8:31 a.m. - October 22, 2006
We cuddled and listened to music and talked some about politics and work, then shifted into a more intimate register and talked about coming out, about Life As a Gay Man, finding partners and soulmates. It was more than a little disconcerting to hear this man who I would think has his gay shit together (tight abs, few inhibitions, can dance) talk about how lonely and difficult it is for him to find someone who wants to stick around longer than a couple nights. Shit, if it's hard for him, it's impossible for me.
We talked some about my weak interest in him, that noxious combination of an inability to relax around him, a desire for something a little more intellectually substantial, someone less focused on the gym - or someone whose passion in life is not the gym - whatever it is. He understood and said I am still a good man to cuddle with, and oddly enough I felt relaxed with him. The bottom line is that I'd rather be alone than swim in a shallow pool, but it is easy to say that when there is a beautiful guy cuddled next to you. Now that he's gone I miss his warmth and his laugh, and I am hungry again for more.
I brought up the mismatch, to call it that, between his body type and mine, and the incongruity of it all. He laughed and said I am cute nonetheless and then the deepest thing he's ever shared with me popped out. He said all gay men are fat on the inside but so worried about what other people think that they become slaves to each other's opinions and if they did not have the gym it would be like the Earth losing its gravitational pull, with gay men scattered about unable to connect with each other. I scoffed and said I worry about what other people think and he looked at me and said No, you don't. You really don't. You're genuine. Why do you think I like you so much?
That was a nice thing to say, and a nicer thing to hear.
Off to church.