Actually real.
My nibble at FindFred turned into an interested tug.
To begin, his pictures were cleared by the Admins.
They were nice. Blond, curly-headed moustached guy with blonde eyebrows, and a smile that looks like he's up to something. He's thinnish, but has some shape to him. He takes pics of himself in the gym, at the beach, out on vacation. He's just hit his fifties but doesn't look a day over 45. His bare chest is fuzzy with coppery hair. No tattoos. And he's my height.
So I responded to his "Where in Manhattan do you live?" with a
"Why, have you seen me around? ;-)"
to which he has responded;
"No, but I'd like to."
Now. This means a few things.
1) He knows I'm a black dude.
2) He's attracted to me.
3) He wants to do stuff with me.
4) He will accept my interest in him.
And I'm sitting here thinking how much I want to do this. How my heart is speeded up right now thinking about how this could go down. I look again at his pictures and I'm thinking he looks better and better. Rugged-like. Right now, he looks like the best thing in the world.
He looks like hope. Like, yeah, he's someone who could like me the way I want to be liked. And he's someone I could like the way I've always wanted to.
I think of all the boyfriends of my girlfriends, and how I'd look at them and get this little heartspeed thing going. Wishing that I could see a little more of them--and then going to Gym and getting that wish fulfilled in the lockerroom, only to know that they'd beat the living shit out of me they knew how I felt. I think of how much I hated wanting what I wanted, and how locked-in I was. I remember how I'd quickly run away from it and try doing life the expected, "normal" way. Yeah. Ran all the way to church and hid under Jesus' skirt.
But 30 years later, here I still am. I traded the hem of Jesus' garment for the internet. I hide behind my side of the screen. I watch and I do not do.
And now I'm standing on the precipice of something real. Maybe. Something to change the way I live the rest of my life. Now I am entering into a flirtation with a man who actually knows I'm flirting, and is flirting back.
Stop.
I've never done this before. I've flirted with straight guys. I've been entertained by those who most likely think I'm playing bantery games with their masculinity. But I've never done this with someone ready to take it somewhere.
And I am really thrilled right now.
Breathe.
Breathe.
Yeah.
So.
Wow.
Okay.
Okay.
I'm going to talk to him. I'm going to find out more about him, I hope. I may just meet him. I might just kiss him. Perhaps I'll [censored] him. Or maybe I'll get to hug him.
You know what?
I would like to hug him.
Hug him for just being there and talking to me. For calling me handsome, and meaning it the way I want someone to mean it. The way I've always wanted a man to mean it.
Yeah, for right now. That's what I want. That would be just amazing.
7 comments:
So excited for you!!! And proud. 'Cause I know it ain't easy. Keep us posted.
So go out - you don't have to do anything. Go out and be out and be with this guy and let him know that you're a nice guy and if it heads towards even a kiss, let him know that you're new to this, and see what happens.
Be honest with yourself and with him, and don't listen to any voices in your head - listen to your body. Listen to your heart. Have fun.
Grizz; Here's what's new. He gave me his e-mail because he doesn't go to that site often. And I just fired off an e-mail to him, opening up the flow of communications. And my heart is pounding right now like it's about to jump outta my chest. And I have a client in a half an hour that I'd better pull my isht together for.
Ned; What if the voice(s) in my head is God saying "Boy, you goin' ta Hell for this behavior. Better stop now!"
(edit; Entered a paragraph break)
Yeah. What if. I couldn't stop if I wanted to. Oh, please understand me, God. I'm not trying to offend You or mock the design of the body You made for me. I tried it the traditional, biologically appropriate way. You were there when I got engaged, and you were there when I went out to Bible School for a vacation, knowing all the way there and all the way back that I was going to break that engagement off out of absolute terror. You were there when I had a girlfriend all alone with me in my apartment--no roommates, no nothing but time and opportunity. How I had just come from the gym and how she waited while I showered, and how I came out of the bathroom barefoot and how the opportunity was ripe for any "red-blooded American boy" to get his freak on ... and we did nothing but talk. You know what I am. What I've always been. Whether You did it, or whether Satan did it, or whether it just happened, you know? Like things happen. Like Katrina happened, and the plane over Lockerbie, Scotland happened, and the World Trade Center happened. Whether someone is responsible or if No One is responsible ... we have to live with the results. And this is me. Living with the results. And I hope You can still love me, please, God, because hey. I love You. I love the principle of Love, and empathy for my Fellow Human, and I see joy and beauty in every soul--just like You taught me. Your message is worth living. It's what will save us as a race--Love.
And that's where I'm trying to go here. I'm trying to love somebody who could be special in "that" way. This is something I've never done before, and God, Grizz and Ned are busy. They love me, I know, and I so, so love them too. But they have lives they need to live, and their own love they need to cultivate and grow. Which is. So. Awesome to see. We've all come such a long way.
So please, God. A little help? For all of us?
Okay?
Well this is turning out to be pretty nice!
We're trading e-mails and just conversating like a house afire! I let him into my professional world because at some point, I have to trust this guy. And at some other point, I have to be uncloseted. And he reciprocated, so now I'm finding out all sorts of fascinating stuff about his life and even his family! He's expresses himself well, is articulate, and does have a good sense of humor. And he keeps telling me that I'm handsome! Angela, you understand what I mean? It's just ... different! Sexy!! I dunno, I guess men, gay or straight, are strange. We're just as vain as they say women are. Moreso. But we don't want to admit it. I still maintain that every man can recognize other good looking men, and getting paid a compliment for one's looks alone is hugely satisfying.
He's ready to start phoning, and I'm just a 'yes' away! What I want even more is to sit in a coffeeshop with him because my phone skills suck!
Okay, I'm going to call him now. First time.
Didn't answer and I had to leave a message. Which I'm even worse at than actual phone conversation.
Aint life grand?
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