“Oh Here I Go, Don’t Let Me Go”

Today is a day of many emotions.

Well really, yesterday was the day with all the emotions, but today is the resolution of those emotions.

The story actually begins two nights ago. I was hanging out at home and got a message from a guy on Grindr who I’d seen around and thought was pretty cute. I’d actually messaged him before but never got a response. He messaged back to say he was sorry for not responding, which I suspect had less to do with him not seeing my previous message and a lot more to do with my profile picture changing to a much cuter picture of me with a new haircut. Which is fine, no shame on him.

All I really knew about him was that he was cute, he had “f-holes” tattooed on his arms, which if you didn’t know (because I didn’t) are those holes on the sides of a violin that the sound comes out of, and that he played oboe and bassoon. Naturally I was interested. I’m going to give a quick little content warning here because we’re going to get into the details of what happened, which range from explicitly sexual to upsettingly emotional.

I came to meet him. He lived in a very nice apartment with a roommate, and when I met him I noticed two things about him. The first is that he’s shorter than me, which I found pretty adorable, and that he was even cuter than his pictures had led me to believe. The second was that he spoke in an eloquent voice and had no trace of a southern accent. This reminded me a lot of myself, because I also don’t speak with a southern accent and people are often surprised to learn that I’m from the south. My family all have accents, I just don’t. I had one as a kid, it went away on it’s own as I grew up. It sounds condescending, but honestly the more I learned to read and write, the less I spoke with a southern accent. I’m not saying there’s a correlation there, but you are free to postulate your own conclusions.

We went upstairs to his room and had some white wine. We chatted about music, about our past relationships, about being gay in the south. We found out that we went to the same high school, he started the year after I graduated. We both have prematurely grey hair and as it happens we had the exact same haircut. I was a vers top and he was a vers bottom. I’m submissive in relationships but dominant in bed, he’s dominant in relationships but submissive in bed. When we finally kissed, we were both pleasantly surprised at the chemistry we had. Sometimes you have a lot in common but no sexual chemistry. This wasn’t an issue for us. He had recently had a Prince Albert piercing so I was careful to be gentle with his cock and to lick it rather than suck it. We got off together and then spent the rest of the night cuddling close. He fit so perfectly in my arms, and he liked to kiss and be affectionate as much as I did. When he held me he’d plant little kisses on my forehead for no reason which is essentially a quick way to make me fall in love with you.

He invited me to stay the night if I wanted to, and I took him up on the offer. We stayed up all night discussing Final Fantasy, which we discovered we have a mutual interest in. We talked about wanting to create video games: I’m an ideas guy, he’s a coding and building guy. We didn’t get much sleep, but he told me that getting him off twice in one night was a feat few had accomplished and naturally I felt pretty proud of myself. When I told him I was a little self-conscious about my chubby body he assured me he found me very attractive. The next morning he woke up for work, but he works from home and he told me I was welcome to stay over and hang out while he worked. I said I wished I had thought to bring my computer, and he said I was welcome to go get it and come back, which I did.

Well… I guess it shouldn’t be hard to guess what was going on with me. I fell head over heels for this guy. And that’s honestly not something that happens a lot. Even on a hookup where I find a guy interesting, I tend to just hope for the best and go on with my life. But… something about him just felt like “This is it. This is the guy.” I had made the decision a few days ago that I was ready to start looking for a partner, and here is this guy who seems to fit every criterion I’d want in a partner. Now, there were some conflicts. For one thing, he identifies as Christian, although he doesn’t like organized religion, and I don’t begrudge him his beliefs. In fact I confessed that I still pray a lot, even though (and he doesn’t really know this about me) being anti-Christian is a hue part of my identity. He also prefers to be monogamous and has had a bad experience with polyamory, and that’s totally fair. I told him I might be willing to try monogamy if the right guy came along. These two things were definitely red flags for me, not that there was anything wrong with him in particular, but that we might have some conflicts in what we were looking for, but I overlooked them.

