief.
I swam out a ways and sighed contentedly, quietly rejoicing in the feeling of the water caressing me like silk — buoyant, crystalline, softly lapping at both my skin and the shore. From several meters out, I could see the crescent of my little cove. The regulars were there, lounging in their usual spots, stretched out across the sun-warmed rocks like worshippers in prayer. Beautiful, naked bodies lay peacefully, enveloped by the hush of salt and waves. A slow trickle of newcomers, filtering in by the one hidden path that led here.
Beyond the cove, I could see the main beach spilling out before me, its orderly rows of umbrellas and sun loungers casting their shadows in neat little grids.
As I bobbed up and down, letting the sea cradle me, my gaze turned to the surrounding waters…and there he was, swimming his way into the the protection of our little cove.
The sun bounced off his wet, dark hair. His skin, deeply bronzed, shimmered as droplets slid down the angles of his chest. Salt-and-pepper scruff framed his strong face. And his smile. That beautiful smile was so genuine, so honest, it stole my breath. All of this I took in over the course of a few moments as our eyes met.
“Hi,” he said.
“Hi,” I replied.
What happened next exists somewhere between memory and dream. I don’t remember the details of our first conversation — but I’ll never forget its emotional imprint.
We talked as we floated, inching closer with each question, each glance. We were in that part of the sea where your toes graze the sand below, but only your heads crest the waterline. Eventually, our legs found each other — and then, naturally, mine wrapped around his waist. Just like that, we were face to face, chest to chest, suspended in the sea.
We stayed like that for the next two hours. No kissing. No touching beyond the gentle hold needed to keep us together. Just two bodies pressed close, held in conversation and something else unspoken. His eyes — deep, dark, flecked with amber — reminded me of Tiger’s Eye. Light shimmered across the surface of the sea and danced across his face.
“I’m getting kinda cold,” I finally said, reluctantly making to extricate my form from the beautiful two-bodied creature we’d become. “I probably need to get out of the water.”
“Yeah,” he said softly. “I need to head back to my hotel anyway. I’m actually leaving the island today.”
“Oh no,” I said, heart sinking. “That’s a shame. I would have loved to spend more time with you.”
“Me too,” he smiled.
He’d been on the island for a week, celebrating his birthday. Work was calling. He was flying out that evening.
We exchanged Instagram handles. He asked if he could put sunscreen on my back before he left.
“Of course,” I said, stretching out on my towel. The sun was strong and I welcomed the gesture.
Then, this beautiful man that I had just met knelt beside me and rubbed sunscreen into my back with a quiet tenderness, working his way from the nape of my neck all the way down to my ankles. Not quite a full-blown massage, but not just sunscreen either. I felt suspended in time — that moment so simple, slow, and strangely intimate. And then, he asked if he could hold me for a bit.
So we lay there together on my towel, curled into each other. I didn’t want to move. In the span of barely two hours, I had felt a kind of intimacy and energy I didn’t know could exist between strangers. There was chemistry, yes — but also something more magnetic.
Did we kiss goodbye? I think so. I honestly can’t remember.
I do remember watching him walk away, gazing after him even after he disappeared around the rocks. Then I lingered, floated in the afterglow, and finally made my way back to my hotel.
Later, a message lit up my phone.
“So… it turns out my flight’s delayed. There’s a cute restaurant right across from the airport and I’d love to take you on a date while I have the time. Would you be interested in coming in to meet me?”
My heart swelled at the thought of spending more time with this man, this acquaintance that instantly stole my heart.
“Yes, I’d love to!”
The First Date
He was waiting out front with his bags, scanning the café entrance. As he caught sight of me, he beamed, and we made our way toward each other. Our arms opened in unison and we fell into a deep embrace — not the hug of new acquaintances, but something warmer, older, like we already knew each other.
We grabbed some sandwiches and a drink and talked. About family, work, where we lived, what we wanted in life, and how we could see each other again. Everything flowed.
I told him I was in Mykonos for one more day, then heading to Naples, and eventually Rome.
“If I can get off work and come to Naples next weekend,” he asked, “would you want to spend more time together?”
I lit up.
“Y-y-you’d do that?” I stammered.
“Yes,” he said.
The Beginning
A few days later, we had our second date. He flew to Naples, and we spent two days exploring, eating, swimming — talking our way through both the city and each other. As our time together in Naples came to a close, that goodbye came easier. Not because it hurt less, but because it came with a plan. And the rest, as they say, is history…
His name is Anton, by the way.
Anton is the one who said yes — fully, wholly, bravely. He is the first man who made space for me without flinching. Who matched my energy. Who meant it.
So, in case you’ve ever wondered who the man that features so heavily in my content is…now you know. You’ll be seeing more of him here, of course. Because since that day in Mykonos, he’s been my partner and best friend. I have so much more to say — about the joy he brings, how he challenges and softens me, how he makes me want to be a better man — but for now, this is all you need to know:
Nearly two years ago, we both said ‘yes’.
We dove in — and it’s still the best decision I’ve ever made.
