Friday, August 28, 2009

Early Stages of Love - A Memory

tom goss tom goss

Tom Goss is doing a contest of sorts, asking for submissions on the topic of love. I didn't think I would get to it [stupidly busy week], but as I listened to his CD Back To Love, there came this need to type this out, so I figured I would not only submit it to Tom, but put it out on the blog. Not sure why I was moved to take this particular trip down memory lane, but here it is.

blogging

I went to the party thrown by my lesbian friend, expecting some laughs. Then I saw him, his curly, dark hair cascading past his shoulders. His dark features grabbed my attention. Lizz wanted us to meet, so she brought me over to introduce me to Michael. His smile warmed me, still a bit brisk after the walk from the Chinatown subway stop. We chatted and laughed, nervously at first, but soon that faded. We ended the conversation with an agreement to meet again. We went to the movies, to see 'Maurice,' at a Midtown cinema, and went for a bite to eat after. Soon it was time to leave, following a very nice kiss - the first in over a year, since it ended with Bill.

Michael Michael

We went out again, this time to the Lower East Side restaurant, near where he lived. After dinner, we went back to his place, and he played me some music he recorded. It was good. At least, I think it was, but he was most certainly winning me over. He broke out the guitar and played songs he had written for me. It felt so intensely personal, so intimate, it was over for me. I was falling in love. His voice, certainly not the strongest nor purest to try music, had an honesty, an edge to it. We talked between songs, exploring one another. We also started the physical exploration, first brushing against the other, then caressing, and soon holding. I couldn't help but touch that beautiful face, brushing the back of my hand and knuckles along his cheek. Soon our fingers intertwined, and we leaned back against the exposed brick, holding one another, talking. This felt more intimate, honest, and raw than almost anything I had felt in six years with Bill. We kissed, and our hands explored new territories. It was late - or early, considering your perspective - and I needed to find my way home to Brooklyn. I remember nothing from the trip home, save for the sheer joy and elation at having made a real connection with another living soul. 22 years later, I still remember the feeling. I don't remember much about the last week of that relationship, but I remember Michael, and those very precious early moments.

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