I don’t really know what got into me. I think it’s that someone finally showed me love and affection, for the first time since Jake left. We slept so little so he took a nap with me in the afternoon on his lunch hour, and he slept on my chest. We were laying there naked, and he was breathing gently while I held him with my right arm, and I felt so content, so complete. When we kissed it was gentle and simple and I loved the way he tasted and the way his breath smelled. Our legs intertwined when we faced each other and he touched my body in ways I wanted to be touched, not just sexually but gently running fingers along my back. I kept stroking his face and admiring how beautiful he was. During the night we spent together, I looked up at him while I laid on his chest and I could see his face in the moonlight and I was shocked at how much I could forget how beautiful he was when I looked away. Every time I saw him it was like seeing him for the first time.

Within one day, this guy had become my whole world. I wrote three poems about him while I was driving. I was listening to Hounds Of Love by Kate Bush and I finally got the song, about running away from love and it finding you and hunting you down, and being ready to accept love. I felt conflict about the things we differ on, and the fact that I didn’t know him that well yet, but I just had a great feeling about him. He told me up front that he isn’t sure what he wants right now, he isn’t sure he’s looking for a relationship, he’s just letting things happen on their own, and that’s fair.

When I got home, I was still swimming. But I’d sent him a simple text message and he hadn’t responded. I was a bit disheartened. I sent him another a couple of hours later and didn’t hear back from him. I started to have a sinking feeling that I wasn’t allowing myself to accept. I laid in bed thinking about him, crying and shivering. I talked to some friends who tried to help me calm down. I took one of my anxiety pills and finally felt tired enough to go to sleep soon. I lay there thinking about him, missing him, wanting him, feeling deprived of him being away from him. My heart was there in his hands and it had happened so unexpectedly. I don’t usually do this, I don’t fall for someone so quickly. I was thinking about silly love songs and making a future and all those ridiculous things you should not be thinking on a first date, or even worse, a hookup, even a hookup where the guy invites you to come back over after you go fetch your laptop.

At the door, we had a slow, long kiss. It was gentle and wonderful. I told him I hoped I’d get to hang out with him again some time, and he said he thinks that’s a good possibility. I told him to text me when he got home later that night after rehearsal so I’d know he was home safe. Upon later reflection that might have been a bit much, but then, everything about me was a bit much that day.

I woke up this morning. He did not text me back.

I don’t know if he’s ghosting me, or if he needs space, or even if he’s just been legitimately busy. But I thank whatever gods I don’t necessarily really believe in that I woke up feeling better. My head is back together. Yesterday his attention and affection cracked my silly little broken heart open and I was bleeding all over the floor and nothing was going to make it better. Today I had healed a little, and was feeling whole again. I admit to a feeling of disappointment, along with another feeling of relief. It was a lot of emotion to process so quickly. It isn’t healthy to get so attached so quickly. I don’t know if it was because of anything he did or if it was because of where I am: recovering from a string of emotionless hookups and deciding to start looking for someone I can build a relationship with. And he’s not in the best place either: he’s recovering from an upsetting breakup with a guy who mistreated him. Neither of us are our best selves right now.

We both needed someone to cuddle, to kiss, to feel safe with. And he gave me that. I am very grateful that happened. I sent him one final text (or rather, a series of short texts) apologizing for being so clingy yesterday, and that I understand he isn’t sure where he’s at right now and neither am I, and that I hope to talk to him again sometime. I don’t know if he will respond. It’s okay if he doesn’t. I’ve accepted that.

Yesterday was difficult. Terribly, terribly difficult. Part of it was that I’d had almost no sleep and I was extra vulnerable. Part of it was that I so rarely find someone who gives me what I truly need, which is tender affection and a feeling of security. Part of it was that he was so attractive and we just SEEMED to be so perfect for one another, even despite a couple of important differences. In the light of this morning, I see that I was looking past things that could be problems in the hopes that I might have found someone to fall in love. I was emotionally desperate for someone to love, but that isn’t exactly the healthiest way to get into a relationship.

