Saturday, Oct. 05, 2002 - 6:39 p.m.
Undifferentiated

I had a couple deliciously skanky experiences this week, but their telling will have to wait. Here's what happened last night.

Friday night horniness is different than hormonal imbalance on any other evening. I'm usually tired after a busy week, and the prospect of a seeking a more fully-fledged erotic encounter seems exhausting. But being the lip of a weekend, I don't want to settle for a mere solo orgasm. Push-pull; push-pull.

Last night was like that. I was browsing porn sites on the net and getting riled up. Just jerk off and get thee to bed, I urged myself. But but but… I so wanted a dick in my mouth, mine in someone else's. Just a quick fix, and then I'd be ready for sleep. It was getting to be midnight. Now or never. I roused myself, momentarily opting for "now"; then abruptly pulling back, sitting back down, and deciding I'd just toss off and retire.

And back and forth and back and forth I went.

A prompting arose, then, from some other inside place. It said, Just go out for a walk and if you find sex, so be it, and if not, maybe there is some other reason to venture out into the night.

I liked the sound of that. Sixty seconds later, I was gone.

A few blocks away, I strode by a twenty-four hour coffee shop; its patio was crowded with smokers. Someone called my name.

It was Kim, aka Nice Buns. Brightly smiling, he jumped up out of his chair, asked what I was up to. "Just going for a walk," I said.

"Can I come with?" he asked.

We walked off together down the busy gay street. My dick leapt up in my pants, and I smiled at this friendly cute young man beside me.

(I'd seen him again, by the way, in the locker room a few days after that first meeting. We chatted, he was friendly, and I gave him my number. In fact I brought him back to my place that day because, um, neither of us had a pen. He looked at all the gay-gay-gay art on my walls, without comment. We hung out here for about half an hour before Enrique showed up, at which point Kim left. He didn't call me after that, and I thought that if he realized I was gay, maybe—whether he turned out to be closeted or straight—this made him uncomfortable. Whatever; I more or less forgot about him over the ensuing weeks. Then I ran into him at the gym earlier last night and he was as friendly as ever.)

So we were walking around my neighborhood, and Kim was exclaiming all over the place. "Nice to meet you!" he kept saying, making me smile. He said he'd lost my number, had meant to call me before now so was happy to run into me twice in one day. My dick got so anticipatory, walking grew uncomfortable.

"You are a nice guy," Kim said. "I have not met any one in Canada like you."

"Oh?" I said.

"Yes. Your energy is very—how do you say that in English?—gentle, or kind maybe."

"Oh yeah?" I said, feeling downright evil.

We were in the neighborhood, so to speak, so I invited him over. He accepted without hesitation. I warned him that my apartment was even messier than last time. Kim laughed.

Once back here, I handed him a Coke and sat down beside him on the couch. Some ineffable light was coming off his face. It was so easy to peer at; his smile made me breath deeper.

Then Kim began giggling. I asked what was funny, and he shyly said he could not explain it in English.

Meanwhile there was my agenda-laden crotch. I don't think I'd ever had a guy in my apartment of undetermined sexual orientation before, but I had seen enough porn films; I knew what to do.

"So, do you have a girlfriend back home in Korea?" I asked.

Kim said that, yes, he'd had a girlfriend but they had parted ways when he came to Canada. "She occupies a small part of my heart, still," he said touching what I knew to be a lusciously firm chest, "but mostly I'm glad to be here studying. What about you?"

Now or never, I thought. "Well, actually, no I do not have a girlfriend. Um," I continued, conscious of the language barrier, "so I am wondering if you have figured out—do you know that phrase, 'figured out'?"—he nodded—"that I am gay—do you know that, 'gay'?"

Kim hesitated for a moment, then nodded again. "Yes, I know 'gay'. I thought a little bit you might be this, all the photos of men here, and art hanging too, but I was not sure."

I nodded, more fascinated by the second.

"I do not know about 'gay', much," Kim went on. "In Korea, we have it but it is—how you say?—hidden from sight. I do not know any gay, never before this night."

"You mean that I'm the first gay guy you've ever met?" I asked, incredulous.

"It is true," Kim said, smiling at me. "So, does it mean that you have sex with men, this 'gay'?"

Stifling a laugh, I affirmed same.

"But how?" he exclaimed. "How does this work?"

I savored the pregnancy of the pause that came next. "Hmm," I said, "I do not know how to answer that." I smiled at this inquisitive, fresh-faced man staring at me. "But I could show you a video!"

Kim looked away, and giggled. "I do not think I would see it. One day I look for porn—porno?"—I nodded—"on the Internet and found something gay there and I did not want to look."

"That's cool," I said.

"So what do you have then," Kim asked, "No friend for some sex?"

"Not right now," I said. "I am having a quiet time lately."

Kim nodded. "Me too," he said, shyly. "No sex for me since I came to Canada."

"Aw," I replied. "That's no good."

"It's ok," he said, looking at the wall and giggling.

"When you met me tonight," I said, feeling impish, " and I said I was out for a walk?"

Kim nodded.

"Actually, I was out for a walk thinking I might find sex."

"How?" Kim wondered, looking confused. I explained about public sex venues, how easy it is to find gay sex in this part of town. He seemed intrigued. "Well," he said, playfully, "I am sorry that I have interrupted you."

"Don't worry about it," I replied. "This is better than sex in lots of ways."

