Love isn’t always harmonious.
Pup and I had scheduled dinner last night. I told him that I’d be waiting in my hotel bar for him. Pup has an aversion to hotels. He’s frequented them of course, but I guess there’s something creepy about coming to a “stranger’s” hotel room.
I find it odd why Pup would consider me a stranger. How can someone you’ve been intimate with be a stranger. But I suppose I’d chalk it up to youthful exuberance.
And please, would someone tell me what the allure is with dating someone young? I mean, I know there’s the visual attraction. Really, who doesn’t want to stare at a sleek colt across a table? I mean, really! But young men bring with them a burden: a lack of grooming, civility, and gentlemanness.
Pup stood me up last night.
Never, and I mean NEVER has anyone ever stood me up, much less a lover, unless there was a catastrophic incident. Even though Pup understood where I’m staying, he knew the address, there was horrible traffic (horrible? This is Charlotte for Christ’s sake), Pup decided to turn back and go home.
Then my phone died.
And that’s when the shit hit the fan.
“Your phone died for five hours,” Pup lobbed.
“Yes,” I answered.
“No one’s phone dies for five hours,” Pup replied, “what really happened?”
Hearing disbelief in his voice I shot back, “Fine, I was having sex with someone. And what business is that of yours?”
Needless to say, this exchange did not end well. “F-bombs” were lobbed, hurtful things were expressed, and in the end barely recognizable shards of our friendship lay scattered on the ground.
And today, I met David.
sitting in a large sandbox with my lovers pretending we’re sailors or bulldozers or explorers. While we’re undressing, I imagine we’re adventurers, and the unclothing of our bodies is akin to typography, scanning the mountainous terrain of shoulders and abdomens and hips and buttocks.
messages. And last night I was on a tear. So, at 6:00 a.m. I received a barrage of texts pointing out what a boor I was, that he’d listened to my voice messages, that he’d been busy all day with school and work, and why didn’t I just chill.
erected over the course of my lifetime began to lose footings; I suddenly realized that I had built my entire life on stilts set haphazardly on an overlook. And now it all was beginning to shift, to disintegrate; the cliff over which I’d cantilevered my life had decayed.
“hookup”. I am not a “hookup” type of guy. As I explain, I’m not a sprinter but a marathoner; I prefer conversation before consummation; I enjoy unwrapping my presents slowly, shoulder by shoulder, belt loop by belt loop, zipper tooth by zipper tooth.
his naked arm, the long shimmering hair that flowed like a river in one direction, and when combed opposite, like the hair on his head, sprung stubbornly back like a rip current.
