Perfect

The Baron couldn't make Gay Pride in NYC today, so I decided to spend the weekend doing things closer to home. And that, of course, meant a trip down to the Bike Stop in Philadelphia. Little did I suspect that it would turn out to be the Best Night At The Bike Stop Ever.

I started off by visiting a coffee place in Burlington, NJ, recently opened by a guy I know slightly. (He acted like it was a big deal that I'd go somewhere and hang out and drink coffee [g].) Then I headed into Philadelphia. I had a late dinner at More Than Just Ice Cream on Locust, and headed to the 'Stop.

Oddly, things get going pretty late there. I say 'oddly,' because last call is 1:15 pm, as opposed to 4 am in NYC, yet people only start showing up at about the same time. And at the gitgo, it was looking like just an okay night.

Cutting to the chase--not something I do easily or often--I met this guy. And went home with him. And stayed the night.

And it was Perfect.

Why so?

Well, first off, he was totally hot. Just smokin hot. In fact, on WorldLeathermen, he's almost always among the 'Top 100 Rated Members,' and has spent time in the Number One spot. Deservedly so.

Secondly, he did nothing wrong. He wasn't a lawyer. He could hold a conversation. He had a sunny disposition. He wasn't an avid collector of Erté figurines or Barbie dolls, or hummels or things with ducks on them or some shit.

Thirdly, he did everything right. He asked me whether I was Top or bottom, and I replied that although I'm pretty much a Top, I'm flexible. And what I really go for is intensity. And I like it best when the connection is there, and two men can go just about anywhere together.

And he said, "Yeah, me, too."

And he meant it.

And we did.

And it was so great. And it was totally wild.

I mean, there were points when he would sort of send up a trial balloon, and I'd be like, "No way! That's one of my Big Fantasies! He can't be going there, but I'd return that volley (Oops! Mixed metaphor alert!), and he'd take the ball and run with it (Yikes! Triple Mixed Metaphor Alert!), and we'd be off to the races (Oh man! A Rare Grand Slam Mixed Metaphor Alert!).

And then he asked me to spend the night, and periodically, once both of us were wrapped around each other under the covers, we'd get busy again.

So yeah. It all came together. A hot man. A good guy. A serious player.

An all to rare thing.

But here's the best part.

Today, driving home, stopping off at the SuperFresh StoopidFresh to get the NY Times and treat myself to some breakfast cereal (a true splurge, I don't allow myself to have that ridiculously overpriced nutritionally jejeune stuff, but here I am with a box of Golden Grahams), and giving Faithful Companion his long overdue walk, my head was filled with romantic possibilities.

I've written before here about how the thing I miss the most about NYC is the constant cloud of romantic possibilities that surrounded me. Maybe him... maybe him... maybe him...

Who knows if it will go anwhere at all, but that doesn't matter. I have what I have: a great night under my belt, and a head full of dreams.

Sweet.

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