I try to be empathetic. Honestly, I do. But sometimes my ego gets bruised and the cake 
just doesn’t seem to rise. And then I become defensive, hurt, and angry. When that happens my diplomacy gets sucked down the drain along with hope. Artem elicits a greater degree of empathy than I. He calls me negative. I call it Age.
Age differences in couples isn’t a new phenomenon. In ancient Greece, it was common for an erastes (adult male) to welcome an eromenos (younger 
male) into an erotic and homosocial relationship. It’s hard to debate the age differences between these two men in our 21st-century morals, but in ancient Greece, it wasn’t the age of the younger male that determined his fate, but his consent. Today there are couples that are attracted to each other that are the same age or decades apart. In America, we tend to turn a blind eye to age differences so long as the younger man or woman has achieved the age of consent (eighteen, nineteen, twenty or twenty-one years of age).
So what’s it like for an older man or woman to fall in love with a younger man or woman?
Heavenly.
Oh yes, and challenging!
Being in love with someone that’s a generation apart requires the adult male to accept the challenges of a yearning, sexually active, inquisitive partner. The younger male’s Joi de Verve is intoxicating. The adult male’s temperament provides the younger male with aspirations.
Both Artem and I have fallen in love with each other. And not with our generations. You see, I 
spy a younger me in Artem, and he sees an older self of he in me. We’ve found that both he and I mirror ourselves in the other. But we’re clear of this one important thing: Age doesn’t matter, for the heart knows no bounds and doesn’t understand the man made construct called time.
basis, I also enjoy the gutteral sounds eminating from throaty voiceboxes heralding his oncoming eruption of ecstasy. But even more than satisfying a carnal urge, I enjoy that simpler, drowsy time post coitus. That moment when the throaty growls become the soft purring of BedSpeak.
giggles, and tender moans. Sometimes it can be heard amidst the pouring of rain showers or as an elipse between the popping of bathtub suds.
my three-legged stool and stare across the ring of our bedroom to his sobbing frame sitting on the edge of the bed. He says between tears, “you’re the shoulder I’m supposed to cry on!”
want to cause his upset. I am his shoulder to cry on. I walk to the side of the bed and sit down next to him and see his jeans stained with drops of tears and runny nose. My hand reaches out to his face and he flinches as though burned by a match. My finger wipe away his tears and I turn his face to mine and I see his reddened eyes which resemble those of my childhood pet rabbit.
“Why did you say goodbye? You used that word; Of all the words to use, you had to use goodbye. Were you leaving?” he asked, still crying.
while laying back and pulling me atop him.
When we are born we are born alone. When we die we die alone. And somewhere in between if we’re lucky we’ll get the chance to fall in love. But falling in love is by no means a guarantee. I have male friends who have never fallen in love. And now that I think about it, 80% of the men in my life haven’t had the God given pleasure of declaring to their lovers that they’ve fallen in love with them.
relationship can ever be sustained unless all parties are equally represented. You see, we’re all bruised fruit in some way or another. But what makes us stronger is when we combine ourselves with like fruit to create a beautiful medley. A relationship is like a delicious Ambrosia salad.
in life, I discovered that indeed I had an eye for taking photographs. I never understood the desire that friends had for taking photos of everything. And I certainly never thought I would ever host a dinner where I forced guests to sit through my latest thousand photos of my last trip.
yearn for him even more (we’ll reconnect in a week). But I realized that the only placeholder for his beauty was my mind. Which plays tricks on me. Which distorts his image depending on how I feel about something.
