Oct. 31st, 2002 11:36 am
Happiness is...
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muckefuck...sitting next to an old trick on the train (Another tale from Da's sordid past)
Fortunately for me, the station after the one where I board the Express is the station where everybody and their brother--and his seeing-eye dog--gets on. As usual, I had my head down in a book when someone large and enmanteled plunked down beside me. I gave him a sideways glance--lucky me! cute bear--and something caught my eye. I don't me just that fact that he was 6'+ with a gray-speckled beard and lovely features; no, something about those lovely features was familiar. Those cheeks, those chubby cheeks, the well-formed chin, the facial expression...
In far less time than it takes to tell, my wetware microprocessor had sorted through my store of images and found a possible match. Could it be? I stole another glance. If not, the resemblance really was uncanny. But could it be wishful thinking at work? Do all cute bears begin to look the same? The idea popped into my head to ask him; I weighed the potential embarrassment and went back to trying to read my book. Then the weight of potential regret if I didn't ask began to make itself known and I couldn't stand it.
"Do I know you?"
He didn't seem startled. "You look kinda familiar." The voice didn't ring any bells--and it was distinctive, a very restrained basso profundo. But, then, I don't remember having spoken...
"Did you ever belong to any bear clubs?"
"I went a few times, a long time ago."
"Did you do anything with Bear Naked?"
"Yeah, I went a couple times."
"Did you ever go to any of things at the place in Rogers Park, Deeks? This would've been like five-six years ago."
"Yeah, once or twice. I'm surprised you remember me!"
Even now, I do try to keep track of the men whose dicks I've sucked. And I clearly remembered going down on him in the dungeon at Deeks. His hair was poofier--crew cuts weren't as de rigueur in those days--and unsalted, but it was definitely the same guy. I thought his comment might be related to the frequent joke members of that club would make when running into each other on the street or in a bar: "I'm surprised you recognise me with my clothes on!" So I replied:
"You were wearing a vest."
As if there's any similarity between a black leather bar vest and puffy grey parka. No matter; the connexion had been established beyond a doubt. He asked me if I still went and I said no; he had apparently gone again not too long ago and found it either disappointing or weird. We talked a bit more about that club and then about the more mainstream one--which he pointed out was known as the "Great Lakes Bitches" elsewhere for its excessive cliquishness. He repeated the charge I've heard from several other disgruntled attendees that people in the GLB like to break up monogamous couples. (Of course, it's a charge that's been hurled at me slanderously, so I always take it with a grain of salt. When a relationship goes sour, it's convenient to find a scapegoat.) He said that when he failed to display a lot of enthusiasm for coming to events, other members began trying to fix his partner up with someone new.
It's not the first time I've run into someone from those days, but it's the first time I remember it happening outside of a bar or other gay setting. Well, second, come to think of it. It so happens that this extraordinarily creepy guy who was at the last BN event I ever went to (where he buttleholed poor Nuphy for a while) is the lover of one of my college professors AND they have tickets three rows behind us at the opera. Nuphy and I were riding the bus to the opera house once a couple years ago now when he came up to us and said, "I KNOW YOU!" Since then, we've gone out of our way to avoid talking to him or even making eye contact--which isn't the easiest thing to do, since I really like my old professor and Nuphy knows him professionally.
In any case, it's certainly one of the more positive encountres with one of those old ghosts. They fall into three categories: The guys, like Mr Creepy, I'd like to go my whole life without having to see again; the guys I would acknowledge if they acknowledged me, but who I could take or leave; and those few who still stir fond memories. I've sometimes thought I'd like to put together a list of The Ones Who Got Away. Not necessarily people I was actively pursuing, but that whole assortment of flings, crushes, buddies, and so forth. In Love is Hell, Matt Groening comes up with several amusing metaphors for love in its many forms, but I think his most useful is the idea of the varieties of love exploding "like a stick of dynamite shoved in a cornucopia" and spreading everywhere so that "you may have some splashed on you right now and not know it."
But I know it. I know I've got everything from unrequited longing to mindless lust and chummy tenderness splashed on me from a couple dozen sources. There are two men I can't think of without also thinking, "I should've banged him when I had the chance." And, every once in a while, I glimpse a possible world in which I ended up with someone else after my breakup with Nuphy. True to my advice to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rollick, I try not to have any regrets about those outcomes, but it's impossible not to consider them.
And, true to my advice about the future, I'm not planning to run into Mr Cheeks again. I may--after all, we're working in the same town now--but we parted without trading contact info, so there are no expectations. In fact, we didn't introduce ourselves, so I still don't know his name.
