Why are the Good Ones always the Married Ones?  Let's think about this... it's not just the "unavailability" of these guys, nor the presumed "masculinity" they carry.  They're cool.  Most of them, genuinely Nice. Which, in the realm of Gaydom, is a rare commodity.  Sex is sex.  If it's not going to be LTR, committed, monogamous, then at least let it be Fun.  Hot. Hot AND Fun?  That would be the Married Men.

This last/current guy is cool.  OK, there have been TWO.  And they're both pretty amazing.  Great attitudes,
fun, friendly, passionate (ie, horny), and eager to strip down.  No complaints.  And they don't stick around to bore me with endless monologues about Them.  Which is fine, although I do hanker after the One who WILL stick around, and let me talk about ME.

My new favorite Married Man dropped by this morning.  It had been a good morning - my first day off in several weeks.  Still, I can't help waking up, getting up, at 7:30.  I made coffee, baked scones.  Award-winning scones: chocolate chunks, slivered almonds, coconut.  I was impressed, at that early hour.  A quick text message to ____________________ was replied to with a quick, "I'll be there in a bit."  Whoa.  Really?  I left the door ajar, climbed back into bed - naked, of course - and waited.  I didn't have to wait long. 

Before I was fully conscious, a tall, handsome (in a dorky, David Duchovny way) had stripped down in my bedroom and was laying on top of me, making out like bandits.  Dear Lord, it was wonderful.  I imagined how great this sort of thing could be if we were actually in a committed relationship.  No, really: I did a quick personal inventory.  It wasn't the fact that he would soon be off running errands for "The Wife," but the fact that a tall, handsome, (in a dorky, David Duchovny way), was naked in bed with me.  Although that went a long way... He was Nice. Cute.  Sweet.  And... well, you don't need to hear the details.  Do you...?

We parted company.  We'll do this again.  Back to the scones.

Ech

Quick, before the melatonin and Miller kick in.
File this under: Was It Worth It?
Feeling all Joe Orton and shit, I gotta hit the hay pretty quick here. After yet
another furtive evening of pursuit, I finally hit the big time with a dark-haired young man.
Cause... 35 is young now, dammit. He was willing, I was tired, the wind was blowing. In other
words, the planets had aligned in my favor. He drove in from Ann Arbor, six pack in tow.
Which was fine, because I am sick of this micro-brew crap from Whole Foods.

You know how you can tell instantly whether sexual chemistry is there? Yeah. Like that.
Nice enough, good looking enough. Just ... something about him. Maybe his talk about being
between girlfriends? Or the off-handed, "You wanna turn the lights down and go at it?" which
seemed to indicate there was no point in talking. I insisted on small talk. Where ya from? What're you studying? OK, now let's slip out clothes off. Which we did.

Among the Things I Find Most Annoying, this one is paramount: that "yummy" sound some
guys make; the "mmm" "aaaaah" noise that's supposed to signal approval or titillation. Gimme a break. Shut up and enjoy it. I don't need approval. (Wait - might have just had a breakthrough!)

At any rate. While I was rubbing his back - which I am VERY good at, btw, he let slip, "So, if you were going to FUCK me, how would you do it?" Uh... by slipping erect penis into your willing ass? Like THAT? It's the talking that kills an erection quicker than imagining Rick Santorum in the room. Which could be kinda hot, come to think of it. I can talk or I can fuck. Take your pick.

That and I've never been able to keep it up with a condom on. So I just don't do it. Unless it is requested. Did I just write that? Am I opening myself up to criticism or lawsuits? It's late, I'm tired. I did not fall in love.

He did request "another round" but I was done. Maybe if he'd been a better conversationalist.

Goodnight.