Friday
June 23, 2006
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Volume 34
Issue 25
 
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Saturday, Aug 24, 2019

 

 



 
Tour De Life by Beau Burriola
(TOO) YOUNG LOVE
"He's eighteen, and he's a hipster, too," Nick announced excitedly over drinks at Rosebud. His description conjured up images in my mind of a kid with carefully crafted long streaky hair, a tight brown or black T-shirt with this or that band logo on it, and maybe a leather-banded watch or a standard issue hipster spike stud belt haphazardly adorning a super skinny waist. I frowned.

From the previous ten minutes of our conversation about the last kid who broke his heart, I thought for sure Nick would announce that the next guy he'd seek to find might have some qualities that would stop that from happening again, like maybe a few years of experience at relationships and love.

When Nick and I were eighteen, we were both into guys as young and silly as we were. We believed, naturally, that our first relationships would last forever and we jumped in with both feet, unable to believe any of it could go wrong. Over time, I adjusted my view of the type of guy I'm into, believing that building a mutually respecting partnership takes some degree of maturity in the partner. Nick's type, however, hasn't changed one bit, and so over the years I've watched, listened, and been as supportive as I can as kid after kid has come along to fascinate him and then rip his heart in two. At times, it's even been sort of cute to see that he still has the same childlike hope we both started out with. For years, I've written it off simply as a difference of taste. This time was no different and I listened to the same old story with different characters.

A few weeks later, Nick and I met up again at Rosebud while I listened to the story of how hipster boy had broken his heart and sent him into a depressed tailspin, I thought I might try to spring my long-awaited advice.

"Maybe it isn't the healthiest thing," I tried to say gently, spilling out all I'd thought about over these years just as I'd rehearsed, even including a witty review of Nick's Boys and a quote or two from the words he'd just told me. When I finished all I had to say, I watched proudly as he glanced out the window. I thought I recognized a look of deep ponderous thought in his eye. I sat back to let my old-friend words sink in and do their magic.

"But this weekend," he started slowly, his tone growing in excitement with every word, "I met a hot Navy boy named Ryan. He's eighteen!" And with that, I pierced my olive, downed the rest of my martini in one gulp, and hunkered into my seat for another exhausting twenty minute description of the newest kid on the block.



Beau Burriola is a local bike writer soaking up sun and waiting for the blackberries to ripen. E-mail him at beaubrent@gmail.com or visit www.beaubrent.com
visit Beau at www.beaubrent.com

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