Today I’m going back to work to do some more computer training, and back to real life I guess. But I have wonderful memories of yesterday and the night before, and I have this blog post where I wrote it all down. If I hadn’t have written it today the feelings would have been lost. And I have the poetry. I’m going to post the three that I wrote yesterday right after this post, but here are some that I wrote this morning.



He found all the right strings and pulled them


And even if you disappear you gave me something beautiful
Thank you for reminding me my heart is still capable
For healing me and kissing all the places I was hurting
You gave me a brief respite from pain, and I’ll always treasure that
You made me feel beautiful again


Currently listening to…
Hounds of Love – Kate Bush, Hounds of Love

Rain: A Romantic Short

The window was cracked just a bit, and I could hear the rain falling from the sky, that steady safe woosh of an endless shower of water, falling and falling from the sky, soaking the ground and the grass and the pavement. Water that falls and seeps into everything and finds it’s mark and nourishes.

It was a gray day. I couldn’t remember what time it ought to be, though it was probably the afternoon.

We were all alone. We would be for a few more days. The blinds were raised to show the view of Henry’s back yard, a lush green valley of grass that needed mowing, and in the distance at the bottom of the hill were the trees that led into an expansive forest. Their property extended somewhere into the woods. Usually we’d be out there, even in this rain, soaking wet, up against the wet bark of a tree. But we didn’t mind.

I could smell the rain in the air. It smelled like home, like something safe. The gray light cast down to the boy who lay in my arms. My eyes washed over him, drinking in the sight of his soft, white skin. He’d always been somewhat pale, but right now his whole body was flushed pink. His arms were pulled close and his hands rested on my chest, his fingers making slight movements against my naked chest that sent shivers through my body.

His eyes were closed, his moppy dark brown hair obscured most of his face. It was still damp from sweat. Beneath the covers, our naked legs were intertwined, and my still sticky cock was pressed against his thighs. His member was hiding somewhere, because he was curling up slightly and facing toward me.

I brushed a strand of dark hair away from his face. He took a staggering deep breath that told me he was falling asleep. I pulled him closer and felt his heart beating in his neck and his back, still thumping a little harder than normal. A few minutes ago we’d come together and collapsed, and I had pulled the blankets above us to fight the oncoming chill of the cool afternoon air.

No one would be home for several days. We were all alone. This was our time. We were lucky to have it. We’d been in love for years. Our parents thought we were just friends. We couldn’t tell them the truth, or anyone else. Not even our friends new. Though we both knew they suspected it and we didn’t deny it.

Sometimes we met up underneath an old abandoned bridge in the woods. Sometimes in the dense forest behind Henry’s house. And sometimes, when there was a blessed hour or two when no one was around, we could pull our clothes off, breathing quickly, hearts thumping, and fall into Henry’s soft queen size bed, and we would roll and giggle and kiss and bite and embrace and thrust and pull and we would make mistakes and accidentally hurt each other, and our bodies would awkwardly clap together and make silly noises, and sometimes there was a mess and sometimes there were unpleasant smells and sometimes one of us would have a runny nose and it would get on the other. Being in love is a messy business. Being human is messy. Touching is messy.

We didn’t mind. We treasured everything. Every moment and every touch, every taste and smell. He was the only person I’d ever loved, and I never wanted to love anyone else. The world was empty but for Henry and his moppy hair and his shorter height than mine, and his adorable round butt that made me instantly hard every time I saw it, and the way he laughed at stupid things in movies that made me roll my eyes, and the way I could feel him harden in his pants when I gave him even the most gentle kiss. The way his bright blue eyes would look up at me, because he was always lower than me, when we stood he was lower, and when we were in bed I held him against my chest. It’s strange that it was my arms around him that made me feel so safe.

