Then there was BP. I had had casual, online, and mail (mail!) contact with him over the past few years. He’s involved in our scene quite a bit and puts heartfelt things together, lovingly sending me free copies of hand-touched pieces. I had just received a wonderful package from him about a week prior to our meeting. I couldn’t wait to thank him in person. Somehow, I had his visual image confused with someone else and when I met him in person I couldn’t quite fix that mix-up in my mind for a whole night. But fix it I did eventually and I came to admire him even more and carry a romantic fondness for him.
He is quite a bit older than the majority of our group of friends, and active people in this scene. His hair is completely grey, though it’s still quite thick and lustrous. His skin may be dry and lined, but he smiles a lot, almost as much as his eyes do. His eyes are a watery blue. Not watery as in bearing itchy tears, but pale, shining blue like a pure ocean. He is just taller than me and gives the most incredible warm hugs.
We talked so much over the weekend. He is utterly easy to talk to and get along with. He has a lot to say and much to brag about, being a part of a fiercely iconic music scene some twenty years ago and currently in a much loved band. But brag he does not. He speaks carefully and directly to you, and then asks thoughtful questions of you. It is impossible to overstate how attractive this is.
He only recently put his thoughts together on the long weekend we all spent together. All of us were taken with his words but me especially so. He mentioned me three times on three things I remember distinctly, him making me out as a beautiful, interesting, multi-faceted person. He made my insides burn with desire and appreciation. I hope to let him know more when I’m near him next month.
CR is from a South American country and resides in our country’s biggest Latino paradise. I missed out on meeting him when I was in his sizzling city in March as we had just casually started introductions online. A shame because when I met him at this festival, I was smitten.
Tall – very tall – slender, caramel colored skin, thick black hair and thick black spectacle frames to match, the classiest of t-shirts advertising his favorite bands, and spanking new white converse trainers. He came bearing gifts, too. He gave me a brilliant seven inch from his amazing record label. I swooned.
I spoke with him here and there over the weekend. Honestly, it was sometimes difficult to hold a conversation with him as his accent is so thick. But I kept going for it because his sense of humor and unparalleled confidence was insane. He has worked with so many bands and even if he hadn’t put their single out, they all seemed to know one another. Set lists were dedicated to him. Gifts were bestowed upon him.
He was always chewing gum. He always stood head and shoulders above everyone else in the tightly-knit crowds. He always had a tote bag of records and other goodies with him. He always had facts and opinions to readily offer in the sweetest way. I ached.
If my life circumstances do not change, I will be seeing him in September. We’ve been exchanging emails about this and both seem to be equally thrilled about the prospect. My fantasies have been raging like wildfires through me since this has come to light. I’ve no idea what he would be up for but I hope it will be adventurous and true.
I didn’t know EP would be there. I knew of him because he is an integral part of our community. We live in different countries but I had once been in the same room as him before when I attended a 3-night event he put on. I remembered him differently. Not one to truly catch my eye.
As soon as I met up with my group of friends Thursday night, he was there. We shook hands and I blushed. He had black, wavy close-cropped hair and piercing ocean-colored eyes. He was fit and looked like he worked out, unlike a lot of his peers in his age range.
Over that night I could feel his gaze on me. I returned it. The next day we all met up again and I loved listening to him speak. He had an unusual accent and he spoke slowly. I savored every word.
I felt his attraction to me and I hope he felt mine. The second night he noted my dress and pointed out how I stood out and he appreciated the effort I made amongst a bunch of sometimes average, sometimes grubby kids. Another time he commented on how sweaty he was (it was sizzling hot over those four days; and the venues provided very little respite). I told him we were all sweaty and probably a bit stinky. He said he bet I wasn’t.
He backed off a little bit when my partner joined us halfway through the weekend. I wonder if EP thought differently of me when he thought I may have been single. I’m sure he did. It’s always heartbreaking when you see someone look at you differently, interact with you differently. I want to say: please don’t stop.
The last night he said something to me that took me aback. It was true, but it was not something I say of myself, something I believe in, nor something I ever say out loud. I downed two drinks quickly after that. A flush flowed over me the rest of the evening and when we said goodbye he kissed me on the cheek and gave me an all-enveloping full-body hug. We fit like puzzle pieces. I did not want to let go.
A dry spring it’s been but come June and the heat is on. I go away for a long weekend and meet a cadre of gorgeous people, many of whom I want to devour. I will detail each of them over a few posts.
PF is a gorgeous singer-songwriter who is always writing or recording a song or collaborating on some musical project. His talent is endless. But he is no stereotypical slacker musician, working nights at the local diner. Oh no. He is a professor. A professor of literature! A true academic and only in his mid-30s. And he is a carrier of the accent I have swooned over for half my life.
He is a rare bird, PF. Outgoing, affable, prodigiously talented, relatively young, stable, humble, and kind. I saw him about for four days. The first night I saw him perform my heart beat fast for him. He moved amongst my friends and acquaintances over the next few days but I just did not know what to say to him. He has big beautiful eyes. He is really quite tall. I smiled shyly as I passed him a number of times.
The last night, the night of tears and hugs and goodbyes, I finally got my chance. He’d ingested a number of drinks and was talking animatedly from early in the evening. Later on, he was talking with some new friends of mine and I sidled over. The conversation he was having with a male fan is too complicated - though hilarious - to explain here. I got in at some point. I was across from him. And then I moved beside him.