"Did you think I was gay?" Kim asked, with laughter in his eyes. I said it wasn't just that I thought he was, but that I also hoped he was. He laughed. "Sorry to disappoint you," he said.

It was all so fresh and undefended.

The conversation went like that. My hard-on never abated, and Kim plied me with questions about homosexuality. It was obvious that he'd never had a conversation like this before. I hadn't answered queries like that for a decade or more, not since the days of coming out to straight folks who'd known me for years.

We talked about sex, about straight and gay—he'd never heard of "straight", either—about male and female. The more we talked, the more Kim agreed with me that we probably had more in common because we were both men than we were different because I was gay and he was straight.

He knew the word "horny" and most sexual slang, but Kim had never heard of "coming out" before, so I explained the concept. "Ah," he said, "I understand now. And the hiding, before you could accept this gay, I feel that it was a struggle for you?" he asked.

Slightly taken aback, I answered more softly that yes it had been a painful time of my life. I told Kim a little more about what it had been like.

"Ah," he said, breathing deep and patting his chest, "I feel what you say right here."

I looked at him as if for the first time. His face was creased up as if he might cry. He kept patting his chest. "I think maybe the gentle thing I feel in you comes from that time?"

Verbal response became unnecessary; I simply nodded and looked into his eyes. Kim kept "ah-ing"; I thought I could taste his exhalations. My dick lurched and it all became about something more.

"So," he said, "Are you horny?"

There was no thought, as I exhaled the truth: "Yes I am." Kim laughed, and had nothing to say. And he laughed some more.

And I told him that I had no intention of making a pass at him. That I was attracted to him. "I'm enjoying our conversation, and if I reached over and grabbed you right now maybe you would let me or maybe you would walk out the door but either way you would not be comfortable afterwards and there would not be any more conversation between us."

Kim nodded.

He said, "Your energy is—what's the word—unique?" I nodded at him. "I do not remember this feeling from before. It is a rare thing, what is passing to me from you."

I said that I was aroused by this whatever-it-was, ricocheting back and forth.

Something gave way in him: words began to spill out. I heard about his family life back home—Kim's father died when he was five, raised by his mother and several older sisters—and he said that his upbringing had made him "feminized" or "gentle" and that he was not strong.

"I think it was your gentleness that made me think you were gay," I admitted. He was curious about that in a completely undefended way. "And I disagree that you are not strong," I added.

Kim wanted to know why.

"Well, I don't know you but look at what is happening here: you are straight and I am gay and I am telling you that I wanted to have sex with you and that I am feeling erotic sitting here talking with you and you sit here so open and honest with me—this is not something many straight men would ever do. That is a kind of strength, no?"

Kim chewed on my words. Then he looked at me again, nodded, and smiled.

There must have been something else leaking out of me, because he giggled and said "You are still horny!"

I giggled, and punched his shoulder. "I cannot help it," I said. "It is a part of what I am feeling right now."

"It is good for you, on your voyage, that we do not have sex tonight?" he said. Shocked, I answered: "Yes, it is very good for me."

"That's good," he said. "I will say that if you were woman I would have some crush on you."

"That's good too," I said, patting my own chest. "I feel that here."

He told me of more recent struggles in his life. A few years ago he had a severe neck injury which left him in chronic pain, pain so severe that he attempted suicide. But he discovered Tai Chi and meditation, and he found his way through onto the other side of the ordeal. The neck pain is manageable now, mostly, he says, because he keeps in such great physical shape.

"It was something that changed me from a normal person into someone different," Kim said, tears in his eyes. "Perhaps that is like the coming out of you?"

"Mmmm," I said, looking at him, hearing the deepest warmest registers of my voice gurgling up.

"It is maybe something else that we understand together," he said.

"I think so," I said, wanting to cradle him in my arms.

There was a pause. "So, are you horny?" he again asked. I laughed, so wanting to call his bluff, push and shove these repetitive openings through to their natural, reflexive conclusion.

But no.

We teased and flirted, and it was absolutely fucking delicious. Some day his curiosity may get the best of him, and he sure as hell won't have to ask me twice. But no fucking way was I going to risk losing out on more of what passed between us for a premature grope or lick.

"You are a great man," Kim said. "It feels like we know each other many years." I agreed. "And I am sorry to interrupt your sex life tonight"—I laughed—"But we have found some other love with each other, no?"

I gasped. "Mmm," I said.

And it was 3 am and he got up to leave. I gave him my number again. He said he would call. Kim extended his hand. I shook it goodbye.

"Oh, and in Korea men hug too and it is not to be gay," he added. "Only here is it gay. So I hug you now."

He did not have to ask twice. He giggled as I squeezed him extra tight, perhaps a moment or two past how they do it in Korea.

"And in Korea, men hold hands all the time too. Not meaning gay, just meaning friendly."

"Interesting," I said, as Kim stepped out of my apartment. "I look forward to holding your hand next time, eh?"

He laughed, and walked out into the night.

Minutes later, exhausted and glowing, I lay in bed. I peeled back the covers and yanked down my briefs. There I was in all my semi-erect glory, oozing precum, lots and lots of it. I smiled at the sight, knowing full well that minutes later there'd be plenty more where that came from.

Grabbing hold, I took a deep breath. Something beyond lust and games animated me. I was a throb of carnal knowledge: aroused, as if from long exile, to the possibilities for love between gentle men.