Coming Out

He was a stranger in our kitchen, doing a bit of washing up.  I needed to get to the kettle to make some tea.

"Oh hey, I don't think I know you," I said as I said my excuses to reach and grab the kettle.

"I'm Michael*," he said.  "I'm here visiting Rachel*"

I made my introductions and we struck up some mindless banter while I waited for the water to boil.  What program we were each in.  Which campus we attended.  Had I been to the UK before?  Things like that.  As part of my explanation for the last question I mentioned that I had dated someone from Britain before and as such had visited a few times.

"Right," he replied.  "Yeah, a lot of British girls go for American guys.  And the other way round, as well."

"Well," I started.  "Often British boys and American boys go for one another as well.  Boys and girls don't have the monopoly on that."

"Oh right.  Yeah.  Of course.  Cheers." And the mindless banter continued.

Don't ask me who I was channeling this past weekend.

This past weekend was Austin Pride. Saturday was, to put it simply, quite an interesting day. It started off bright and early for the Austin Pride Run 5k, complete with costume contest. Yes, I wore a costume. No, I will not post a picture of it here. I'll just say that the theme was "On the Beach" and I may or may not have been channeling Bo Derek. You can likely take it from there.

The rest of the day I tooled around on my bike around town, spending time with friends (some of which was poolside), and generally enjoyed an ungodly hot day. Perhaps it was the heat of the day that ultimately did me in regarding being able to handle the masses of Saturday night. Perhaps it was the heat that made them go all crazy. Perhaps it was just a combination that should never have happened. Like brown shoes with a black belt. Or capers and fruit pie. Or Dorothy Zbornack and anything backless.

So the gay bars were crazy mad busy. Many of my friends were out and about so I was enjoying hanging and drinking and chatting and dancing. Dancing shirtless. As one does. (Hey, if you got it...) At one point a big mob of amateur thugs wonderful people came walking up the stairs of the club where I was. Apparently someone said something about someone's mom or whatever and there were some fiery Latinas getting ready to "pop off" or something equally annoying. And the group seemed to be rushing through the club like a bunch of whirling dervishes, running into people, knocking people over, etc. I saw the train wreck coming and skirted outside to the balcony to get some fresh (albeit muggy) air and get away from everything for a moment.

As soon as I stepped outside and sat down an older gentleman walked directly up to me, stuck out his hand in greeting and said, "My name is XXXX (I can't remember), I am from Caracas. That is in Venezuela." He kept holding onto my hand. "Yeah, I know where Caracas is, I'm not an idiot," I replied. Without missing a beat he said, "You are very pretty. You're eyes are like fire." He kept holding onto my hand. Looking him dead in the eye I said, "Wow, that's nice. Can I have my hand back?"

Bitch, party of one? Yeah, I'm not sure who I was channeling at that moment.

No sooner did smooth operator walk away when some little twink boy walked right up to me, sat down next to me and asked for a cigarette. (Yeah, I was smoking. It just seemed like the appropriate thing to do at the time.) He had to be all of 22 years old, all bright-eyed and smiley. I gave him a cigarette. He put his hand on my leg and asked for a light. I lit his cigarette. He did some sort of smile, a shoulder lift, and what I can only describe as a mimic of a hair flip. I looked at him. I looked at what I assumed to be a friend of his closing in on us. I grabbed my drink and just walk away.

Mega-bitch, party of one? At this point I must have been channeling Shannon Doherty.

I went downstairs, found my friends, and decided it was time to call it a night. I walked outside to a massive throng of people walking up and down the sidewalk. And I gotta say, none of them looked all that happy. For Pride Weekend, people sure didn't seem all that proud or happy. I'm thinking it must have been the heat. I mean, I don't normally go from zero to bitch in 3.4 seconds.

I quickly got to my car and made my way home. I'm not sure I've been so happy to make it home alone on a Saturday night in quite a long time.

