The Weekend That Was

Busy busy busy!

On Friday night, I headed down to Philadelphia for my date with Richard. I got a very late start. I've gotta remember that on Friday nights, I'm exhausted after a long week of work. Zip! I leave work... Whoosh! I dash home, feed Faithful Companion, walk Faithful Companion, get dinner on the table for my father... Zoom! I dart off to whatever assignation... Nope. That doesn't work. It's like making my way upstream in a river of molasses.

But, eventually I got to Richard's humble abode in West Philadelphia. We talked. We went out for Ethiopian food (nice!), we came back and listened to music (Medner, Weil, Messiaen). It was a great night.

Alas, I didn't feel what they refer to on Boy Meets Boy as 'a romantic connection.' In otherwords, my dick didn't jump once. I think that's because in a phone conversation, Richard mentioned that he had a quick temper and a propensity to obsession.

Uh... that is a fair description of my Ex. I had seven and a half years of that. Alas for Richard, I don't need to sign up for any more of that. But, I had a great night, and I would love to get together with him as much as our schedules allowed.

Then came Saturday. I was really looking forward to Saturday. I had a Project. My project was sort of like Frank N. Furter in Rocky Horror Picture Show. I was building my own bondage Top.

Y'see, I'd been chatting with this guy on AOL. Top man. Fairly local. Not so much in the way of experience. He asked me what I was up for, and I said that getting hogtied and having my asshole worked on would be pretty sweet. He admitted that he had never done a hogtie before.

No problem! I'll show you! The plan was we would meet at Home Depot (how hot is that???!!), and buy some rope for him. I'd show him how to cut down the rope and secure the ends with duct tape so it doesn't unravel, and then the basic principles of bondage that would allow him to hogtie me.

So I'm getting all excited looking forward to this trip to the Home Depot in Montgomeryville (how hot is that???!!), when I get an email from him. "Sorry. Gotta take a raincheck."

Not quite, Buddy. Y'see, in my book, there is never--short of death, dismemberment, military service, or an invitation to attend a state dinner at the White House--there is no good excuse for bailing on a play date.

I'm pretty sure he wimped out. Raincheck? Nope. You had your chance, Pal.

But no matter. I verrrrrry hot bear I've been talking to was going to be at the Raven in New Hope.

Cool! That's worth a trip to New Hope.

But, making dinner for my father and such got me involved with stuff here at home. After dinner, my father and I spent some time together and watched the news. It wasn't until after my father went to bed that I headed down to the Raven.

Since I anticipated being back in a couple of hours (verrrrry hot bear was going to be at the Raven with friends of his; it was just a meet-and-say-hello experience). So I left the television and the lights on, and didn't mention to my father that I was heading out as he already had gone to bed.

Uh huh. The Raven was packed when I arrived, although there was no sign of Verrrrrry Hot Bear. (I later learned he and his friends had headed down the road to the Cartwheel.)

I first saw him from behind. He was wearing a Harley Davidson shirt.

Hmmmm.

And then he turned around, and I thought, "I know you from somewhere." As in, somewhere like MAL.

After more time than was necessary of sidelong glances standing next to each other, we broke into conversation. Yup. He was a leatherman. From South Jersey. Giving himself a weekend in New Hope, staying at a motel across the street. It turns out that he moved home to take care of his parents, too.

I offered him company. He was amenable.

Y'know, what is it about Jersey Guys? They are all so sweet. Kind-hearted and guiless. I mean, this is just about universally true. I first noticed these qualities withe the guys from Jersey that I met in college.

And this guy last night was no exception.

He was feeling Toppy, and I was feeling bottomy, so we were a match. And he was perfect. Slow, gentle, and sweet. All that and a nice fat dick that felt great sliding into me.

And today. Sunday. Superbowl Sunday? Nah. Football's not my game. Baseball is my game. (Although, when I was asked a few days ago who I 'liked' on Sunday, my reply--not knowing much more than what teams were playing--was, "Pats by three." Now that's eerie.)

No, I was driving up to NYC for another meeting of the Spirituality Special Interest Group. There we were, six gay men for whom S/M is our path in life, doing our best to make some kind of sense of that. It was tremendously powerful.

One theme in our discussions was the phenomenon common to all who have seen the light: how to present what we have discovered--this ineffable thing beyond words--to an uncomprehending world. The Greeks in the Dionysian cults called this phenomenon 'Agon,' and from this word we have 'agony.'

We next meet in April. April. Softball will have started. April is National Poetry Month. In April, I'll receive three paychecks, and hopefully be able to make some headway in catching up on my debts.

Anyway.

It's late. I've gotta get to bed. Tomorrow, it's back to work.

'Night.

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