Loving Men-Jeffrey


Life has a way of taking its time.

I first set eyes upon Jeffrey about a month ago at a familiar restaurant here in Charlotte. He was the bartender. I bellied up to the bar and he walked confidently over to me.

“Hey, bud,” Jeffrey said.

“Hello,” I replied.

“I’m Jeff,” Jeffrey added.

“Is that Jeff, or Jeffrey,” I asked.

“It’s officially Jeffrey,” he said, “but I like Jeff.”

”I like Jeff too, I replied.

“I bet you do,” he said with a wink.

Jeffrey is 27, a handsome buck, standing tall at 6’1”, 180 pounds, with chameleon eyes that change like mood rings. He sports a wonderfully thick pelt of a brown beard.

Even though we’ve known of each other for over a month, yesterday was our first lunch date. While only 30 minutes, we ate sloppy cheeseburgers and fried pickles. We sat side by side without a bar separating us. And we talked and laughed and shared stories and common interests.

Last night on his way to work he called me; this morning when he awoke he called me, and tonight he’ll call me.

While Jeffrey is one of my favorite names for a man, I like Jeff too.

Indeed.