Well that was unexpected

So, there's this boy. He's tall. He's cute. He's funny, if a bit quiet. In fact, in the one-plus years I've known him, the total time we've actually had a conversation is prolly less than one work week. He's just this guy that is around. We see one another. We smile. Perhaps we make eyes at each other. I'm not sure.

Well, Saturday night was a bit of a throw-down dance off between me and a couple of friends. Suddenly this boy is next to me on the dance floor. We make eyes. We smile. We chat. At some point we exit the dance floor to cool off. In this particular club there is a wonderful spot overlooking the dance floor underneath an A/C vent, which is a just heaven on Earth after being on a crowded dance floor. We make our way there and chat some more.

Now, I may or may not have been a little inebriated at this point in the evening, so what we chatted about is a little less than clear to me at this point. I do know that at one point we kissed in a, "Oh yeah, we're going home together tonight," kinda way.

At some point after 3a.m. when we left the dance floor for the last time we hopped into a cab and started to make our way back to my place. Now, I have to pause for a second to say that me taking anyone back to my place at the moment is a big deal. Why? Well, considering I'm currently processing through all of my worldly possessions for my impending move across the ocean, saying my house is a disaster area is like saying the devastation to Galveston Island after last year's hurricane just needed a little sweeping-up. Well, somehow he convinced me that I had a reason for my place to be a disaster area, whereas his place was equally atrocious but he had no reason for it and we made our way to my house.

Upon arrival there is some kissing. Some clothes are discarded. Smiles make their way across our faces. Good times were had by both of us.

As we cuddle up and begin to drift off he asks me, "So, what took us so long to have sex?"

"Ummm... I wasn't sure that you were interested," I reply. "You're stupid," he says as he pulls my arms around him closer. We slept without moving, waking in the exact positions we laid down in.

The next morning, smiles once again spread across our faces. He asks if we should hang out again. I agree. We exchange appropriate information. We've text'd back and forth a small amount this week. But once again, I can't tell that he's interested.

Trust me. I understand the "Oh, let's do this again sometime soon" thing that is just said and not meant. I will admit that I've done it myself. I'm perfectly fine with this being whatever it was. I'm also okay with this being something more than just a random. The degree that it's something more...? Oh, I dunno.

But for whatever reason, this boy has been on my mind this week.

But... where are their clothes?

Friday night, April 30. Two days before the anniversary of my birth. I arrive in Washington D.C. to engage in some raucous events to celebrate said anniversary. Well, I'm not sure we intended them to be raucous. I mean, I am a good Southern woman. I don't do such things.

Do you really believe that?

We started off at Eatonville, a FAB-ulous Southern-style restaurant that serves up some mean drinks and even better fried green tomatoes. Since my friends and I readily admit to be the lushes that we are, we sat at the bar where our bartender Lauren took care of us. Drinks, apps, shots, drinks, food, shots, drinks, drinks. People wandered off on their merry way. Lauren explained her philosophy of people that "ain't shit." People joined our group. More food, shots, drinks... I think you get the idea.

Once we were well sauced, we piled poured into cabs and went... well... to a strip club. A male strip club. A male strip club in Washington D.C. For those of you that may not know, in Washington D.C., the strippers wear, well... shoes and socks. That's it.

It was definitely something to behold. If anyone says that there aren't enough guys willing to dance around on top of a bar, waving their business around, then you need need to head to D.C. The place, while not huge, was fairly large and had quite a few guys dancing around, shaking their money-makers.

Having never, ever, ever done anything like this before ever in my life, I had a few questions. What was allowed in my interaction with the entertainers. What should I expect? Where do I put the tip?

As it turns out, it's all very easy. One can touch below the knee and above the waist. The entertainer will likely just wave his ooh-hooo in your face. Place any money one tips the entertainers in their socks. Well that's all very nice. And boring. And Puritanical.

