I fell in love the other day. Well, not love so much as lust. And maybe not even lust so much as fantasy. And I have done it a few times over the last few weeks.
First was the cover model. He was a very handsome man gracing the cover of a local gay magazine. I had to read the article. Yes, I read it, I didn't just look at his shirtless pictures. It was indeed a news magazine, after all. It turns out we had something in common other than our gender. He was a writer and had become somewhat of an activist. I looked him up on Facebook, he accepted my friend request, and I began fantasizing about how/when our paths might cross. Being a model, one might assume he's a bit superficial. Yet, his photos on Facebook belie that. His smile seems genuine, he may know he's gorgeous but he doesn't seem to act it in his pictures (and in my mind, at least). Big problem, he doesn't even live on this continent. Oh, well.
I was perusing Facebook the other day, looking at other friends' posts, when the avatar of a man who had commented on a post caught my eye (and other parts of my anatomy). He was gorgeous-sexy. A tall muscle bear of a man with piercing blue eyes, a disarming smile and, according to the parts of his Facebook page he makes public, is somewhat of an artist. He lives just this side of the Mississippi, so he's on this continent at least. He has yet to respond to my friend request but that doesn't stop me from dreaming of what it would be like to be wrapped in his big, strong arms, leaning against his firm, furry chest. I can dream, can't I?
I took the subway to an event the other night, saw an attractive man sitting a few rows away but facing me, and I immediately began to wonder what it would be like to be his boyfriend. He was engrossed in his work, or book, so he never looked up. So, our eyes never met across a crowded subway car. He exited at the stop just before mine, disappearing into the wilds of Hollywood and I continued on to my destination.
All these fantasies tell me I am human, I am male and I may be emotionally ready to date. Or, I'm just lonely and needing some male attention of the physical kind. After all, some days it feels like Richard Nixon was president the last time I...., well, you know.
As far as being emotionally ready to date, that also frightens me as I have recently been very hurt and do not want to go through that hell again. I know. No pain, no gain. I must be gaining a great deal. But, of what? Ah, personal growth.
Am I mentally ready to date? NO. I keep reverting to my financial situation,which I'm not going to belabor here yet again. And, he may not care and want to just spend time with me. But, will I care that I am not contributing somewhat equally? YES. And therein lies the hurdle I must cross. I must first take care of what I need to in order to survive. In my mind dating will have to wait. But the Universe may have other plans.
But, before I continue on my path I must also address the physical aspect of dating. I've brought it up before, (see my post "Baggage" from November, 2011) and maybe this is the time for me to get to know who I am sexually. Am I more of a submissive than a dominant? What kinky pleasures excite me? Can I get into role playing/fantasy? What do I really like? Can I really learn to relax and just let someone please me? Can I learn to read his signals and discover what he likes? Can I do this without calling myself a two-bit whore for playing around like I did when I was younger? Can I do this without falling in love with the first man I bring home and want to go pick out china patterns the next morning after breakfast?
Can I get out of my head and just be who I am?
I think I just have to.
However difficult and scary that may be.