We had all gone away for a month, us six guys: Ray, Mike, John, Matthew, Paul and myself. It was supposed to be a bonding thing. We were in the heart of the countryside, staying in Paul’s family’s holiday home. It was miles from anywhere and it was going to be our last group outing together before Ray got married.
To begin with it was fun. Just the six of us together, nobody’s girlfriend allowed (or in John’s case, boyfriend). We drank beer and ate pizza and stayed up
I found one way to connect with other men looking for some fun was on chat lines on the phone. There were a few that were free although many charged for the service and you could get on and find others interested in the same thing you were interested in.
The particular time I’m thinking about started off as many of them did with me getting an invitation to talk with another guy about what it was
His name was Roland and he was from Jamaica. I’m guessing he was about 30. He had deep ochre skin, eyes that were almost black, closely-cropped hair, and was tall, lean and very graceful. At one point in his life he’d been a dancer, but was now a set designer for one of the larger theater companies in Amsterdam. He was just a little bit effeminate, and overtly gay.
I’d come to Europe for the summer between my sophomore and junior years of college. I’d gotten to Amsterdam
Author’s Note: In Icelandic folklore, there are many tales of huldufolk—the hidden people. One tells of ljuflingur, huldumen known to seduce and impregnate human women (‘ljuflingur’ means ‘beloved’ in Icelandic).
Many thanks to mac ropis for the thoughtful comments, spelling/grammar check, and insightful questions! Volunteer Editors are the best idea since oral sex.
***
The knife in Eirik’s right boot chafed painfully against his shin, but he did not dare
My family moved from Ohio to California when I was in High School. I instantly fell in love with California and enjoyed the opportunity to play outdoor sports year round. I excelled in baseball and swimming. We lived close to the beach to, so I learned how to surf pretty good. As the years went by I developed many great friends and was fairly popular. I missed some of my friends in Ohio but that’s about it.
My parents were easy to deal with and I pretty much got away with a lot of crap.
I do wonder though, sometimes, how I think of myself, it’s a pleasant sort of curiousness. Am I a gay man who has a girlfriend? A straight man who has been with other men? As more one way than the other? As someone who declines to identify that firmly? Adjectives, not nouns.
I suppose I think of that long flight home, Melbourne to Singapore to Paris, then another flight back home to Berlin, back to my girlfriend, our apartment, our life, the one we’d had together for about three
I had been going to a local gym to try to get back into shape after letting myself go for a while. I was 34 and just recovering from yet another bad relationship. There were a few good looking attendants both men and women. All seemed to be younger than me but all were very helpful and made me feel comfortable.
I never really went at any regular time so got to know all of them. I had more than one fantasy about all the women and a couple of the guys. I had been bi curious for some time and was
I was in college when I first had sex with another man. It was my first gay experience. It wasn’t planned, at least not by me. I’m pretty sure he had planned it, or at least had set up the situation so that things might happen. It was enlightening for me feeling those new emotions and physical sensations. It was psychologically intense and redefined how I viewed myself and my sexuality.
It was at a trade conference. A group of us college students was helping with the trade show in a
While I was in Miami about two weeks ago, I went to register for a room at a Marriott in Doral. I had made a reservation on-line about a month before that, but when I got to the desk, they told me that I had no reservation, despite showing them my printout. They thought I might have had the wrong Marriott; but when they checked there, nothing showed up in my name. I asked the desk clerk to check for space at a nearby hotel, and he said he would in a few minutes but he had to look after the
~And that, friends, is how to make a quick sausage and potato feast. Don’t burn your fingers!~
I sighed and logged out of the blog. “Mew’s Meows” was my pathetic attempt at opening up to people. My therapist had suggested it, telling me that the anonymity of the ‘net might make me spill my guts since obviously his sessions weren’t helping. I’d grudgingly agreed to make a go of a blog, in return for a promise of a waiting prescription every month.