Well, leave it to me to push the boundaries. But I totally didn't start it. At some point in the evening, after a drag show (yes, they had drag queen shows as well) I was upstairs, enjoying the scenery, and decided to show my admiration to one of the dancers. I went up to him, smiled, and looked up at him as he was dancing on top of the bar. He waved... something... at me. I smiled again. I attempted to place the dollar bill into his sock. I missed. I looked up at him and smiled again. He laughed at my drunkenness lack of coordination. On the second try, actually having to watch what I was trying to do, I successfully tipped him. To show his appreciation, he smacked me on my head with his penis.

I was taken aback. I looked up at him in amazement, his cock just dangling in front of me. I looked him in the face. I looked at his cock. I took my hand and smacked his cock like a cat smacks a play toy.

He tried to scold me gently, telling me that I'm not supposed to touch him there, but I guess the look of bewilderment that I had on my face was humorous. He just laughed and shook his finger... yeah, his finger... at me.

Hold, please.

So I just got back from a rather interesting trip to D.C. for some birthday shenanigans. I shall try to get some stories up soon, but first I gotta see if I can remember the weekend. Or if y'all are old enough to hear some of these stories. Or if I might get indicted for revealing some of the things that occurred.

And he's gone...

Theater Guy is now gone. After one week, the show is moving on to Denver, CO for a two-week engagement. I'd like to think I sent him off with a nice little "Thanks for visiting Texas!" farewell.

This past weekend was rather crazy busy. The Hill Country Ride for AIDS was this past Saturday, so getting all prepped and ready for that took some doing, and then there was, of course, actually riding the ride. So my time spent with Theater Guy was a little limited. I had hoped to get together with him on Saturday night, but after getting up at 5:00am on Saturday morning and riding 65 miles in the Texas Hill Country, I just didn't have the energy. So, after a massive amount of sleep on Saturday night and a nice yoga and pilates workshop on Sunday morning, we got together Sunday evening for a farewell... ummm... thingy.

As we walked into his hotel downtown I commented that it had been a while since I had been in that particular hotel. Immediately I felt a little weird for saying that. I mean, I had been in that hotel for very above-the-waist reasons. Seriously!! Well, okay. Let's face it. For some very below-the-waist reasons as well. He just laughed. It's always nice when two people really understand the interpersonal dynamics in which they find themselves.

And so we ultimately found ourselves at the end of our liaison. Which was fine. As a friend said to me as I was heading off to meet up with Theater Guy, "He's here for one week. You're leaving in less than four months. This is PER-fect."

True. Very, very true.

Well, that's... honest!

I have now gone out with Theater Guy a couple of times and we've had some very good times. He's cute. He's funny. He's witty. He laughs at my jokes. He's cute. You know, all the things I look for in a whirlwind kinda thing with a guy that's in a traveling theater company that's gonna leave town in a few days. I mean, don't you have your own list of criteria for just such an encounter? See... I thought so.

Our get togethers have been a little challenging as I work during the day, he's in rehearsal for a good portion of the day, and he has the show every night until late. Tonight we got together for dinner and a nice little wander around the UT campus, just kinda chatting and laughing. As we walked back to the theater for him to get ready for the evening show, he asked if I was interested in getting together after the show. "Hrmmmm... I could be. What'd you have in mind?" I asked.

"Well, to be honest, I was thinking it'd be cool to just hang low. Cuddle, watch a movie. Make out."

I cracked up laughing. Hysterically. "Yeah, I think we could make that happen."

Like I said... At least he's honest.

In the Heights

Last night I went to see In the Heights, a Broadway Across America production here in Austin for the week. The story explores three days in the characters' lives in the New York City Dominican-American neighborhood of Washington Heights. I wound up going as a guess of John Aielli, the morning DJ on our NPR station here in Austin, KUT, and I gotta say, he gets some great seats!

