It’s 3 degrees in Chicago. Why I choose to come here for New Year’s is beyond me. Ooops .. now I remember. Brown. Mexicans. Ummmm. Come to daddy. Unfortunately, something has changed, I’m different, perhaps the newness of all this is gone and perhaps a different power of observation has taken hold. All I want is my brown TC to come home.
I was happy to be away from the gay scene and dropping into it here in Chicago, like the coldness, has been an eye opener. It’s always been there to see, only I’m seeing it in a stark reality for the first time. A sea of guys on the prowl. An emptiness to it all.
On New Year’s Eve, Prof. Tim held a party attended by a bevy of guys of all types as well as a fair share of women. The last guest leaving at 5 a.m. I was chatting with an intelligent Latino, interested in all things political, though not my type, I like a good conversation. Suddenly he asked if I would give him a tour of Tim’s house. A tour? I quickly read between the lines, he was hitting on me and wanted to go some place private. Yuck! My thoughts turned to my brown tiger, where was he tonight and why was he leaving me unprotected. Needless to say, I excused myself and circulated back amongst the group. I’m doubly married.
If you want things to different, you have to change the rules. I can’t see myself back in this scene, male hormones run a muck. If you’re looking for the special person, then stay on that mission and don’t deviate. The hardened look from queers in their early 30’s, battle worn, the freshness gone from their faces, the sparkle from their eyes long extinguished, bickering amongst their friends about who did what with whom with the occasional one night stand thrown in.
All I want is TC to come home and to stay far away from this. I’ll hide underneath the covers. The monster can’t get me, if I can’t see it.
TC is mad at me, he thinks I’m out whoring about and thus has put me into non-communication state, callng only once for 30 seconds yesterday. I’m so used to how we fight.