Last night, curled up watching Anderson Cooper 360 and cuddling with John, This Man knew what my answer was.

This was some serious shit--even for This Man.

Last night while at John's house, the conversation came up about This Man moving in with him. He'd recently sold his house and would soon be moving onto his property temporarily.
"...and I was wondering how would you feel about moving in with me?" He asked. Just like that.
Quite naturally, I couldn't be expected to respond at that moment, but even while he started listing some of the positives of it, I started mentally listing all of the negatives of it. The crazy part was: there weren't many negatives to list.
This wasn't something that This Man was going to be quick to give an answer to. To better give you an understanding of how serious this was (even for two gay men), this was the equivalent of a straight couple talking about moving in together. As you can see, it's the exact same thing. But with only 2 men!
Early this afternoon, I talked it over with Jay, Lucy & Jason. Then I thought about it. Then I thought about it some more. Finally, I called John and told him that I'd been thinking about it. So had he. To be continued...

Mahalo

This Man heard this Patsy Cline hit last night at John's house. I think that sentence alone tells the whole story.


I'm back in baby's arms
How I missed
Those lovin' arms
I'm back where I belong
Back in baby's arms

Don't know
Why we quarreled
We never did before
Since we found out
How it hurt
I bet we never
Quarrel anymore

Thought I didn't
Need his love
'Til he took it away
Now I'm back
Where I belong
And in my baby's arms
I'm gonna stay

Back in baby's arms...

Mahalo

This Man was a bit surprised to receive an email from John, having been a couple of weeks since I last had any communication with him ('communication' meaning, he'd left the letter on the porch before his trip to Texas). It was an email containing only two words.


That was all it said. So I sat there, looking at those two words and wondering should I or shouldn't I? I could think of a million reasons to do it. After all, it was just coffee. But then I could think of a few reason why I shouldn't do it. After all, it was just coffee.
Twenty minutes later, This Man was still looking at that email. I knew what my answer was. Finally, mustering up the nerve, I hit the keyboard and began rapidly typing my response.

Mahalo

It came in the mail today.

My bill for my visit to the emergency room. Remember when I blogged about having to have the abscess drained from my right knee the day after Valentine's Day?
$826.47!
Are they fucking kidding me? Sure enough when I ripped open the envelope, there it was, everything was itemized, complete with charges and costs. I don't have that kind of money just lying around so This Man will definitely looking to get some sort of assistance for it. But the funny part about this bill was, there's actually a return envelope included, should I decide to just send them a nice check for the total amount.
Yeah, Scripps...just sit there and wait for it. It's in the mail.

Mahalo

Donovan.
Just seeing these pictures got me to thinking about how much you've grown. I'll bet you can't remember these days, but I certainly do. It was January of 2000, you were 3 years old and we'd recently moved to San Diego. You were a little ball of fire! Your mother and I could barely keep up with you. Lucy took these pictures of you with the web cam and sent them to me when I was deployed to the Middle East. I imagine you were running around, in those Blue's Clues pajamas, working her last nerve! Boy, were you a cutie.


Then there was this set. Concerned that there was something wrong with your eyesight, Lucy took you to have your eyes checked. Again, Daddy was on another deployment to the Middle East, only this time it was 2003. She'd sent me an email, entitled "Four Eyes" and to my surprise, there you were looking just as handsome--wearing your new eyeglasses! Your mother told me that she talked with you about having to wear glasses and to help you get over the sudden change, she snapped these pictures of the two of you.

I sat looking at these pictures for the longest time today. I couldn't help but smile and marvel at how everything has changed (some things good and some things bad), but one thing has always remained a constant, Donovan and that's my love for you. Son, you have no idea how much I miss you, how much I love you and how I think about you every day. Seeing these pictures only reminded me of how you've grown into such an amazing boy.
Daddy misses you and loves you more than you will ever know.

This Man got a small package in the mail from Lucy this afternoon.

She'd found an old navy blue Abercrombie muscle shirt of mine and decided to mail it to me. Even though, according to the note that was enclosed, "the weather is chilly in San Diego..." she felt that I may have wanted the shirt. And I did. But the real treasure inside the envelope wasn't the muscle shirt, nor was it the denim iron-on patches, it was a zip disk that she'd found and decided to include it also. I couldn't even remember what was on the disk, but luck was on my side because in this house was an iomega zip drive.
It was pictures. Pictures from early 2002. There were pictures of Lucy. There were pictures of Donovan and there were pictures of me at work when I was stationed on my first guided-missile destroyer here in San Diego.
The first picture was taken while sitting in Radio during a General Quarters drill. We were training for a CBR (Chemical, Biological & Radiological) excercise which is why I have the gas mask and flash gear.