The show was fantastic. The musical numbers were riveting. The choreography was outstanding. The boys were... HOT!!!! I love shows set in New York City during the summer heat. The costumes worn by the boys were very appreciated. Oh, and the story was not bad, either. (I kid, I kid). The story was great. Everyone in my party except John Aielli cried when certain plot line came around. To be honest, however, John had already left the event after the first couple of numbers, leaving us, his guests, to enjoy the show. Did I mention we were in 10th row?

After the show wrapped, Ava Ghurl and I went over the Oilcan Harry's where they were hosting the cast party for In the Heights. We chatted with many members of the cast and crew throughout the evening, learning their stories, recent travels, how they liked Austin, etc. All the while trying to work my way into talking with the sexiest men on the cast. You know, just to get their views on Austin.

While during the play I had my eye on one guy that I had informed Ava Ghurl that I was hoping would do dirty things to me. Once I actually met him after the show, however, I thought he seemed a bit pretentious and... well... Yankee. Seriously? Wearing dark designer sunglasses in a dark bar at midnight? mmm-hrmmmm....

But, I did spend a good portion of the evening talking to a new addition to the traveling cast. He had been in the Broadway production and is venturing out for some time on the road. Today, we met up for dinner. I took him to get BBQ and Amy's Ice Cream - had to ensure he got those two experiences under his belt. Tomorrow, if we can make it work between his rehearsal and check-in for the night's performance, we may venture out to Barton Springs. I'm guessing that Barton Springs is something that he doesn't get to see very often in New York City.

Let's Talk About Sex

My entries as of late have been far too focused on exercise with little to no mention of... Sex!! Well, there's one minor problem with me talking about sex right now. I'm not having any.

I know!! I know exactly what you're thinking. "How could this be?" And to be honest, I'm not exactly sure myself. I mean, I think about sex. There are numerous boys around town that I have found rather attractive and which induce tightness in the Levi's, but in the end, I'm kinda, "Meh... why bother?"

I think I may need to see a doctor about this soon.

I was out to dinner recently with Kelicious and some friends for his birthday when one friend asked me who I was dating. "No one," I replied. "Oh, you're dating everyone?" my friend then asked, with a wink. I paused for a moment, thought about his question, and said, "Oh hell no. I don't have time to think about anyone else's feelings these days."

Now, this might seem a bit crass and uncaring, but I've just got so many moving parts in my life as I prepare for the next step. Getting laid takes a bit of effort (admittedly not too much for me, really...) and I just don't have the energy for that. However, I'm not really missing sex that much right now. Yet, in the words of my good friend Great Abs Guy, I do miss missing sex.

Austin, te amo.

Austin, Texas. I have now lived here for over 10 years. This is the longest I've lived in any one place outside of growing up. At times I feel so completely comfortable here that I can't imagine myself leaving. At many others, however, I find myself bored with what the city has to offer and I desire the many wonders the rest of the world holds.

When Brit Boy and I separated last year, I thought my plans to head across the ocean for grad school were in serious jeopardy. I wasn't sure if I could just pick up and head over to the U.K. I wasn't sure if I'd be able to make it happen financially. I wasn't sure if I would make the friends I felt I needed to feel comfortable in London.

Well, fuck those thoughts. I'm heading over. I requested deferred admissions to grad school and they said, "You know, we really like you. Yeah, we can wait a year for you to join us." So, this Fall I'm heading to London to start a new chapter in my life.

Excited? You better believe it. Scared? You better fucking believe it. Petrified that I'll fall flat on my face and wind up living in a van, down by the river?!?! Well, maybe not that scared, but there is a bit of that in there. But in the end, I'm ready for something else. I have loved Austin for the past decade, but there are so many other things out there to experience.

"But, doesn't Brit Boy live in London?" you ask. Well, as far as I know, he lives in Brighton now. And while that's not too far from London, there are several million people in the London area. Depending on whether you are talking about greater London, the Greater London Urban Area, or the metropolitan London area, London has between 8 million and 15 million people living there (these estimates are a few years old, though). The likelihood that I'll run into him is pretty slim. And even if I do, I can always turn around and walk away.

