The creme de la creme
A couple of weeks ago a handsome man spent some time chatting me up at Kooky. He disappeared mysteriously, and the next week when I saw him, I got the picture he was involved with the woman berating him, but he came up to me again last Friday and put his arm around me. I resolved to just enjoy it for as long as it lasted, and let go of any hope that it would lead somewhere, as I had been disappointed two weeks in a row by the same guy. I was non-plussed this time, then, when he excused himself, and disappeared.
Then a very beautiful young man caught my eye, or rather, he caught me doing a double take at his breathtaking beauty, and he said that he found chatting with me more interesting than hanging around with his girlfriend upstairs (who was apparently preoccupied with a gaggle of her old friends). After a very long chat he put his arms around me (Oh!) and squeezed me tight, chest to chest, groin to groin. At least for that moment, a beautiful boy found me, as I am, to be sexually attractive. So beautiful! Ah, I may fail to get off, so to speak, but I fail to get off with the best!
He rejoined his girlfriend and her friends as the nightclub was emptied out, and I shared a cab with a boy I've fancied for ages, the straight brother of a gay friend. This boy kisses me as if I was a woman and he was a man who liked women, and I like that a lot. I took advantage of our shared inebriation to climb salaciously over him on the way out of the cab, and was rewarded with a kiss full on the lips.
So, with a more relaxed attitude to getting laid, with a longer view, and regular attendance at places where boys who like girls go, I have more cause to be optimisitic about my chances as a 45 year old eunuch only into very attractive youthful men.
And I am sustained by the company of beautiful young men who surround me, in my home and friendship circle. And I cherish the hugs my housemate occassionally offers me. I love male affention, I need male affection, but it has to be high quality, none of your rough stuff. A whiff of a nice man's bedroom in the morning is more life-giving for me than a half-hearted full-body grope with a distant stranger merely feigning intimacy.
Ah, I may not fill myelf with gruel, but only taste the creme de la creme, as they say in the classics.
And the more open I am to the idea that there are actually attractive young men who find me actually attractive, and the more I let go of fear and old history and square people's ideas about sex, the more close an attractive young man will come to me.
Hey, I'm off to a music festival camping in the hills for New Year where many of those attractive young men will be, so I'll wish you all a happy Hugmany, and may we all have many hugs, and/or hug many, this New Year!