In this picture was my old watch team around December 2002. Our ship was on deployment so it's safe to say that we were in or around Hong Kong. We were standing the mid (7p.m until 7 a.m.) watch of a 12 on 12 off shift and even though it looks as if we're doing nothing at the time, we were actually working our asses off! From the left is Oziel, myself, my dear friend Shandra (we were reading an issue of Maxim) and Sindra's on the phone. Our radio shack was soooo cold, which is why they're wearing jackets and Oziel has the hat on. This was the best watch team that I ever had! Each one of them was smart and an expert in their specialized areas.

Mahalo

Last night, This Man was having a conversation with my friend, Ty. He was going on about why the men that he'd met online would lie about so many trivial things. He just wanted to understand their thinking.

"It's because they think that you're too stupid, " I explained. "That you're either too horny or too stupid to notice."
I imagined him doubled over in laughter.
"When a guy lies about his age online, Ty, it's because he thinks that you'll be too stupid or too horny to see that when he said he was 35, he actually meant 55. When he looks as if he's gained 20 pounds between the time that he sent you a picture of himself and the time that he shows up at your doorstep and he's hoping that you won't notice because [he thinks] that you're too stupid to notice such a thing."
I continued like this for a few minutes.
"When you see online photographs that look a little bit too perfect, it's because they're thinking that you'll be too stupid to notice. When a guy tries to invite you over for "just a massage", he's thinking that you'll be too horny or too stupid to stop him from going further. Simply put, you're...too...stupid!"

Mahalo

Remember the one day when you felt your sexiest? It maybe was that day when,--even though this may sound a bit shallow-- you looked your most attractive. It's the day when you're proudest of your physique, your skin glows, your hair does what it's supposed to and you radiate confidence. Your smile is the brightest and damn it--you just look so fucking fantastic! Even you would want to do you.
Well, a couple of days ago, This Man experienced that first hand. And while everything else going on in my life is chaotic (I'm 33, I've lost everything, I miss my son and things haven't been going according to my plans), this moment came after I'd gotten out of the shower and was getting dressed. Rather than let this moment pass, I figured I would snap some pictures of myself. There was just enough light coming into the room, but sunset was rapidly approaching so I knew that I would have to hurry (I hate taking pictures using a flash). So I suited up. I broke out my leather harness, which I hadn't worn since Leather Pride in Palm Springs last year, grabbed a leather slapper--What?! Don't act like you don't keep a leather slapper lying around your house for those spontaneous fetish spank sessions. I know I'm not the only one--so stop playing-- set the timer on my camera and snapped.
5 frames. 10 minutes total. That was all it took.
Perfect. Even if This Man says so.

I thought about cropping out the background, but the more I looked at the shots, the more I liked the grittiness of it. It's kinda raunchy, but tasteful. Kinda shocking, but erotic.
Hmmm, sounds like somebody that I know.
So here's the new picture of the day when I felt my sexiest. Here's what you don't see in that picture:
1. I'm wearing white calf socks and Adidas slip on sandals.
2. I need a hair cut.
3. I smacked the hell out of my right hand with that leather slapper.
4. I was playing music by The Killers in the background.

Mahalo

It was around 1o:30p.m. when This Man decided to go for a stroll.

It was a bit chilly outside, so I had to wear the heavy parka and hopefully it wouldn't start raining while I was out. A few blocks from University Avenue, I ran into this woman on the sidewalk on the brink of tears.
She was trying to light a blunt--with some matches!
" Here. Do you need a light?" I offered.
"My fucking daughter pisses me off!" She started after taking a strong pull off of it and instantly passing it to me. I hit it also.
"What happened?"
"My daughter...she's 19. Tonight she was with her boyfriend and I told her--I live around the corner, over near Walgreens--so I asked if her and her boyfriend could drop me off on 30th. Then, that bitch tells me, 'Mama, you can't just TELL people to do stuff for you; you have to ASK!"
While she was telling me what happened, I took a long hard pull and let the smoke fill my chest. I don't particularly like blunts, especially when rolled with unflavored tobacco paper.
"...so I just told them to stop the car and let me out. I'm so sick of her and that low-life boyfriend of hers."
That woman and This Man were sitting in front of the art galleries on Ray Street, totally unaware of the people strolling across the narrow street from us. She continued going on and on about something, but I could feel that effects of that blunt taking over.
"Well, thanks for the hit, " I told her. It was time for me to keep moving.
"Thanks for listening to me and thanks for the light." She said. I noticed that she was no longer about to cry. Hell, I imagine because she was baked.

Mahalo