But please. I don't wanna focus on that. I wanna focus on all the wonderful, adorable, cute, sexy, studly international boys that live in London that will just absolutely LOVE the fact that I'm a Texan. I mean, the last time I was there as a single man, it felt like I was beating them off (hey now!!!) with a stick. I may not have a Texas accent, nor can I fake one very well, but they don't know the difference. And what is it they say? Fake it till you make it (with a cute boy).

The Adventure

You can imagine that I didn't stay on the event site for very long after this all went down. I wanted to leave immediately, but both Senor Mas Fuerte and Shay Butter Boy convinced me to sleep and see if I wanted to have some more conversations with Brit Boy the next day. So, I did the deed of the dutiful divorcee and moved out of our tent and slept in a Shay Butter Boy's tent, curled up in my faux fur coats for warmth and comfort.

The next day, before we had our final discussions, Brit Boy stated that he was trying to help out and coordinate a way for me to get off site the next day with some friends of his. I looked at him and said, "I'm catching a train in roughly two hours and will make my own way home. The time for you to be concerned about my travel arrangements is now over." I know he was trying to be helpful, but no. His participation was longer necessary.

Senor Mas Fuerte and Shay Butter Boy drove me to the train station (before which we stopped in the town of Seriňena and had a few nice cold beers and some lovely tapas) and saw me off. I was headed to Zaragoza for the night. What was I gonna do? Where was I gonna stay? No clue. I just knew that I had to get away from the place where Brit Boy was.

As luck would have it, I met someone from Austin on the train to Zaragoza. He and his travel partner were staying in a rather nice, they claimed, hostel and invited me to come along. I did and I really enjoyed hanging with them. After we got to the hostel, which was rather nice I must say, we ventured out for more cold beer, some food, and to just see what the nightlife of Zaragoza consisted of.

Well, it doesn't consist of much. At least not close to where we were staying. We found a nice sidewalk cafe, got some mediocre food (I finally got my paella, as disappointing as it was), and had a grand time revelling in the surliness of our waitress. When we asked for some mustard ("Tienes mostaza?") she felt it necessary to correct our accent, for since we were Americans we did not have the correct accent for Spain. "Mothtaaaaaaaza," she repeated back to us. "Mosthtaaza," we repeated. "No!! Mothtaaaaaaaaaaaaaaza," she said, more loudly and more slowly. Content that she had "learned us good" she turned and ventured off to get the mothtaaaaaaaaaza.

The next day, we did a little bit of sight-seeing before I boarded another train to Barcelona. I have to say, I was impressed with my ability to communicate with the Spanish, even though I didn't have the correct accent. I speak Tex-Mex Spanish, not Casitilian Spanish, so it was a little challenging, but I made it work. I'm sure I sounded like the tourists to America that ask questions like, "Do you have the knowledge of how I can obtain the information of how to get to the station of the train?" Well, they understood what I wanted and we were able to communicate. However, I do remember that in one shop I was looking for some tea and the lady kept asking if I wanted coffee. I know very well that I was asking properly. Perhaps she just couldn't imagine anyone not wanting coffee.

It was in Barcelona that I caught a plane to London so that I could catch my return flight home. I must say that I was a little disappointed that I couldn't spend more time in Barcelona, as it was absolutely beautiful and so intriguing. When I did get into the city, I quickly went to the airport, got a flight, checked in my bags, and then buggered off back into the city for what little bit of sight-seeing I could squeeze in. This turned out to be a 90-minute whirlwind of a retail therapy shopping spree (ahem.... global economic stimulation trip) in the shops surrounding the Plaza del Catalunya.

It was FABULOUS. Beautiful people, beautiful architecture, wonderful foods to sample. It was grand. As I was finishing up my spree and heading back to catch the bus back to the airport I saw it. Something I hadn't seen before, and I really have no idea how I missed it. H&M. In Barcelona. "Do I have time squeeze in ONE more shop?" I was thinking to myself. "It is H&M. In Barcelona. When will you get this chance again?"