Fortunately for me, the station after the one where I board the Express is the station where everybody and their brother--and his seeing-eye dog--gets on. As usual, I had my head down in a book when someone large and enmanteled plunked down beside me. I gave him a sideways glance--lucky me! cute bear--and something caught my eye. I don't me just that fact that he was 6'+ with a gray-speckled beard and lovely features; no, something about those lovely features was familiar. Those cheeks, those chubby cheeks, the well-formed chin, the facial expression...
In far less time than it takes to tell, my wetware microprocessor had sorted through my store of images and found a possible match. Could it be? I stole another glance. If not, the resemblance really was uncanny. But could it be wishful thinking at work? Do all cute bears begin to look the same? The idea popped into my head to ask him; I weighed the potential embarrassment and went back to trying to read my book. Then the weight of potential regret if I didn't ask began to make itself known and I couldn't stand it.
"Do I know you?"
He didn't seem startled. "You look kinda familiar." The voice didn't ring any bells--and it was distinctive, a very restrained basso profundo. But, then, I don't remember having spoken...
"Did you ever belong to any bear clubs?"
"I went a few times, a long time ago."
"Did you do anything with Bear Naked?"
"Yeah, I went a couple times."
"Did you ever go to any of things at the place in Rogers Park, Deeks? This would've been like five-six years ago."
"Yeah, once or twice. I'm surprised you remember me!"
Even now, I do try to keep track of the men whose dicks I've sucked. And I clearly remembered going down on him in the dungeon at Deeks. His hair was poofier--crew cuts weren't as de rigueur in those days--and unsalted, but it was definitely the same guy. I thought his comment might be related to the frequent joke members of that club would make when running into each other on the street or in a bar: "I'm surprised you recognise me with my clothes on!" So I replied:
"You were wearing a vest."
As if there's any similarity between a black leather bar vest and puffy grey parka. No matter; the connexion had been established beyond a doubt. He asked me if I still went and I said no; he had apparently gone again not too long ago and found it either disappointing or weird. We talked a bit more about that club and then about the more mainstream one--which he pointed out was known as the "Great Lakes Bitches" elsewhere for its excessive cliquishness. He repeated the charge I've heard from several other disgruntled attendees that people in the GLB like to break up monogamous couples. (Of course, it's a charge that's been hurled at me slanderously, so I always take it with a grain of salt. When a relationship goes sour, it's convenient to find a scapegoat.) He said that when he failed to display a lot of enthusiasm for coming to events, other members began trying to fix his partner up with someone new.
It's not the first time I've run into someone from those days, but it's the first time I remember it happening outside of a bar or other gay setting. Well, second, come to think of it. It so happens that this extraordinarily creepy guy who was at the last BN event I ever went to (where he buttleholed poor Nuphy for a while) is the lover of one of my college professors AND they have tickets three rows behind us at the opera. Nuphy and I were riding the bus to the opera house once a couple years ago now when he came up to us and said, "I KNOW YOU!" Since then, we've gone out of our way to avoid talking to him or even making eye contact--which isn't the easiest thing to do, since I really like my old professor and Nuphy knows him professionally.
In any case, it's certainly one of the more positive encountres with one of those old ghosts. They fall into three categories: The guys, like Mr Creepy, I'd like to go my whole life without having to see again; the guys I would acknowledge if they acknowledged me, but who I could take or leave; and those few who still stir fond memories. I've sometimes thought I'd like to put together a list of The Ones Who Got Away. Not necessarily people I was actively pursuing, but that whole assortment of flings, crushes, buddies, and so forth. In Love is Hell, Matt Groening comes up with several amusing metaphors for love in its many forms, but I think his most useful is the idea of the varieties of love exploding "like a stick of dynamite shoved in a cornucopia" and spreading everywhere so that "you may have some splashed on you right now and not know it."
But I know it. I know I've got everything from unrequited longing to mindless lust and chummy tenderness splashed on me from a couple dozen sources. There are two men I can't think of without also thinking, "I should've banged him when I had the chance." And, every once in a while, I glimpse a possible world in which I ended up with someone else after my breakup with Nuphy. True to my advice to
rollick, I try not to have any regrets about those outcomes, but it's impossible not to consider them.And, true to my advice about the future, I'm not planning to run into Mr Cheeks again. I may--after all, we're working in the same town now--but we parted without trading contact info, so there are no expectations. In fact, we didn't introduce ourselves, so I still don't know his name.
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