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Friday
July 22, 2005
SGN.org
Volume 33
Issue 29

Saturday, Nov 21, 2009 05:36

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Thirst

Thirst - Bad Rhythm
by Aubrey Hart Sparks - www.aubreysparks.com Small natures require despotism to exercise their sinews, as great souls thirst for equality to give play to their heart. Honoré De Balzac (1799-1850) Chapter 38 Bad Rhythm Suddenly Bob kissed me which surprised me. I thought he already had a boyfriend. Not only did I not know he had been broken up with recently, I had not noticed how many drinks he had had that night. He put his hands around my body and failed to notice that I was not kissing him back. In the past, there had been annoying and disappointing moments with Bob, but this was the winner. Unfortunately, I couldn't very well treat him as though he were gum stuck to the bottom of my boot anymore. And to make it all worse this was a really bad kiss. He simply pressed his lips onto mine, using far too much force. A moment later, he slipped his tongue into my mouth and the kiss became a huge whirlpool, drowning us. As usual; he and I were not at the same rhythm. More as a reaction to trauma than apropos of the moment, I found myself thinking of Bob as an "Everyman" character. Everyman was the subject of medieval morality plays, of didactic allegories. These often told of the common man's struggle for salvation in which, finally, only his good deeds accompanied him in death. I let my mind drift further from the moment and considered the Mystery plays, about Christ or the Old Testament; and the Miracle plays, about the lives of saints, histories and legends. I considered the Stonewall riots and the deaths of Harvey Milk and Matthew Shepard. I considered, irrelevantly, how the Morality Play, the Mystery Play and the Miracle Play made modern theater possible and later gave way to it. Bob's tongue snapped me back to reality. Around and around inside my mouth it went as if it was a tourist in a museum. "Isn't it interesting?" it would say and then go with the guide to the next room. Bob was perhaps in love with me but he was even more in love with the idea of love. I lightly pushed his chin from my mouth with my fingers as if he was a dog. The gesture was a non-verbal "Sit! Good boy!" And he did. "Bob," I said to him, "I do think you are a handsome man but you need to slow down." He began to apologize but I put my finger across his lips to make him stop. He was trembling. "Do you trust me?" I said to him. He thought for a moment before nodding to say yes. "Good," I responded. "Let's talk for a moment and see if we can make this better. Did you eat today?" "I ate a muffin for breakfast and there were a few things at the party. I am very hungry. How did you know? "Next question: are you very angry or lonely or are you tired?" He blinked as he thought. "Yes." "Well, we need to HALT this situation. First, you need to take care of your body. Then we can talk." Bob and I went to a restaurant where I watched as he ate. I could see the color of his face becoming more human. "Thank you&Daddy. You are the best Daddy. You are so helpful," he said to me. These words hit me deep and I felt my heart turn to ice. I breathed without saying anything for a moment, thinking that I had changed my mind and did want to be alone after all. I began to plan an exit. "Okay," I began, "have either of us made any kind of agreement about our relationship?" "Aren't you my daddy?" he asked, changing the subject. I sighed. "That kind of relationship, the one in which I am called Daddy, is very important to me. And a few of the people I have shared that kind of relationship with were important to me as well. But, among the other people, most of them used those words - Daddy or son - as though they were like a hat, something that looks good with the coat and the shoes. When these words are used as mere titles they become less important, less personal." I paused to see if he was following this but he was blinking uncomprehendingly. But I was on a roll and could not stop this and just leave. "Some words, such as these, form agreements that create relationships. For a lot people, they are a complex path to simply getting laid. It is enjoyable getting laid but it is important to make clear if we have made a contract or are only using the words to get more aroused." "I do not understand," he said, frowning. I sighed again. As I looked at his face, I rose from the table. I knew that I was standing on the edge of a cliff and I was about to fall unless I ran away. The ground beneath me was crumbling. I did run. To be honest, the loss of those old relationships had broken my heart more than all the material things I had lost. I would not make the same mistake again. Aubrey Hart Sparks is a long-time local writer, leatherman, activist, and social annoyance. The Seattle Gay News is pleased to present the ongoing series "Equal Thirst." He hopes that you will read the Equal Thirst archives at wwww.leatherdaddy.com, with clues hidden in there for you to see if there will be a happy ending or not. The preceding work is entirely fictional. Any resemblance between its characters and actual people, living or dead, is entirely coincidental - except you.