Hallmark Has No Homos

“I want you. Now.”

Well, who doesn’t want to hear that?  So, despite the alarm going off, a curious kitty, and a pillow gone askew, I found myself right where I belonged – under 280 pounds of muscular manly man who required my presence and devotion.

At a rather critical moment, he stopped his attentions.  In a Brooklyn-y growl, I was informed: “Ya bettah know that you’re the best thing that evah happened right heah.”

I couldn’t help it.  This is so not like me, but I busted out crying (f’n Valentine’s Day and hormones) and buried my face in his big be-tatted shoulder.  He grabbed my chin, kissed me, and recommenced driving me insane.

Without being more graphic I will tell you that I was his and he was mine.

So what’s that all about?

Well, I think it’s a bit different with two guys as opposed to a hetero couple or two lesbians.  The underlying motivation – sharing physical pleasure with your beloved, and being as close to them as possible – is the same no matter what plumbing one has.  But with two men there is more freight.  I think, for a man, opening yourself up to a woman has a bit less risk.  She doesn’t inherently understand what being a man entails.  What she knows and feels is that the person with her is giving 100% – but 100% of what?  Some women can understand the concept of manhood – the expectations of responsibility, the stifling of emotion.  I must point out that many women are emotionally stronger than men because they have to be.  But being a man is not a thing which is easily explained to someone who isn’t.

Two men in love are often opposite sides of a coin.  Where there’s overlap – ego, stubbornness, appreciation of art, beauty and life – they simply nod and accept it.  Where there’s conflict – largely due to jockeying for position in the relationship – it can either make or break a couple.  When two dudes fight over a lamp, the lamp is very often not the issue.  It’s a struggle for who’s going to run the show.  Smart gay men – like smart straight men – figure out pretty fast that the person who appears to run the show often doesn’t.

I keep our home clean, and I make sure that Cap’n has tasty noms, clean clothes, and gets to the doctor and dentist when he needs to. I also manage our finances.  That could be subservient, but it’s not.    I have not had to worry about car maintenance for 7 years, and any chore I wish to defer will be done by him. I write notes and leave flowers, he sneaks up behind me and gives me stealth hugs, often with fantastically dirty commentary.  I have not had to drive to a family event since 2003. He shines all our boots and shoes, I plan our vacations.  We plant flowers on our terrace together.  It works.  I am one of the luckiest Gays that ever Gayed.

When I am very old, I will look across a well-worn Ethan Allen dining table at the Cap’n, and while his jaw will be a bit less square and his skin a tad more papery, I will find myself in those caramel-colored eyes and want to rub those big arthritic shoulders.

There is no Hallmark card for this.  But that’s all right.

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