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His email back, received first thing this morning: hey, dear friend, Let's just say I've been smiling all day. (I told Keith about this online journal last week, and he was intrigued so I emailed him the entry I'd written about our fond farewell back in '99, and he loved it. No, I'm not going to disclose the Queer Scribbles URL to him, at least not now, but I'll email him what I wrote about our latest commingling.) It really works for me when a beautiful big-hearted man--all but relegated to memory--avails his sexy presence, present-tenses me with love. Erik You may not believe this, but I thought a lot about him while I was away. Our intense reunion just before I left town certainly caught me off guard. I emailed him while I was in Toronto; a few days later Erik wrote back, friendly, without much to say. I wrote back again, chatty without getting into any substance of what's going--or not going on--between us. Didn't hear back. Last night I sent him another quick email, suggesting we get together one night this weekend. Friday night in Toronto, I told my closest straight friend Phil all about Erik. I have trouble talking about this; Phil's were the perfect ears. "You're such a show-off!" he laughingly exclaimed at the beginning of my story, when I revealed Erik was only eighteen when we met last year. Phil gets such a kick out of my shenanigans; also, there is something about the way he listens that teases out heart-stirrings I don't know are there. When I was done, Phil said some beautiful things about The Lover, the Beloved, which flow from his Rumi-esque views of sexuality, spirituality and love. I wish I'd had a tape recorder; I can't now quote or paraphrase him. But I had tears in my eyes when he was done, and I demanded one of those hugs. We stood in his kitchen--a gay man and a straight man--silently clasped for several minutes. I don't know how to talk about love; sometimes, though, I recognize it in time. And sometimes out. Kentaro Kentaro and I haven't seen each other in almost a month; he got busy with mid-terms and then we were both away for a couple weeks. He was in the States on some university tour. Now we're both back in town, and I look forward to seeing--and, hopefully, tasting--him Monday night if not sooner. He told me in an email yesterday that he's going back to Japan in mid-April; I intend to enjoy as much of his company as possible between now and then. Damn, I forgot to buy a paddle in Toronto… Pierre I haven't written much about Pierre lately; there hasn't been much to tell. The last few times we've gotten together, we haven't connected at all. Part of that I blame on my pre-Xmas funk, but I sensed there was something going on for him, too; I tried to talk about 'us' the last time he was over, but he wasn't very talkative. I'd tentatively promised Pierre that we'd get together again, the week before I departed on my vacation; but I got busy, and it didn't work out. Perhaps that hurt his feelings? I don't know, but while I was in Toronto I got the following email: Hello and goodbye Obviously, my sense was correct: stuff was going on for him that he wasn't talking about. I wrote him right back, calmly, asked for more explanation about why he felt the need to terminate our friendship. Just the other night, he wrote back: it took on the first read. I had never thought of why I brokeup with you. I have no idea what that first paragraph means, but I shall get that clarified when we meet up in person next week, a get-together I suggested by return email. It sounds possible that he is still in some sort of romantic love with me--an issue I'd been perhaps woefully misguided to believe resolved over a year ago. If that is the case, I'm not sure what should or will happen; neither, obviously, is Pierre. To be honest, I don't know whether I want our relationship to continue. Perhaps it's petered itself out. All I know is, when we get together for our big talk, I will listen and respond as lovingly and honestly as I am able. The rest will sort itself out. J.C. Fuck, I love this man… It's fantastic having him live downstairs. Since I returned from Toronto, J.C. has remarked twice how much he missed me; we've had some great talks this week. Tonight he told me that he and Kyle--they're not boyfriends anymore, supposedly, but you'd hardly know it--have a threesome lined up, with a videocamera procured to record the occasion; Kyle's more into the idea than J.C. is. "So, um, how much are you gonna rent me the video for, eh?" I asked. He laughed. Perhaps I can barter a rent discount or something. Monday when I arrived home, his mother was visiting him here in his new pad for the first time; J.C. invited me downstairs to meet her. He is totally closeted with her, as she's a very devout Baptist. But wow, what a fiery, hilarious lady! I fell totally in love with her in 30 seconds flat; J.C. said afterwards that the feeling was mutual. "Thank you for helping out my boy," she said to me, over and over. Lord, if she only knew. I had only a couple pictures left on my camera, so I snapped one of mother and son. Then I asked her to take one of J.C. and me; for all the pictures--x- and g-rated--I have of this delicious man, I didn't have any of us. She was incredibly nervous about handling my camera; J.C. gave her many instructions in patois that was fascinatingly unintelligible to me. She did manage to get us both in the picture, but 75% of it was of the ceiling. But it's actually a very sweet picture of us, arms around each other; I'll have it cropped and framed. I feel an ache when I'm around him. It's not about heartbreak anymore; that phase was short-lived, albeit beautiful. My ache is more about sticking around, about mending: how queerly we can put ourselves back together when we resist the urge to flee.
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goes out to you my man, for understanding the kind of person that I am. You are truely a rare gift to this planet.
And like you said, it will forever be imprinted in my heart and mind. It's so rare, yet so unbelievable nice to have someone who not only listens but understand what i am going through. you my friend are that person. And, even though we may not see each other for however long that period is, and wherever we may meet, a repeat performance would be a pleasure to bestow upon you again...