Wednesday, Aug. 20, 2003 - 5:12 p.m.
Kindredness of Strangers (No More)

Bah, enough negative stuff: there’s been some great stuff happening in my life too.

Time for you all to meet Cameron. I myself met him about two weeks before the pox befell me, late one Friday night chatting on gay.com. Cute pic, a tall, broad-shouldered 19-year-old Asian guy who lives in my (oh-so-very-queer) neighborhood. He was hot to trot that night, except he had friends visiting—a slumber party—and so he could neither invite me over nor dash out for a quickie at my place. (I’m not comfortable inviting strangers over to my place anymore anyway, but that night it sure was tempting.)

But Cameron came up with the most ingenious idea: why didn’t I phone him when I woke up the next day? I could come over, he said, for some morning fun because his friends would still be sleeping.

So that’s precisely what I did. I was heading into work that Saturday (to make up for some of the lost time when I was off work after the assault—I’ve now missed a grand total of five weeks’ work this summer) but I paid Cameron a visit on my way. Wow, we had fun! He was even cuter in person—pretty-boi face and pouty full lips that know what to do with themselves—and is he ever tall and hunky! His athletic build is offset—no, complemented actually—by an impish, effeminate demeanor that is completely authentic, and thus a turn-on. (To me it doesn’t much matter mannerisms-wise, butch or femme: so long as I’m attracted to you physically and you are genuinely being yourself, I’m aroused.)

We had a great time that morning, and lo and behold I saw Cameron online later that night and he came over to my place for round two. It was an evening of firsts, I told him: (a) he was the first guy I’d invited to spend the night since the assault, and (b) this was the first time I could remember ever having two sex-dates with one guy on the same day.

The fun and frolic were immensely healing, let me tell you.

Since then—up until I got sick—Cameron and I spent a few more nights together and we really seemed to click. He’s adorable, cute as a bug, very open about stuff, and extremely gentle and kind. We had the big “relationship” chat, of course, and like me Cameron’s not particularly looking for a boyfriend; like me, monogamy ain’t his strong suit. “We’re made for each other,” I laughed, as we sat out on my deck chatting about this. He smiled—Cameron makes this cartoonish, hilarious face when he grins, pursing up his big lips and scrunching them far over to the right—and promptly shoved his bare foot into my crotch.

So yeah, we communicate well. (grin)

He’s a lot more into anal sex than I am. I’m even less into it after my assault, particulary the butch top role. (You see, the night I met Diego he requested that I fuck him; uncharacteristically, I complied. I suspect that it was this particular activity that triggered his psychotic attack.) Cameron really wants me to fuck him, but I’ve explained why that’s a bit of a problem for me right now, and he’s been wonderfully understanding so far. He’s also made his interest in doing me abundantly clear, and I think I’m feeling comfortable enough with him to, um, accommodate this request. But there’s lots of other stuff to do in bed, and Cameron and I have been having loads of fun. I really like having him sleep over, too; I’m a lot less anxious falling asleep with him lying there beside me.

Boyfriend in the making? I don’t think so, no. But man, I’m glad he’s happened along. We’re both zany enough that a long-term sexual friendship thing might just work out. I’m not worrying about the longer term right now anyway, and am simply enjoying this pretty, angular, naughty young man’s presence.

I got sick Pride weekend, and Cameron has never had the chicken pox so I haven’t seen him since. He was really worried about me, always phoning to check in on me and he walked over to drop off a get-well card with Truman and Becca one night when I was too sick to even get out of bed. We talk on the phone every day now, and trade raunchy text messages back and forth too.

And he gave me the most wonderful gift one night last week. Having begun to feel better, I was going out of my mind with horniness yet still wasn’t sure if I was contagion-free. I was whining about all this to Cameron on the phone, and he suggested I log into NetMeeting. Even though I myself was cam-less, he put on a little webcam show for me.

Let’s just say I really appreciated it. (ahem)

(Because of that delightful experience, I went out and finally bought my own webcam a couple nights ago.)

Tonight, at long last, Cameron and I are meeting up again face to face. But wouldn’t you know it, he was sick (the flu or something) for a few days earlier this week: he’s feeling a lot bettter, but I told him I really shouldn’t kiss him yet because I simply can’t afford to get ill again and miss any more work. Cameron’s text-message-reply? In that case, he wrote, he’d have to find other things to do with his lips a little lower down.

I like the way this guy thinks.