What’s the difference between an eighteen year old and a thirty year old?

Flora and Fauna.

Think about dating an eighteen year old and dating a thirty year old. What’s the difference?

An eighteen year old brings youth, snap, and a bite. A thirty year old has a darkness, cultivated, with age.

Tonight I had them both on the bar. The eighteen year old folded to the thirty year old.

Im talking scotch, of course!

What’s the difference between an eighteen year old and a thirty year old?

Flora vs. Fauna.

Think about dating an eighteen year old and dating a thirty year old.

An eighteen year old will bring youth and muscle; a thirty year old will maintain the muscle, but bring with him age.

I’m talking about scotches, not men.

But in reality they’re the same, aren’t they?

We’re very familiar with our own body, but that of another?

I watch gay romantic movies. I’m always moved by the ease in which hands land on faces, in hair; how hands grip shoulders; or arms hang like draperies down backs.

We’re very aware of our body in space. But when another man’s body crosses that intimate 18 in he’s of personal space, something happens.

In new relationships, it’s as though a flint has been struck, sending roaring flames between the two. When you’re seasoned lovers it’s more like a cashmere blanket laid to ward off the chill.

When I watch lovers across a bar I can see them disappear into the other. Fully clothed they meld. It’s magical.

At some point in every lover relationship the pair becomes as comfortable with the others’ body.

This is called Love.

A gentleman can change his mind, yet keep his word. 

A server here in Charlotte snap chatted a receipt, with a generous tip I left for her.

It was an invasion of my privacy. Charlotte is a tiny town trying to be a big city.

Two days later, I had that server’s head on a spit. She had been fired.

And then I received a text explaining why she did it. And I bought her job back.

The GM and I shook hands and he promised me she would NOT be fired.

Ive tried to explain the difference between powere and influence. I have no power in life; I do, however, have influence. I’ve always had a subtle, quiet influence. And please, this is not my ego speaking, but my purpose.

We all purposes. One of my purposes is to relieve the suffering of others. It is not to cause suffering.

My ego asked for her head on a spit. My purpose returned it to her.

Not because I’m a good guy.

Oh no, but because I’m anything but a good guy.

My purpose? Everyone comes first.

Attraction can either be good news or bad news.

About a week ago I was sitting on the steps of Sophia’s when a waiter came across the street from the bar I haunt. He said that he’d seen me sitting here, and wanted to know if I wanted a cup of coffe.

I was flummoxed.

I stammered an answer, “Uhm, no.”

He then retreated back into the bar.

I never saw him again. That is, until last night.

I came into the bar late at night after dinner. There was only one barstool free, so I took it.

It was right next to Corey.

He turned to look at me and what immediately caught my eye were his eyes. Big, wide and sparkling; a jaw full of scruff; long hair pulled back into a ponytail.

I said, “you’re the waiter.”

”Yes, sir, and you’re the writer,” Corey replied.

And the next three hours are now a blur.

A blur, but a delicious, lingering, haunting blur.