Peter is in LA (again) and drunk (again) and calling me (again). We’re reviewing our notes from the event in Phoenix. He and I were bad dogs.
I’m trying to explain to Peter how this gay NSA thing works. You meet someone, likely in a random situation, have some chemical attraction, a little light conversation, sleep with them, get up the next morning, act like you don’t know that person, leave and never see them again. “That’s seriously f*cked up”, Peter replies.
Yes it is. Tim has counseled me that what happened with my Hawaiian friend was a pure NSA situation. He characterized my weekend with Chris in Cologne as a “mini-romance”. He admitted he didn’t like NSA stuff either but that it was certainly an ego booster. I must admit landing Mr. Hawaiian Punch was a bit of a boost, but leaving the next morning was kinda of unfulfilling.
But reality, NSA is really all I can be about. Perhaps there’s an answer there. I have a bad feeling in my roaming around, I am going to run into someone I really like and who likes me back where some level of understanding takes place and this will lead to the ultimate crack in this dam I’ve created.
I know this is dishonest. It’s what cheating married men do. They don’t leave their wives, until they’ve secured another partner. But I can see this happening and can understand why. I never said I was noble.