I darted in... ran up three flights of stairs (completely ignoring the pain in my left ankle from falling into the ditch two days prior) and started shopping frenetically. In and out in a total of 15 minutes. I simply saw cute things, checked the size, and grabbed. "Hey, if they don't fit me, I have lots of friends that I can gift these to!" (Umm... they all pretty much fit. So I'm good)

As I was almost speed-walking across the plaza to the bus stop (I saw the bus rounding one corner of the plaza as soon as I stepped out of H&M) this cute Spaniard and I make eye contact as we're walking toward one another. We hold eye contact. He smiles. I smile. We turn our heads to maintain eye contact as we pass one another. After a couple of steps I stop and turn around. He has done the same, then cocks his head to one side, and deepens his smile. I look at him. I turn and look over my shoulder to see my bus arriving. I look back at him, shrug my shoulders, and tap my fingers on my wrist to say, "I have no time." He nods, continues to smile, and we turn away from one another.

I catch my bus, catch my flight, and head back to London to catch my flight home the next day.

More mature ramblings...

So yeah, it's been a while. I've been busier with work than I think I ever have been before. How am I handling the long hours at work and the constant low-level of stress? Well, a nice dose of mature web-surfing, of course.

awkwardboners.com/2009/04/team-boner/

What can I say? Y'all know I am a bastion of maturity.

New boyfriend

Well, it was just a matter of time, really. Things change as time goes by, and in this area of life of my life, there is no exception. It looks like I have a new boyfriend. And to be honest, it looks like Brit Boy does too. Actually, it looks like we've been adopted as such by the same guy.

We recently ventured up to Dallas to go to a show of some electronic music that Brit Boy was really excited about seeing. Psy-Trance or something like that. So, up we went with Silly Girl and her boy to see a show. Now, while the show turned out to be frequently mostly by candy-ravers, in all their glory with pacifiers, glow sticks, and dust masks filled with Vick's Vap-o-rub, it was actually a really good show. I even danced. Quite a bit, actually. Brit Boy commented that he's never seen me dance that much. Not even when we're at Burning Man, which is normally the only time I'll allow myself to dance in the U.S. Cuz, as I've said previously, the music here pretty much sucks.

N-E-way... somewhere along the way we met up with Davie**, an 18 year-old kid from a small town just outside of Dallas. At first he was looking for directions to the club where the show was being held. Then, after I had txt'd him to make sure he found the place (I am a nice guy, FYI), we kept running into one another. He was always rather insistent that we "hang" with him for a while. It was all fine... the four of us were having a grand time, but didn't really know anyone else at the show.

Then, he realized that Brit Boy and I are a gay couple.

"Whoa, Cary and Brit Boy are gay?!?! Really?" I heard him exclaim at one point. "But they're so cool!"

Apparently Davie was a bit of a homophobe. He even admitted as much to me. "Cary, you're so cool. I mean, I've always been a total homophobe, but you and Brit Boy are like the coolest people I know." (Sidenote: Well, yes. We are.)

Such discussions continued for most of the evening. Davie was continually amazed at Brit Boy and me. How non-threatening we were. How much fun we were to be around. At the end of the evening, he didn't want for us to go. It was so cute. Like we had found a lost puppy that didn't want to go back to its owner.

The next morning, he started texting that he missed us already. It was so cute. He has even called me up to invite us to another show in Dallas over New Year's Eve, and offered to split the cost of gas for us to drive up from Austin. To say he was disappointed that we had plans to be in San Francisco, CA, over NYE is an understatement. Again... so cute.

So it looks like Brit Boy and I have a new boyfriend. He's ever so nice? Can we keep him? I'll just tuck him away in my pocket.

How long has it been?

