Gentle reader, it’s been a while, and I don’t know why. I am always better off when I share. Here’s the latest – dates with parents and children:

G. rang me up recently and had me join him for dinner with his son. We had a nice evening, went home separately. I couldn’t tell if it was a grownup “here’s how to be a man in the city” educational date for the kid, or an audition to see which of the women the kid likes. Maybe both? Maybe neither? All okay and pleasant nevertheless. I have seen him I think once since that last post, sushi again, way too many cocktails, heroic blowjob (he really is massive), uncomfortable sleepover and a giant hangover. Just saying, hanging out with the kid and going home wasn’t so bad.

Still hanging out with the boyfriend, though I’m 99% over having sex with him. Maybe we really can be friends. His parents were in town this week, and it’s his birthday today, so he had a group dinner thing and invited me. I spent most of the evening talking with his mom, whose company I really liked. She’s an artist and we chatted about her latest project and sipped wine, and it was nice.

Fireman’s still my #1 fave, he’s been working shifts downtown so I get to see him more often again. I’ve no idea how long I’ll be able to keep this up but I’m in for the full ride as long as it lasts.

No newbies on the horizon. I should probably work on that. Re-reading the above, all I’ve really got going on is Fireman, and that is too sporadic to sustain me. I’ve been daydreaming about having him move in, or needing some paperwork technicality to get married, something that makes this important or official or whatever. I should be careful with that.

Oh and I’m a tiny bit obsessed with this beautiful 27 yr old Puerto Rican man I volunteer with. I want to find a beautiful girl for him and be godmother to their babies. Okay, I really just want to fuck him, but since that’s bordering on creepy, maybe I should find out if he has an uncle or something.

So in truth, dear reader, this update simply means nothing at all has changed.

I sort of have a boyfriend. We agreed we’d keep things casual but I don’t know what that means. He’s not seeing anyone else and i haven’t since this started. Well, okay, the fireman once, but that was early on. We went away together for the July 4th weekend, we go on actual dates, and we’re also okay running into each other and not going home together. He’s also a local at my bar (open again! yay!), which both of us swore we’d never do, but here we are. Still seeing each other. He’s only 35, which makes me nervous, and I don’t know if he knows how old I am. It’s now been long enough I don’t want to bring it up, but what if he doesn’t and it’s weird? My birthday is coming up soon so I guess it’ll come up then.

G. got in touch last week after months of no contact. I asked the girls at the hair salon about dating other people. Amanda said I should do what makes me happy which is, of course, the only answer.

We hadn’t communicated well the past few days, so I agreed to G.’s date, but I’m going to cancel. Last night I went over to the boyfriend’s place and we had amazing, caring, beautiful sex. Napped and then fucked again. He didn’t sleep well, got up eventually and went to the couch. I felt a bit bereft and ended up leaving early, around 6, to come home. Nevertheless, it was a lovely night, and I don’t think I want to see G. tonight. I’m going to lie and put it off, defer a decision instead of making one. It’s cowardly but I want to keep my options open.

In love with a 27 year old. That is all.

I love my bar. Really, truly, I love my bar. I remember one night last year looking around and I barely knew any of them but I thought: yep, these are my people. And it turns out I was right. These are my people, and I love them. It’s a special place and I am glad to have them as my friends.

A brief recap: Kyle flaked on a date over Chinese New Year’s, I got mad, swore I was breaking up. Made up that Tuesday (played hooky again from work to see him) and he proposed. I said yes even though I knew as I was saying it that there was at best a 50/50 chance he was serious. Oh and he told me he was having a baby in May with his ex. I actually think that’s kind of cool — I do love babies, and I don’t want to make any. Kind of seemed like a good deal.

On again off again. Another broken date, another few days of not hearing from him. Saw him briefly, again on his schedule, then another broken promise, haven’t heard from him since Friday.

This time I’m not mad. I’ve decided he has a lot going on his life, clearly more than he’s willing to share right now, and he’s not mature enough to deal with it well. I’m going to give him the space to figure it out and if he pulls through, great, and if not, I’m not going to wrap up my self identity or my well being in it.

I realized that he acts like a married man: he won’t let me visit him at home, he seems like he has no control over his schedule, he won’t stay over. Maybe he’s still living with the ex?

In any case, I do wish he was capable of sharing. Or communicating in any way. But he can’t.

So I’m not staying faithful unless he can pull it together to see me more regularly. My fireman texted today and I’m going to see him tomorrow. And I’m not telling Kyle, whether we get or stay together or not.

So a couple of days after the birthday date, C. texts and I come dashing home from Soho to meet him, on his way back from Brooklyn. Oh! beard grown out from days on vacation, he looks cuter and older. Like the other day, immediate molestation in the hallway. I’m naked before I know what’s what. But joy! I come with him easily, effortlessly. He comes in my mouth. We lie there and chat for a while, fuck a second time. He’s brought condoms this time so he doesn’t have to worry about pulling out. I don’t enlighten him to the fact that it doesn’t matter. He’s a complete knucklehead but I really do like him.

