Monday, April 12, 2004
Lent still
I was with a Black man last Friday night, Adrian. He's 49, American, travels a lot which, he says is the reason why he never married. He does have sons, grown men. He'svery decent, well-educated -- and cold. He was not interested in making friends, although he was very civil. He has a well preserved body, better than Tom's. I like Tom better. He's warm and a friend, more than a fucking buddy. Adrian's just horny. And not very gallant.
He did order coffee and something to eat when I arrived at his hotel. And he did meet me at the lobby -- at my request. I didn't want to be mistaken for a prostitute. Of course, I don't look like one but they tend to do that around here, think a woman a prostitute because she shows up alone in a hotel lobby. Adrian walked me down to the lobby, offered to pay my parking ticket which I, of course, refused, and announced, as he bussed me on the cheek goodbye, that he was heading for the dining room for a bit of dinner.
Total turn-off. But he did convince me of the benefits of an all-protein diet. So that's where I am right now. Thanks to the advice of a stranger.
I asked him if I should use Afro-American, if the word, black, in reference to him offended him. He said he himself uses the word, black, so it shouldn't be a problem. I've never been with a black guy before. He was a good-looking man, tall and well-built. He didn't have an extraordinarily large cock but it was long and hard. Very nice. But that's all. I don't think he'll be calling again, but if he does, I don't think I'll be available.
Tom called earlier, an hour ago. Just to say hi. He's left off-line messages for me on the messenger. He is so sweet. I was trying to be warmer and chattier but I couldn't. I guess it's because there's nothing much to say, as there's nothing going on between us, anyway. And I suppose it's because I was so overwhelmed. I dunno. I'm so pathetic. Maybe it's me who's holding back.
I'm seeing my Dale tomorrow evening. But before then, there's this American guy who wants to have lunch with me. Can't hurt. It's just lunch.
I miss my irrascible Terry and his scruffiness. He's like an old teddy bear that's lost patches of its fur, bitter and angry at being an old thing, yet loathe to give up its solitary existence with no one to answer to. He's a contradiction in terms, and he has the nerve to call me full of contradictions. My dear friend, Terry. Interesting intersection of a Scorpionic dimension. Blame in on the stars and the alignment of planets. He mirrors me back.
He's building a house somewhere in the islands. For self-imposed solitary confinement, as it's in a place not so accessible to just anyone, and yet, he has drawn up plans for guest rooms and a jacuzzi. He intends to have a Hummer built in a Volkswagen chassis, with a Volkswagen engine. He says it can be done and has the pictures (downloaded from the net) to prove it. He travels all over Asia, saying he likes to keep moving, and yet he builds a house for no reason, not even for retirement. Maybe he has a secret agenda, kept from everyone, even himself. I think I understand. There are no contradictions, really. Just a knowing eventuality.
He did order coffee and something to eat when I arrived at his hotel. And he did meet me at the lobby -- at my request. I didn't want to be mistaken for a prostitute. Of course, I don't look like one but they tend to do that around here, think a woman a prostitute because she shows up alone in a hotel lobby. Adrian walked me down to the lobby, offered to pay my parking ticket which I, of course, refused, and announced, as he bussed me on the cheek goodbye, that he was heading for the dining room for a bit of dinner.
Total turn-off. But he did convince me of the benefits of an all-protein diet. So that's where I am right now. Thanks to the advice of a stranger.
I asked him if I should use Afro-American, if the word, black, in reference to him offended him. He said he himself uses the word, black, so it shouldn't be a problem. I've never been with a black guy before. He was a good-looking man, tall and well-built. He didn't have an extraordinarily large cock but it was long and hard. Very nice. But that's all. I don't think he'll be calling again, but if he does, I don't think I'll be available.
Tom called earlier, an hour ago. Just to say hi. He's left off-line messages for me on the messenger. He is so sweet. I was trying to be warmer and chattier but I couldn't. I guess it's because there's nothing much to say, as there's nothing going on between us, anyway. And I suppose it's because I was so overwhelmed. I dunno. I'm so pathetic. Maybe it's me who's holding back.
I'm seeing my Dale tomorrow evening. But before then, there's this American guy who wants to have lunch with me. Can't hurt. It's just lunch.
I miss my irrascible Terry and his scruffiness. He's like an old teddy bear that's lost patches of its fur, bitter and angry at being an old thing, yet loathe to give up its solitary existence with no one to answer to. He's a contradiction in terms, and he has the nerve to call me full of contradictions. My dear friend, Terry. Interesting intersection of a Scorpionic dimension. Blame in on the stars and the alignment of planets. He mirrors me back.
He's building a house somewhere in the islands. For self-imposed solitary confinement, as it's in a place not so accessible to just anyone, and yet, he has drawn up plans for guest rooms and a jacuzzi. He intends to have a Hummer built in a Volkswagen chassis, with a Volkswagen engine. He says it can be done and has the pictures (downloaded from the net) to prove it. He travels all over Asia, saying he likes to keep moving, and yet he builds a house for no reason, not even for retirement. Maybe he has a secret agenda, kept from everyone, even himself. I think I understand. There are no contradictions, really. Just a knowing eventuality.
