Out now my first collection of gay short stories!

My first collection of gay short stories has arrived! If you’ve liked my free short story Club Brando (available on Amazon), don’t miss this new anthology of gay short stories, full of funny, sparkling and sizzling situations, with a little touch of mystery!

Click here to purchase Andropology.

Meet my new characters Tim, Adam, Fitzroy, Julien and Ryker, and find out which troubles they are about to get in. If you fall in love with one of them, please let me know and take this quiz. Also, here there is another game for you to found out which Andrology’s character is your BFF material.

I created these stories for you to taste which is my literary world, inspired by my own favourites type of stories (romance, comedy, mystery, chick lit), full of funny, heartfelt (and very single) characters.

PLUS, a Bonus Story. Find out what happens after Lee’s first adventure at Club Brando in Club Brando. The Initiation.

Funny dates, forbidden love, enemies to lovers, unexpected romance . . . Are some story lines that you will find in Andropology.

As a sneak peek, here you have an excerpt of The Last Dateable Man in New York, one of the stories that have received more praise from the ones that have read this collection. I hope you enjoy!


Tim is worried about his best friend Emma. Surrounded only by her cats, she’s convinced she’ll die alone. In order to prove her wrong (and to keep her from turning into a nun), Tim agrees to a dating game that puts him in the arms of the man of his dreams. What could go wrong? A lot, apparently. Tim is whisked into an adventure that quickly turns from fun . . . to deadly.

Excerpt from “The Last Dateable Man in New York” by Tom Caval

“Girl, kill him! Kill that motherfucker!” Emma yells at the screen between sips, the steam rising from her coffee to dance above her mug.

“You’re rooting for her?” I notice my voice is louder than usual, something that happens when I feel comfortable. And I am quite comfortable, my legs folded to the side underneath the cozy blanket as I lean slightly onto my best friend. It’s the perfect refuge from the cold rain that taps at the window.

“Oh, come on!” yells Emma. “That was your perfect chance to murder him! Now it’s too late because you wasted your time gabbing and explaining everything. Yep, look, what did I say? Now he’s got your knife.”

Should I be concerned that my friend is relating so much to the psycho-stalker lady? Maybe. I’ll be sure to keep an eye on the knife rack.

“This movie is terrible,” I say, in an attempt to change the subject.

I reach out my hand and she turns the chip bag towards me without a word. I look out the window for maybe the hundredth time, hoping that the skies have cleared so we can go shopping, which was the original plan. The sheets of water that sentence me to an afternoon of cheesy thrillers remain, however. I’d hoped for some Hitchcock, or maybe a Patricia Highsmith flick, but I don’t complain. It could be worse: a Sunday evening in Monticello watching sports with my homophobic father and listening to my mother tell me to look for a “real” job. She could be as persistent as this rain, despite my constant reminders that freelancing is a real job—even if I don’t have clients.

Emma lets out a frustrated sigh as the psycho girlfriend whispers her last words to the hero: “I loved you.”

I roll my eyes. “Ding dong, the witch is dead!” I hold out my hand as I take a sip from my third cup of coffee, anticipating the impact of the throw pillow coming from Emma’s direction. “Fine, I’ll be nice.” I put down my mug and place a smiley sticker on the Deadly Love DVD case. I give it ‘GOOD TRY!”—the lowest level on Emma’s sheet of emoji stickers for her kindergarten class.

Emma places a “SUPER!” sticker right next to mine. “It would have been ‘WAY TO GO!’ if she’d have killed that pig.” She points at the picture of the strong-jawed hero on the cover of the DVD case. I guess we are the last people on Earth to use DVDs anymore, or at least the only ones under the age of fifty. I had felt like a baby in the rental store on the corner. I’d made fun of her at first, but I stopped when she started talking about “supporting the local businesses.” If it makes her feel old school or retro to rent a DVD for a dollar, I’ll let her have it. I’ll be a good guest—she is giving me the chance to be away from my parents as I interview for jobs in the city. And by interview, I mean waiting for employers to call me back.

My best friend mutters more support for the angry-looking woman on the DVD case.

“You’re scaring me, Emma.”

“I’m serious, I feel for her! Women in Hollywood aren’t allowed to express themselves without being called ‘crazy’ or ‘over-emotional’.”

Emma needs to get outside, I think the lack of sun is getting to her. “She wasn’t just ‘expressing herself’ . . . he hid inside his trunk for two days straight just so she could figure out where he was going.”

“Okay, maybe she was a little intense. But I understand her.”

“You understand her psychopathic behavior?”

“No, I understand her distress over being rejected. She finally finds a decent, handsome man with a job and he dumps her after they sleep together.”

“So that makes it okay for her to cut all the faces out of the photographs in his apartment? Besides, it’s not that hard to find a man.” As soon as I say it, a rock forms in my stomach. I think of the condom in my wallet that’s been in there for over a year, and remember that the two of us have both been single for just as long. I look at the knife rack again and worry that another rejection could turn her into a maniac like the one in the movie we just watched.

“You know I’m right. When’s the last time you were on a date?”

I force a scoff, but I’m not sure she’s convinced. “I don’t know, six months? But it’s been a long winter.”

“No, Tim. There are no men left. They’re either taken, weirdos, or alcoholics. Period.”

“You forgot podcasters.”

“No, I didn’t. I said weirdos.”

“You just need to lower your standards. You’re not twenty anymore.” I frown because I’m almost a decade past 20 myself.

“Bitch.” She hits me with a pillow. I didn’t see it coming this time. She didn’t throw the pillow because it upset her; she threw it because it was true.

“Maybe we both need to be less picky.” I made the issue about both of us, instead of singling Emma out.

Still, she shakes her head. “I feel like I’ve talked to all the men in New York.”

“There are hundreds of thousands of men in this city, and a few of those might even be straight.”

Emma gets quiet. She starts scrolling through her phone, something I know she does when she doesn’t want to talk anymore. I glance at the credits scrolling up the screen and pick up another movie off the coffee table. “What do you want to watch next? Delusional Passion?” Seems like we picked movies following a similar theme.

“Nah. I have to get some sleep. Some of us work, you know.”

Ouch. That one hurt.

Emma stands without a word and puts the DVD back in its case. She drops the movie back on the table and sighs dramatically. My friend is the most aggressive passive-aggressive person I know.

“Listen, you’ll find someone,” I say. “Just be glad you’re straight; it is cutthroat for us gays. Not literally. Well, usually not. I told you about that masked sex party, right?”

Emma scrunches up her face. “I didn’t need that reminder. And you guys have it way easier. Everything is straight to the point. No games.”

I roll my eyes so hard I can almost see my brain. “Emma, gay men are the most complicated people. In. The. World.” If my several wrist flourishes are over the top, it proves my point.

“Really? Alright then. I have a game for you.”

I love games.

“I pick a date for you, and you pick a date for me.”

I hate games. “This sounds like a terrible idea.”

“C’mon, it will be fun.”

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