dirty laundry

It's when I greet him at my door or when we walk out of it together in the morning that I notice it, his age, that I am aware of some striking difference between the two of us. When he is in my house though, this studio of four not too large walls in which my own reality rules, that difference seems not noticeable. We are often stoned and naked, making out, staring into his eyes with bossa nova music playing on 91.5, an hour of it for some reason. And I am not sure you can imagine it, not sure you get the same heartswollen feeling when you listen to bossa nova music, but the stuff is pure sentiment and tugs at my heartstrings and makes me weak in the knees about what it is to be alive on this planet at this time, but more so at any time - what an entirely weird and fragile little thing this is here, our existence for some period of time in this world. And something about bossa nova makes an awareness of that seem more present, that the music seems to be informed of those things, that this is music written from people profoundly aware of these things, experienced mystics accepting of these things, and so it is this beautiful and sad and loving and lamenting thing.

And so I was stoned last night and we were sitting on my couch drinking wine, and I was kind of thinking this boy was insanely beautiful, that his eyes were full of magic, and that I wanted to kiss him so much, make him aware through some tactile form of communication how it was I was feeling, how much I was feeling then, and a large part of that had to do with the music, some part of it had to do with the weed and the wine and the cold weather outside making the idea of cuddling up with a boy, some warmness against the frigid world outside the bubble of your couch, of his arms, making that idea, the idea of cuddling up with a boy seem so amazing - and so not even that makes up all what is happening here, not all the parts - some part of it was the eyes, the skin, the dopey expression on his face, something else. We kissed and kissed and eventually turned off the radio and started to watch a movie, The Big Lebowski, because I am kind of obsessed with the film and he had never seen it and his failure to have ever seen it struck me as outrageous, made me feel that there was some noticeable age difference here between the two of us, that someone my age would understand why this movie is so necessary on a list of films that you must see numerous times in your life, that this would be one of them, that he would know that, and so I insisted we watch it, me also a bit stoned and wanting to see this movie so bad during that moment.

This took us to my bed, laptop on my lap, and the two of us wrapped around each other. I have spend quite a few nights in a row now with this person, who I have decided I really need to stop referring to (even jokingly) as "the 19 year old," that that was the only real detail about this person I knew when he was just some person that came over to my house for sex from Grindr. But now he is Jacob, this nice sexy person that makes me feel really comfortable, and who I am beginning to like a little bit. I question it and wonder if it's real or what's going on here or what this feeling could stem from. I am a bit doubtful, and think that I am resisting liking this boy, holding back for a bit but that those self-restraints I had originally imposed are coming loose. It was a lovely and dirty night with him, sweaty fucking and gentle cuddling all night, and kind of everything I am looking for right now - a person that is into me physically and wants to sleep next to each other and get stoned and watch movies. It's kind of perfect and sort of everything I have always tried to push my relationships toward but have always failed at, and here it is right from the start. I also think I have forgotten what a new flirtation feels like, those first few dates with a boy, having been thinking things might happen with this one boy for a while and now trying to maybe move past that, but only kind of, and also why I am only kind of into this person, Jacob.

When I walked out of the door with him this morning, around 7, when I was leaving for work, his sweater was oversized, making him look tinier, younger. I saw some age difference, wanted some other bearded boy, my peer. And then today, I texted with Jacob and got giddy and there are ups and downs and swings from my thoughts of this person to that person to another person, to the two or three of them together, and me with them, and also thoughts about this threesome I have been trying to facilitate and really so many silly thoughts, pretty much all about boys. I turned my sheets inside out this afternoon when I got home from work, them kind of disgustingly dirty with sex stains. I could have taken them to the laundromat, done laundry, but I didn't want to, didn't want to be outside in this cold, and so instead will sleep on them, will drop them off at the laundromat tomorrow morning before I go try to find my family some Christmas presents and will pick it up later in the afternoon, clean sheets and towels and clothes in a bag all neatly folded, and me paying some monetary amount per pound of clothing for the pleasure of this task being taken care of by someone else.