My office is getting new printers today. As such, a swarm of computer people descended upon us a short time ago, moving in concert, shouting strings of numbers and letters to each other. As I have found is always the case, there is one really handsome man mixed in with the rest of the "depths of the basement IT people."

At first I paid no attention to the commotion around me. I donned my headphones and fell into a Cure coma, only to be brought back to reality by an almost imperceptible tap on my left shoulder. I spun around, anticipating my gaze to fall upon a person who has not seen the light of day, nor a shower, for several days, if not weeks. 

I made an uncontrollable doubletake as my eyes fell upon a well-groomed, well-dressed 6'1" man with dark hair and green, piercing eyes. "I need to install something real quick on your computer," he said. I knew it was just code for something else.

"Uhhh.... sure...  no problem..." I stammered, and rose from my chair. He maintained eye contact for just a second too long, and suddenly I knew it wasn't just thoughts of peripherals and USB ports running through his mind.  Or at least not the ones you buy at Radio Shack.

Within 15 seconds, he'd moved on to my officemate, but I knew he was still thinking of me. As I hear the computer team packing things up, getting ready to move to the next office in the building, I know he'll be back. He's just playing hard to get.

Damn... has it been that long since I've gotten laid?

Stars Shining Bright Above You

It happened so quickly that at first I wasn't sure that it was real. He was in front of me, talking about the evening's class, and he just leaned in for a kiss.

"Thank you," he said. "I've really missed coming to your class. It's good to be grounded again" 

I was shocked. I blinked my eyes repeatedly as my mouth just sort of hung open in disbelief. 

"N-n-no-n-n-n-n-no-n-no," I stammered like a character from The Vicar of Dibley. It was just a peck, but he lingered just long enough for me to realize that he wanted to break that tension that existed between us. The tension that had existed between us for so long.

"I can't," I finally forced out. "You're a student in my class. That's an ethical boundary I have to respect. It's fairly well understood in yogic circles that teachers..." I rambled on. He said he understood. His body language told me he was lying.  His shoulders were slouched and the sparkle in his eyes had dimmed.  The post-yoga glow that had surrounded him had begun to fade.  I grabbed two teas as we exited the studio and asked about his recent adventures and escapades.

We sat on a bench outside and chatted, discussing his recent travels. His statements seemed strained and forced. He seemed tense, like he was unsure about what to do, what to say. And then, just as quickly as before, he did it again.  I didn't stop him.  The kiss deepened as he touched my arm, causing goose-bumps to rise on my flesh. The tension that had existed between us for so many months just broke. There was such an overflow of energy that consumed the two of us, sitting on that park bench, that I felt light-headed.  I felt like I couldn't hold the kiss any longer, but I was afraid of what would happen if I was the one to break it.

A large crack of thunder brought me out of my daze. The kiss was broken. It was raining. Hard. I opened my eyes, and my pillow was wet.

Dancing with Red Shirt

Location: Ellysium - 80s Night
Time: 1:00am
Music: Michael Jackson - Thriller

I'm on the dancefloor (yes, shock that it is) attempting to do my best "Thriller" moves, but the dancefloor is so crowded I can't really get in any convincing zombie dance moves.  (Sidenote:  I can do some great Thriller dance moves.  My eldest brother made me learn the moves with him when the video first came out.)  Red Shirt (some new guy I'm seeing) is outdoing me greatly.

We exit the danefloor shortly after the song ends and make our way to some new friends hanging out by the air conditioner.  I swear, I would have thought hanging out by the cool breezes of the air conditioner would be more popular, but the area in front of it was always vacant everytime I left the dancefloor.  We chat for a few minutes, and the he turns to me.

"I think I'm done with the 80s for tonight.  You ready to go?"  "Sure," I respond, and we make our way outside.  We're rather touchy-feely as we're walking back to his car.  My legs are killing me (workout the day before, running earlier today, moderate time on the dancefloor tonight), and he decides to help me up the hill by letting me lean on him.  He's got a tight and strong body, even if he is only 5'9" in height.  "Why am I being so touchy tonight," I begin to ask myself.  "I'm not really sure how I feel about him...  I don't want to be dishonest and misleading..."

