Friday, Nov. 14, 2003 - 9:33 p.m.
Happenings

It's wonderful to have Adam here. In real life, he's exactly what I expected having read and enjoyed him online all these years. From a literary and personal perspective, I had high expectations.

I learned something new this week: something new to do with boys.

I met "J." (in this instance, to avoid confusion, I'll adopt Adam's practice of using first initials instead of pseudonyms) this summer, just a few weeks after I got out of the hospital. He chatted me up on gay.com, and I sure liked his cute pic. A lithe, intelligent 18 year old Asian guy, J. made it clear that he was primarily boyfriend-hunting but also interested in sex for sex's sake. I told him I was probably not looking for a boyfriend right now, and that recent troubles had made me less open to quickie sex than I used to be. I said that I no longer invited men back to my apartment until I knew them better, and of course this made J. curious. He asked what had happened, and I told him. Coincidentally, it turned out that J. had been told of my assault by a gay man we discovered we both knew (J. knows him better than I do) who had used the story of my misfortune as a warning to J. to be more cautious about meeting guys for sex.

J. and I met for ice cream and a walk in the park one summery evening shortly after, and I liked him. Like most people (especially and including me), he was older than his years in some ways and younger in others. He flirted with me; I flirted right back. But I didn't think sex would be a good idea, and I certainly wasn't ready to invite him back to my place that night. It didn't much matter, as his mother called him on his cell repeatedly, demanding that he come home, so our date was cut short.

J. and I met up again about a week later, and after another long walk and talk he asked if I'd be comfortable renting a movie and watching it together at my place. I said sure.

We were less than halfway through the movie (Steam), cuddling on the couch, when J.'s caresses and entreaties got the better of my oh-so-noble intentions. We adjourned to my bedroom. J. was passionate and intense; his intensity unnerved me. This showed how fucked up I was about sex in those early days after the assault. He asked me to fuck him, and I said no. Then he said he'd never been fucked before, and I got triggered by this revelation. I explained why this was an issue for me (the last guy I had fucked, also a virgin, tried to kill me) and J. helpfully offered to let me tie him up, bind him to the bedframe. "Wouldn't that make you feel comfortable?" he asked. "Couldn't you fuck me then, knowing I couldn't attack you?" Smilingly, I declined.

It was a week or so afterwards that I contracted the chicken pox, then met Miles. The inchoate friendship with J. went by the wayside. He and I chatted on gay.com occasionally, J.'s reaction to my new relationship was fine, and we kept talking about getting together some time.

So that when J. called me this past long weekend, I invited him to meet up with Adam and I that same afternoon. We went to a movie, and these two young men hit it off instantly. (I won't embarrass Adam by sharing how I gauged his reaction to meeting J. in those first few minutes, but let's just say there was no hiding his enthusiasm. Ahem.) They've been virtually inseparable ever since; right now they're out on the town together.

And I'm so happy I helped make this happen, eh? Adam has been positively glowing this week; there's nothing like connecting with someone new and interesting to make an attractive man radiantly beautiful.

So, yeah, I learned something new about what to do with boys.

Share them.

Let new things happen. Risk the momentary discomforts. Let loveable men in my world happen to each other.