.
I met him in Arlington, Texas, on a sultry, steamy September North Texas night. My belongings were almost completely packed. I was leaving in a few days to move to San Francisco, to resume the career that I had walked away from four short months earlier, in a more prestigious capacity, and at a much higher income level. He was three days from deployment to a new station in the Army, far away from Texas. He was interesting to talk to online and on the telephone. I certainly had no reason to sit at home and pass up a massage trade.
.
He was much taller than your average Texan, and muscular, but very slender and stealthy - a very commanding presence. Proud. Respectful. Open. Non-judgmental. It was very east to be around him. He accepted you completely down to the hair on your little toes. He had the smoothest, most beautiful cocoa brown skin I had ever experienced the pleasure of touching. Fortunately for both of us, he appreciated and adored being massaged as much as I loved to touch him.
.
This was just a couple of months shy of ten years ago, now, but it is difficult to get clear visual images of this event in my mind's eye. This is because I immediately blocked the entire memory as well as I could, knowing that living with the memory would be torturous and haunting. And yet, with all that energy focused on memory suppression, here we are anyway, ten years later, and I'm wondering, "Is he the one that got away?"
.
I know that I was immediately surprised at how calm, cool, and collected, well-dressed, and just all-around sharp he was, even in the most dreadfully humid and hot conditions. These were the nights after the days where the concrete was melting, because it was so hot and humid. And I remember his calves - he had beautiful, silky-smooth calves. I could have held them forever. And a long, curved penis that was otherwise just beautiful, to contrast the perfect straightness of my own. Of course, we both knew before meeting that the situation was what it was, that we were ships passing in the night, most likely never to be seen again, and yet, were interested enough to meet, and I must say, he was a keeper. It was a drag because I think he kinda felt the same way. It was a very strange, almost surreal parting, and it is the last memory that I have before beginning to drive the car across to Los Angeles, and then north to my new home in San Francisco, with the back window painted with shoe polish that proclaimed, "San Francisco or BUST."
.
I would not have minded deciding to never mind the job in San Francisco, and instead following Anthony around the country on his Army destinations. Don't Ask, Don't Tell had become the Law of the Land, and this was not an uncommon occurrence, even before DADT was enacted. But at least I had proven to myself after years of unsuccessful dating attempts that I was *not* the only like-minded person, and that there were others out there who appreciated the kind of intimacy that I enjoy. Constantly touching. I'll spare you the pornographic details (but will talk about it with anyone who asks). God, I even loved licking his belly button. He was just delicious. Having total acceptance of each others' mental processes, thoughts, and feelings.
.
Isolation is not the way it was supposed to be for me. I was supposed to have constant interaction with a like-minded soul whose curiosity, courage, and sensuality allowed us to explore intimacy in many areas. And the physical intimacy was awesome, without shame, without objectification, and was the direct result of our deep connection on another dimension of existence, one where we both loved to be. Only I haven't yet found another Anthony. This was just not supposed to happen.
.
Is it him that I hear calling me, or someone else, far away, knowing that I am here waiting for them, trying to find them? What can I do to increase the resonance or strength of my signal, so as to better broadcast my desire in order to be able to attract others on my same frequency? How do I find them?
No comments:
Post a Comment