They are almond
shaped, outlined
in graphite with lashes
as long as a woman’s
manicured nails.
Milk chocolate
surrounds narrowing
and enlarging
pupils.
His eyes dart
as we kiss, sleepy
eyes that close half
way when napping, or
slitted
and half-opened
when passion begins
to swell like well rehearsed
orchestras;
Rodrigo’s eyes
are deep cool pools
in which I swim nightly, and
shallow pools in which I
wade in the morning.
Who among us have never longed to be someone else.
I’m often asked, “Are all the men you write about real or fantasy?”
They are all real. Each and everyone.
It’s their names which are fantasy.
They’re all aliases. Each and every one including Otter, Pup, D., Luciano, Jean-Baptiste, Sao Paulo, Isaiah, Corey, Calhoun, Mark, Michael IV, Micheal VII, Jeffrey, and yes, Rodrigo.
I write about how they’ve moved me, how they’ve touched me; I’ve written
about what they’ve said and how they shared it with me; I’ve described flanks, and torso’s, and buttocks, and faces, and waffling and pancaking (Rodrigo and I waffle).
I’ve learned that keeping my life secret was difficult for me, since I 
write a blog on the internet. But keeping the identity of lovers sacrosanct was something I hadn’t bothered to worry about. Who wouldn’t want to read about themselves on the internet?
All of them didn’t.
They understood and continue to understand that as a writer I will write about what inspires me, and what inspires me are them, the lovers in my life. But what they didn’t wish to share was themselves.
You see, how I see them and how the world would see them are different.
I write about them in ways that I see them; through my eyes; not through theirs. I point out things and feelings and places that they might never see.
An alias is more than a name.
An alias can be about an entire experience.
Dearest Readers,
My blog struck a milestone yesterday evening.
With Rodrigo at my side I checked the number of hits my blog has received since I started writing it back in 2008.
And there it was: 50,000+.
I turned to Rodrigo and smiled broadly.
“It’s at 50,000 isn’t it?” he asked.
“Yes, Rodrigo, it is, thanks to you?”
“Me,” he asked.
“You’ve inspired me like the others. Without inspiration I couldn’t write.
“And without readers I’d never be read. And that’s a writers lifeblood: readers reading.”
Thanks to each and everyone that collaborated to make this milestone a reality.
On to the next milestone, 75,000!
You know, I don’t care about age to be honest. I enjoy someone who can teach me something, someone I can have a great conversation with, just being able to be in someone’s presence and feeling perfectly happy.
The process of loving men are distinctions.
The evolving relationship by which Rodrigo now find ourselves has finally coalesced into distinctions: Curiosity, attraction, passion, and intimacy.
Our curiosity began on a dating app. Rodrigo was interested in my writing, so I sent him a link to my blog. Rather than reading it from the end, Rodrigo began reading it from the beginning. He wrote, “I think I’ve gotten to know you by reading what you’ve written. You’re a very talented writer and passionate man.”
Our attraction was launched over a Friday night dinner at Sea Level, an oyster bar/seafood restaurant in Charlotte. We sat at the bar and enjoyed dinner. Rodrigo is an agile 5’7″ tall, and a lean 140 pounds. But what attracted me to him were his eyes: almond-shaped and pupils surrounded by milk chocolate. His bright smile spread across his face when we laughed. And we laughed a lot. He often said that he was attracted to my laughing and smiling which highlighted my high cheekbones and strong jaw; but it was my eyes, blue, which also smiled when I smiled.
Our passion was ignited by the first kiss, in my car after dinner. It was a simple closed
mouth kiss, lacking any compromise. But the more frequent the dates, the more frequent the kisses. We have now kissed millions of times and it’s hard to believe that any of them were similar in any way. The flames of our passion were fueled by obstacles: buttons, snaps, zippers, shoulders, denim, and buckles.
Our intimacy is now the ease and comfort of understanding each others’ body. There’s still the passion, the obstacles; we still have attraction; our curiosity is seen by our wandering hands and lips.
There are distinct distinctions of loving men. The joy is in their discovery and the discovery of them together.
HARLAN DIDRICKSON 