So I saw G. the other night and we had the most loving, tender sex I may have ever had. I went over, we had a couple of drinks, went to bed. He cupped one hand around my buttocks and with the other stroked me – was physically very insistent that I have an orgasm, no faking it, not going to let up until I did. That doesn’t sound very loving, but it was, truly, and I think partly because he held me so close the whole time. I tried to arouse him, but as is often the case at night, he wasn’t erect, so we fell asleep. And like magic, he wakes up with a giant hard-on and fucks me in the approaching dawn. It was just lovely. After, we lay there with my head on his chest and he lightly stroked my back and face for a long time. I wouldn’t have moved for the world.

I did break things off with J2, who didn’t handle it well. So much for the ‘this isn’t a relationship’ pre-discussion. He wants to get together to talk about it. Like I want to talk. I said yes just to end the conversation but something tells me when Tuesday rolls around I’ll be busy.

I also broke things off with Tex. Chatted with C; turns out he’s still actively married. That, my friend, should have been my choice to enter into. Bullshit that he’d lie about it. He doesn’t even have the decency to ask to talk about it (and yes, in this case, I think he should). Funny, though, I’m not that resentful. Just kind of over it.

I did not confess anything to the beautiful boy. It’ll end soon enough; why hurry things along? In addition to the age difference, he comes from a very different world, and one in which I’ll never be comfortable, so I think I’ll just enjoy our little trysts and stop falling in love.

G. still texts often, sending pics of his son and places they’re traveling. I don’t imagine a future there, either, but as long as we’re both single, it’s a nice thing.

Newest boy, M., was supposed to be a one-time thing. A local from my local pub, he was leaving town to go to graduate school; we went out on his last night in town, ended up (big surprise) in my bed. Fucked most of the night but I have to say, not really my type in bed. A little too something, I’m not sure what. I kind of thought that was that, but he’s been back several weekends already and keeps wanting to get together. I wonder how many times I have to say no before he figures it out. I don’t like fucking men from my local — too close to home. I only did it because I thought he was leaving. Fuck.

So here I am, 47 years old, dropping lovers and still looking for love.

My own mother, who’s never said a word about me not ever being married, finally did. I got ordained so I can officiate at marriages legally – mostly on a lark, partly so I can marry friends who said they wanted me to. Mom comes out with ‘well I guess if you won’t get married on your own you can at least marry other people.’ Knocked the wind out of me. She’s the sweetest person on earth, though, so later when she came and apologized, I lied and told her it was okay. I mean, does she think I want to be alone? or that I’m incapable of finding love? I truly hope that’s not true.

I am more than a little in love with the beautiful boy. I do understand that there’s no future here but — like the French boy earlier — he has helped me clarify what I want. I want him, just a decade or two older. In the meantime, I’m dropping the others. Spent Saturday with J2 and not sure if he realizes it, but it was our last. I can’t do it any more. I’ll break it off with Tex, too, either actively or passively by being unavailable. G. might not even notice. Seriously, I’d rather give them all up to focus on the beautiful boy, even knowing that he might end it the moment I confess my real age. Which, by the way, I’m going to do this week before I go traveling. It’ll give him some time to figure out if he wants to continue it or not. So I might come back to zero boyfriends, and I’m okay with that. I have loved all this attention, but it’s time to focus.

I want love. I want love. I want love.

There’s no getting around the fact that I need to mark this day. Part of me feels like it’s just a cry for attention — I mean, really, it was 24 years ago, and we weren’t even together at the time. Isn’t this really just a way of making it about me?

No. I’m sorry, but no. I’m allowed a day to grieve and acknowledge the loss. I watched my friend lose his sanity over the course of months (probably longer, but it was so visible those last few months). He truly thought the end of the world was coming, and that his sacrifice would somehow prevent it. He poured gasoline on himself and lit the match. That was yesterday, and the beginning of the longest day. Today marks the day he finally died.

Should I stay home? go out? be alone? with friends? eat? drink? fast? there are no good answers, because there are no right answers. No one, I’m sure, acknowledges this day other than me and his family. Does Rebekah remember? I want to call but I won’t ask. If she doesn’t, surely that’s healthier than me, sitting here, 24 years later, grieving the loss of my friend and my dream of first love.

I wish I could call Kae or Laura or Geoff or Don and talk to them today. I know they know what day it is. But it can’t possibly help them to know that I remember it, too. So I’ll stay home, so I don’t cry in public, and I’ll write this note to acknowledge both publicly and anonymously, I miss my friend. I still feel regret that I couldn’t help more.

And then, grace willing, I’ll wrap it back up in the box, lovingly and carefully, and I’ll put it back on the shelf until next year. Maybe that’ll be the year it stays there until I go get it again, instead of slipping down around the first signs of spring.

I love you, Steve. I always will.