4:52 p.m. - March 20, 2006
Something she said remains with me: I don't see you being gay, pronounced as if this Berkeley lesbian-in-a-25-year-monogamous-relationship-raising-a-son-ashamed-of-his-mother woman carries with her a crystal ball or is descended from an innumerable line of predecessors who once read tea leaves and palms for a small sum. She went on to explain: You're not selfish enough to last long with the wolves and shortly after we went our own ways. To be so noble and above the fray, or to be more honest and show her my flaws and hidden parts.
A pleasant afternoon spent thinking of Dana and Spec, wishing I had both again, to hold one's hand and later, to have my hand held, to feel secure with one and alive with the other, to love and be loved. While the cards and fortune's wheel suggest I should get used to being single there is in me a bittersweet satisfaction that at least I have some stories of my own to share. But you know what I wish for the most? It's to experience a gay relationship where the happy stories are not overshadowed by the bad ones and however things turn out in the end, to look back with satisfaction and say It was worth it.
Perhaps a sliver of Monday Madness has seeped in for I'm about to share something I keep intensely private, drawn from the files of Never Ever Talk About: Pornography. Of all the porn in the world, gay, straight, bisexual or other, this is what turns me on the most. Inoccuous in most regards but arousing without fail:
The intimacy, the playfulness, the casual comfort of two people sharing the same space. One whispering come play with me and the other wanting to be drawn away from work, saying Just a minute, both knowing exactly what to do. That is what is erotic to me.
Again, that longing for what was but is no longer, eh?