He looked at me with the kindest, most soulful eyes. His head sort of dipped down and his chest and shoulders turned completely towards me as I told him that I really liked his latest single (and I do!). I am trying desperately not to forget the way he looked at me. If ever a camera were needed to capture a moment it was then. It was with such warmth how he looked at me. I wanted to take his face in my hands and kiss his smooth forehead.
I returned his gaze and had a short, but heart-pounding conversation with him. The exchange was even, and the interest was mutual. I could have stayed there with him all night, maybe leaving hand in hand and wandering the sticky summer streets together. If I was free, I would have. He is free and in the days after our meeting he has emailed me many clever words that make my heart race. It is probably unhealthy to get my hopes up at all.
Just two weeks ago I was in a gloriously warm climate for a few days. Eighty-degrees F plus, warm breezes, and palm trees. I was alone for a few days and hoping to share a secret kiss in the salty air.
The longer I am in my current relationship, the more my confidence buckles. I used to have affairs with no fear or problems when I traveled. I fully intended to send a cheeky wink to whomever deserved it, but I buckled.
I had the perfect opportunity, too. Four cheeky British boys were on holiday and we had taken the same money-sucking tour. It would have been dead easy for me to introduce myself and ask to get a meal or a drink with them later in the evening. I heard them lament to an older woman how they had been failing at trying to do spring break American-style. We were even on the bus together back to the city; them right behind me. I got off the bus before they did and I never saw them again.
I spent my nights alone then; alone and early-to-bed. And much of my day time activities too. What a waste! What a complete and utter waste of time and energy. So rare are these solo jaunts of mine. And particularly in such a steamy atmosphere. I have nothing on the horizon now; nothing to look forward to. I was hoping to come back to my relationship and my place of living revitalized and saucy. Now I sit here with nothing but regret.
See, I truly believe that one regrets far more what one didn’t do than what one did.
After an overnight flight where everything went wrong, the only thing that kept me sane was knowing that KJ would be the one to greet me to let me into my holiday accomodation. When I saw him walking up the street, I ran with such joy to give him a hug. He told me I looked beautiful; that I was really working the snow bunny look. We had a full afternoon of flirtatious (but fairly safe in the presence of my partner!) conversation even though I was so exhausted I could barely make sense of what was in front of me.
With only two days left in the same glorious city together, we made plans to be tourists on those days.
The next day’s plans came apart as he was ill. It was a shame as I would have had him completely and utterly to myself as my partner was waiting at our accomodation for our luggage. KJ promised to meet up the next day; his last full day in town before taking off to even further away.
That night, he emailed me to tell me that his girlfriend had banned him from heading outside on his last full day in town. I read this email and held back tears. I did not respond. The next morning, he texted me to tell me to say the same words and that he was feeling much better. I did not respond. Too many other things were going awry on my holiday. All I wanted to do was spend time with him in this most beautiful, romantic city.
Utterly heartbroken at first, my melancholy turned to disdain over my holiday. Letting somebody else make decisions for you; not doing what you want to do; sitting idly by while someone else plays boss: what a turn off.
KJ expressed sadness at not seeing me more during this trip, but vowed that we would see each other again. I’m not so sure. I have no reason to go where he lives, and he has only slightly more impetus to visit where I live. The possibility of seeing one another, particularly under such extraordinary circumstances, is quite low. And even if such a time comes again, it won’t be any time soon.
It was just over one week ago that I left the person who made me feel more alive than I have in years. KJ. I had nearly a week of having my hairs stand on end, of feeling tingly all over, of having my heart soar and heavily thud thud thud as I neared the end of every day knowing that I was going to see him that night.
I was so turned on and touched him constantly during our times together. I felt like I had never been so tactile before. I felt like my palms might get calloused from touching him so much.
Of course I wanted to do more than to touch him. How could I not? But there was an invisible line between us. One which I was ready to step over the moment I saw him for the first time in over a year, but one that he didn’t seem completely comfortable crossing.
Our last night together did not have the glorious ending that I hoped it would have. We probably never stepped over that line together, though to casual observers, we were most certainly lovers. I will step over that line again and again in my mind on that night.
He came all too willingly up to my hotel room to say goodbye. I presented him with flowers for all that he had done for me on my trip to his city. I was so nervous that I could barely speak. I could not remember when I last shook with such an intense concoction of desire, lust, attraction, anxiety, and sheer nerves.
We hugged many times. He is tall but I am not short. My head reaches to underneath his collarbone. He held my hands. We could not look each other straight in the eye. I played with his scarf. I want to change where we went from there.
I would have come up behind him and wrapped my arms around him; the left around his middle and the right would creep up his back to his neck. I never touched his neck, his face, his hair. I would have buried my face in his back and held him tightly so he could not let go. I would touch his neck, and move up to his hair; his glorious, gorgeous blond fringy tendrils of hair. I would slowly wind my fingers around wisps of his hair until he moaned. I would touch his luscious vegan vanilla skin – so soft! He could not resist. He would turn around and finally look me in the eye steadily. And then we would kiss and fucking fireworks would go off. They already had done. Why not now?
