I always debate writing about nebulous things, because this, with the pretty thing, is not really a ‘thing’, but it’s a ‘thing’ in that he is getting inside my head, and when someone takes up residence there, I want to write about it even though it is difficult for various reasons (I’ve written about this blogging dilemma) before.
The pretty thing contacted me about 3 months ago, an articulate, chatty introduction email in response to my initial workout post calling for people to come join me. He wanted to join me.
The first photo I saw of you was innocently posted in public. A casually posed shot, careless, a little blurry with movement, shirtless, showing an obviously lean body, no detail, a shock of dark hair.
My comment on it was understated, controlled, it was, after all, a photo of some boy I didn’t know and I am rarely moved by them, though I can appreciate beauty in many forms.
“…and thank you muchly for the eye candy you have already provided in your profile photo. You are a very pretty boy indeed.”
Context: [Snippet of an IM conversation with a lovely flirty boy who lives nowhere near me… I am sensibly and tediously talking about the difference between remote connection and real life…]
Him: You wouldn’t like to know what I feel like?
Me: You forget that I have experience with this… of meeting someone and ‘it’ was just not there, though remotely it very much seemed like it was. Chemistry is indefinable, so my point is that everything up to meeting is imagination and wishful thinking. And that shit is powerful, but that doesn’t necessarily mean it will translate. So … [...Read More]