Years ago, I met a guy at a
wake who made my heart flutter. He is
related to the dead person, so he served food and drinks to guests. Of course, I and my gay friends chatted with
him. He is dark and handsome but quite
short (he is not taller than I, and I am by no means tall). I got his number. Why would I let the chance go? It was – still is – rare for my heart to be
affected more than my loins.
I later learned his residence
was not far from mine. Since then, I
would notice him – I never did before – when he walked along the street. We texted.
I asked him for a date. His
response was not cold but not very promising.
He was afraid to date another guy, apparently. People tend to think I am banging the guy I am
with at the moment, so I guess he avoided that reputation.
During those times I saw him
walking (alone or with company), he would give me lingering looks. A glance that takes too long is not a
glance. That is a stare. I had wondered if he wanted my wit, my body
or my money. I am poor so it had to be
my body.
Nevertheless, I am not
getting any younger so I had to finish things quickly and tactfully. So, I texted him for the last time. The text went like this:
At my age, I have learned to
be direct with men I like. If I wanted
to have sex, just sex and nothing else, I would have told you upfront. But, I was enamored beyond even my own
expectation. That night at the wake, I
saw you smile for the first time and the spell was cast. You can not seem to decide if you will go out
with me. Let us not go out anymore. You are not ready, apparently. Maybe someday you will find comfort in your
own desires. Desiring your kind is
something you will learn to embrace one day.
I hope. We shall talk about it
over coffee when the time comes. I am
just here. Take care.
===
Originally posted in my high
school Facebook page, early this year, in a slightly different form.
