This Southern Faggot's Blog


The screaming silence
November 23, 2012, 10:44 am
Filed under: People to remember, Those moments | Tags: , , ,

He’s awkward, that’s for sure. I mean, not awkward in the way I can’t handle, or in the way that feels like it hinders conversation. Something about his awkwardness gives me a strength I haven’t felt in a while. The strength to say whatever I want and it never feels wrong.

We’re walking around my neighborhood, talking about nothing, but it feels like so much. Wait, or is it the other way around? No, I don’t think so. I mean, let me make that more clear. What we talk about is interesting and necessary. I want to hear what he has to say, I want to hear him say everything he has ever thought. Him being this open makes me feel really good. It makes me feel like he needs to be protected because he’s opening himself up to someone. To me. He’s opening himself up, making himself so vulnerable and I’m here for that, I’m here for him.

I feel like he needs me here to protect him. It feels like if I wasn’t here, he would be still saying all these things, but he would float away and just disappear. Does that make sense?

I feel like he needs me here to protect him. Not in some motherly way, but in the way that we all need. I mean, isn’t that part of life? Isn’t part of human nature needing someone in your life who you can open up to and who will be there if the shit hits the fan?

Anyway, we are walking and talking about nothing, or everything, and it feels right. We talk about how many people we’ve been with, our lives and where they have intersected without us know knowing, my dog, his social work program.

Something that we seem to have in common is the ability to bring up things that are on our mind, which aren’t related in any way to what we were just talking, but it’s obvious that they were just on our mind. This is refreshing, because so often people don’t say something they are thinking, because it might not fit in with the current conversation. But if you want to talk about something, then just start

We end up walking for hours without noticing the time go by. We end up walking all the way to the river. I get the feeling that he managed to lead me there without me noticing, I know he knows the river is my favorite place in town. We are by the river, walking and talking more, same as usual, but being by the river makes it different. The river next to us feels like it’s listening to us, listening but not necessarily processing anything. It feels like it’s listening and we can tell it all our secrets.

We sit on my favorite dock and talk to each other, but really we both feel like we are talking to the river. Sometimes we look at each other when we are talking, but a lot of the time we both look out into the river, wondering where all our secrets are going. We know there safe, but still you have to wonder where they end up. Maybe each piece of sand on the bottom of the river is actually a secret that’s been given to the river to keep and hold forever. You know those are secrets and you can see them, but you know you don’t have any way of getting them out, so you don’t even begin to imagine what they are.

All of our secrets are safe in the river.

We talk about our childhoods, our parents, growing up, coming out, how we ended up where we are, where we think we are going, how we are going to get there. We talk about abuse, harassment, loneliness.

We sit and talk by (or, to) the river for a while and then decide to walk back to my place. The walk back feels different. The walk back feels like something has changed, but what? Nothing bad, but something is different. It feels like some of the walls are missing that existed between us just an hour before. Some of those walls that were secrets were thrown into the river for keepsies, but not before sharing them with each other.

We don’t touch while we are walking, but we can both feel each others presence as if we were walking interlocked in a way that would make it impossible to get anywhere.

He says that his boyfriend and him did have “the talk” and we can do whatever we want. He likes his boyfriend so much (purposely not saying love, something we have already talked about), but neither of them want to feel controlling or controlled. We end up talking more about what this means and I get so many butterflies in my stomach I wish I could vomit to feel better. Not the kind of vomit where you are bent over the toilet all night. But the kind of vomit where you vomit while walking and play it off really, really well. The glamorous vomit, you know.

On the walk to my house, we decide that he is going to spend the night to cuddle. We both want this so much, not only because we have both specifically said it, but because we can both feel it. Without saying it, we both know that we don’t want to “cuddle” (fucking, but calling it cuddling), we actually just want to hold each other all night long. We want to feel each other there, know that the world maybe isn’t that bad because we can feel we have at least one person who will be there.

We make it back to my house and we head straight to my bedroom and shut the door. We lay in my bed for a while and he looks through the copy of “Why Are Faggots So Afraid of Faggots” I keep next to my bed. We talk a little about Mattilda and what she’s given be over the past years and I just want to lay there and read to him all night. I tell him he can borrow it, but he doesn’t, maybe next time.

We decide to go to bed and he gets under the covers with all his clothes on. I get up to strip down to my underwear and t-shirt, but I have to do it facing away from him so he doesn’t see how excited I am. I don’t want him to see, not because I don’t want him to see my hard dick, but because letting him see how thrilled I am about the idea of cuddling would make me feel to vulnerable. But darling, it’s been nearly a year since I have any sort of intimate human contact!

Anyway, I undress and he decides to as well, but he takes off his pants under the covers. Does he have an erection too?

I’m the big spoon and I later learn that he is always, always the small spoon, at least as far as I can tell. We cuddle and both try to press as much of our bodies together as humanly possible. The more of us that’s touching, the more reassurances we have that the other won’t be going anywhere. I won’t let him float away, I won’t let anything bad happen to him. I’m here, he’s here, we are both here and very, very present and aware of that. We both feel that and it makes us feel so, so good.

We talk a bit more, but both fall asleep easily. Neither of us toss or turn much, everything just feels so right. I ask him if we can kiss and he eagerly says we should. We make out for a while and he loves to have his ears and neck kissed and licked too. We both are hard at this point and we can both feel it, but we ignore that part of our bodies for now. Later we will pay attention to that, but for now, we just want to feel as much of each others body as we can.

The next day, he lets me know via text how much he enjoyed last night. He felt so safe and comfortable he was able to sleep no problem. Usually he isn’t able to do that during cuddling, but I was special. I was different. He let’s know how much he enjoys being with me and how much he likes me. I want to print this text off and put it in by backpocket to keep forever. I want to always be able to remember him telling me this.

We don’t know where this is going, but I don’t think either of us is thinking about that too much. We are going somewhere, but just like walking to the river, we will both end up there at the same time without thinking about it.

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