We arrive at his car, and he leans against it, holding my hand and drawing me to him.  I lean in for the kiss as he places his hands on my torso, caressingly.  He draws me in closer, and I continue to wonder if I'm being dishonest.  I'm not sure this is something I can do.  I'm not sure he's the person I want do it with, even if I can.  

Eventually, the kiss is broken and he asks the question I knew was coming.  "What happens now?"

"What happens now is that I go home.  It's late." 

"And where am I going," he responds as he smiles.  I see the glint in his eyes, and the slight tilt of his head is not lost on me.

*sigh* "You're going to your house.  It's late.  And I'm tired."  I chickened out.  Why couldn't I tell him the truth.  That it's gonna take me some time before anything like that happens, if at all?

He seems ok with my statement, though.  He inquires about doing something the next day, as I have the day off from work.  I agree to some tentative outdoor plans, and we separate, getting into our respective cars.  I watch him as he drives away, wondering.  Is there no real spark?  Or am I unable to perceive it if it is, in fact, there.

Did I just say that?

"Dude, you're fucking hot.  But...  I don't hook-up."

Those words were uttered by me.  Yes, me.

Ok...  stop laughing.  Really.

True, he was a little aggressive in trying to get at my goods, but that wasn't the only reason why I turned him down.  Let me run through the numbers.

1)  Hot.  Dude was fucking *smoking*

2)  Out-of-towner.  Always a good thing.  There's no real "call me later" thing going on.

3)  Very aggressive.  As in, "dude, you're really hot.  Do you live nearby?  I'd really like to see your place."  Oh come on now...  can't you be just a little smoother?

4)  Bad kisser.  The kiss kinda surprised me.  We were getting up to head inside from the patio, and he leaned in as I was standing.  Perhaps it was the angle.  Perhaps I never let him get into his groove.  Whatever the reason, it was not a good experience.

5)  But the main reason is that I'm batting this quaint little notion running around in my head.  Not having sex unless I'm in an exclusive arrangement.

Tonight I was talking to Jellybean, and I mentioned #5 to him.  "What?!?!" was his response.  "What in the hell are you thinking?"

"Yeah, I'm not exactly sure, but it's just something I'm thinking about these days."

And that's it.  It's just something I'm thinking about these days.  Not sure that it'll last, but it's something that is very interesting to me.

Pictures of a different nature

I was paid a surprise visit by a couple of Corpus Christi boys last weekend.  Just finishing classes for the semester, they decided to travel around Texas visiting friends.  Little did they know that I was so busy with work that I hardly had any time to visit.  I ended up meeting up with them when I left the office around 1:00am or so and had a couple of drinks before going home to pass out.

Saturday night was a little different.  Work actually slowed up a little so I was able to head to a party with Bartender Boy and have a generally good time before heading home to chat with the boys once they got home from yet another night on the town.  (Note:  A better name has been thought up for Bartender Boy.  He shall now be referred to as Shot Guy, as it was such a short, yet potent, affair).  So, Shot Guy and I head to bed and he quickly falls asleep.  He has this *uncanny* ability to pass out within minutes of his head touching the pillow.  No matter.  I can't sleep.  So I head to the living room to watch some tv and there's one of the Corpus boys on my laptop.  I assume he's just checking his e'mail or surfing or something.

"Hey man, can't sleep?" I ask.  He quickly and nervously closes my laptop and moves towards the guest room.

"Uh... just looking at some pictures.  Goodnight."  And he hurriedly leaves the room.  I'm intrigued.  I turn on the tv, head to BBC Worldnews, and grab my laptop to see exactly what pics he was viewing.  

The screen comes to life.  iPhoto is open.  And filling almost the entire screen is a pic of me taken during a certain desert yoga photo shoot .  I smile and laugh.