When his head was laying against my chest, with his soft, wet breath against my skin, I was more than one body, his entire being was an extension of mine, with his own individual thoughts but we shared one beating heart that led us to come together again and again, our mouths sloppy and wet, our cocks throbbing with the intense beating of our hearts, our heads swimming and hot with something that couldn’t be expressed out loud, the whimpers that passed between our lips and the gentle moans and the loud gasps of pleasure only hinted at something so large that it filled up our chests and when we burst, bloody and warm, all over each other, we just kept growing until we filled the room and I think we might fill the whole world.

With my outer hand I explored the familiar contours of his body. The gentle down of hair against his butt, which he hated but which I thought was incredibly sexy. My fingers passed through those hairs that were so light they were almost blonde, perfectly splayed along the cheeks of his butt. My finger found it’s way between them into the warm crevice that seemed to beat with his heart for just a moment against my fingertip. He was nearly asleep but he noticed, and he squirmed gently, but it was a happy gesture. He was exhausted, but I knew that if I pushed my fingertip further, he would want more. I ran my fingertip up along the crevice between his cheeks and then my nails gave a gentle tickling scratch up his back to his shoulder, and he breathed the tiniest sigh of relief. I wanted him to have this reprieve, I knew that in an hour or so we’d be at it again.

But in this moment, with the lingering smell of our bodies and our sweat and our fluids still sticky and drying against me and inside of him, we were safe, and we were whole, and it was quiet. My head was swimming and I found myself getting sleepy too, but I kept my eyes open, and watched the rain outside the window.

This moment might come again and again in our lives. We might have a million of these moments. But this one would never be replaced, and none afterward would be the same. When we were older, we’d both look back on this moment and yearn for it, even if we still have the happiest of moments then, this one will never come again. This one is perfect.

I am more perfectly alive than any other person in the world. Anyone who yearns and tries and searches, it is this that they are searching for. It is this moment in the rain, with Henry pressed against me, and the utter safety of knowing that I don’t have to get out of bed if I don’t want to, and I don’t have to let him go.

I place a finger, the same one that was just giving his entrance a gentle prod, beneath his chin and with the slightest pressure I raise his face up, and his lips form the slightest of smiles. I lean down and my lips reach forward and find their home upon his, and his lower lip is in my mouth and I suck it gently, and a soft and gentle groaning for more comes from him chest and his throat, vibrating against my mouth. He wants more. He’s insatiable. I love him so much.

I kiss his closed eyes, my lips touching those soft eyelids, and his lashes flutter just a little from the surprise, but he’s smiling again. He opens those eyes and they look into mine, and they are blue and crystal and bright and full of everything I am, and he leans up to give me a kiss himself, one a little rougher than mine, his lips pressing hard against mine, and now my eyes are closed, and my pelvis instinctively thrusts forward as my cock begins lazily thickening, and finds its tip pressed against his erection. He lays his head against my chest again and his eyes are closed, and as I glance at his face I place a kiss on his temple.

Everything is worth this. Any pain is worth this. As long as I have this, I can be anything. As long as Henry is pressed against my chest and his lithe body is squirming in my arms, readying itself for more of our passionate and emotional connection, as long as I have the heat of his body to protect me from the sweet chill of the rain outside, I am alive. He is everything in my heart, and the world is a bright landscape upon which he walks, and his destination will always be in my arms, where I need him to be, where I can have safety and shelter. He is rain and forests and beds and moments.

His voice is a soft, crackling whisper, saying that he loves me. My vision becomes blurry. He’ll notice in a moment and ask me why I’m crying. But for a fraction of a moment, this is my reality, forever and ever, and I am so happy that I can’t express it, but my body is trying anyway, with my hard cock and my salty tears and my expectant lips when they come close to his.

And there is no world, no home, no life, but for this feeling, and even though in a few moments it will subside, and transform, and become something different, it’s here. And this is enough. This is enough.