Age Ain't Nothing But A Number

Men have a lot of hang ups. Especially gay men; especially black gay men. We put a lot of requirements on the type of men we'll date and most often we'll settle for whats cute in the face, hard in the body, long in the dick, wet in the ass, and a commodity among the community, rather than going with substance.
Now don't get me wrong I am superficial about certain things myself. I just hate to date a man less feminine than myself; it bothers me. Not to mention that Drag Queens and Bottoms are a major turn off for me. First of all I can't see a guy in heals and a dress climbing my back: and well as far as bottom brother goes, we can't really do anything but swap stories. And I think i may have told more than I wanted to tell in this particular blog post.
Anyway, I bring this point up; about black gay men being so picky to point out something I myself am beginning to experience. Something I have never actually experience ever before in my life, and its sort of grappling with my nerves. You all know I am sort of kind of dating a guy. (I think, to be honest with you I am not really sure what we're doing, but we're doing something!) Anyway this guy, Mr Robinson is older than myself. Which doesn't bother me at all. I have dated older men before, in fact my first experience with a guy in a serious relationship was with an older guy. He was practically, if not my mothers age. We were together for quite sometime, and at the time I was in my early twenties.
However this fact has come up twice in conversations that I have had with Mr. Robinson, and I am beginning to more than think that our age difference bothers him. I am not sure if he thinks that I am too young and unable to really commit to the type of relationship that could possibly grow between us. Or weather it is that fact that he just sees himself as too old. What ever the reason there is definitely a sort of hesitation on his part, and I think that a little part of his hesitation has to do with the nature of the gap in age difference between us.
That sort of bothers me. I think it bothers me more than anything because I am a mature individual , and I have always been a mature individual, even in my early teens I related very well with adults and men of a certain age, and quite frankly I feel offended that he is allowing my age to quite possibly detour him from pursuing what would be quite an amazing experience. This bothers me a whole hell of a lot.
Is age really that big of a deal when deciding to enter into a romantic situation with someone that your attracted to. I mean i see older men flirt with younger men in the club all the time, and they don't seemed to be bothered. After all I did look young when you first started flirting with me, and I was younger than you when you slept with me, so why is it such an issue to pursue something more permanent with me like a emotional, and mentally stimulating relationship.
Is age really an issue?

Midnight Confessions: Part #3

My feet scramble to catch up with the shadowy figures in the darkness, as my mind began to devise negotiation strategies. I knew exactly how much money I had in my pocket, and though I was hoping to retain half of the ten I had brought with me, I knew that I wasn’t willing to spend anymore than that; despite the fact that I didn’t actually know what a date would cost because I had never bought one before. Truth was, if I had gone out to the club tonight I would have spent exactly that, and the possibility of me having brought some one home was a pretty great, so why should I expect to spend anymore than that for a boy I picked up off of the street?
Still part of me wondered; was I being rational? Was my idea of a fare price the same as the man who bartered his sexual prowess? Perhaps his self worth was slightly elevated and he didn’t think that my measly little two five dollar bills was enough payment for the gift of his sexual talents? After all I wouldn’t have been so liberal with the price point of my own sexuality. I personally would have been a fairly high priced hoe, or whore. But then again, how much could their self worth really be if they were selling themselves so freely on street corners? Of course at least they had the ingenuity to sell what most men/women gave away freely.
I crossed over Cypress pass the first figure who seemed to be having a lyric war with the lap post. The words flowing from his mouth as if he were a professional hip hop Pissarro. His hands moving back and forth across his torso like he was conducting a small hip hop orchestra. His jeans hung at his hips to reveal the bare skin that lay beneath the harsh fabric of the denim. My eyes moved over his clothes, through the part in his shirt at the base of his torso, and I took in the bushel of pubic hair that stared back at me. His yammering slowed as he slowly sized me up, and he swayed back and forth so that his jeans danced dangerously on his hips. I blushed beneath the cover of my hood.
I didn’t stop, I couldn’t stop. What was I going to say to this the emperor of hip hop? He was much to intimidating for me; just little rougher around the edges than I would have preferred to pick up on the street. If we had been in a more controlled atmosphere I probably would have approached him without hesitation, but his overtly thuggish exterior gave me pause, and I would have been thinking more of my safety than of the sexual exploits that would take place between us. So I passed on him; siliently hoping that he wasn’t the last peace of merchandise left on the beat. Knowing my luck he probably was and for the same reason that I had passed him by in the first place. He had an air or danger that was probably just too much that I or anybody else was willing to take a chance on.
I swept up the street; my feet quickly moving beneath me. I was almost back to Peachtree, and my nerves were getting the best of me. Perhaps this was a bad idea? I thought to myself as my fist clenched the keys in my pocket. Then he turned the corner, and my pace slowed almost immediately. His feet beat the concrete like a snare drum, echoing through the darkness and silence. His body swayed to a soundless beat that commanded my attention, and as he swayed melodically down the side walk I felt myself being pulled into by his brand of hypnosis. His cocoa colored eyes meet mine and his lips curled up into a dirty little grin. I felt my knees getting weak beneath me. Steady yourself boy. I said softly between slow deep breaths. I let my fingers move over the bills folded up in my pocket. I felt bad for not bringing more cash as my eyes moved over the outline of his physic as he glided in and out of the darkness and the light of the street lamps above us. He was in exceptional health; from what my eyes could spy.
His shoulders spread eagle across the scoop of his back, and rounded the definitive muscular contours on his arms. I took a deep breath and straightened my posture as he passed me. My eyes never left his and his never wavered from my stair. As he passed me his shoulder brushed against mine, and I felt a surge of electricity pass between our bodies. Then I heard his voice call out too me.
To be continued…

Chances, Control, & Vulnerability

Taking control really translates into taking chances for a guy like me; especially when when it comes to men, love, & relationships. I am one of those people who always let's the guy that I am interested in have control. It's my way of being safe and allowing myself to obserb at situation, as someone recently told me.
I don't normally consider this a bad habit it's gotten me through over thus far, but it hasn't neccessarily gotten me what I wanted, nor am I always satisfied with what or whom I have ended up with in the past. And with so many changes going on in my life I don't want to wake up and ever regret what I didn't do, what didn't say, or what I didn't take a chance on because I was too scared to take control. That's not living!
Soni decided tonight that I would be bold that I would take a chance. I decided tonight that I would man up, so to speak, and take control of my emotions. For he past five days I have raving about Mr. Robinson, the man that I meet at BB's crib playing cards on thursday night. The guy is everything that I could have thought of in a man that I could possibly be attractive to. Sensitive, intelligent, sophisticated, remarkably funny, very sexual (in that he keeps up with my appetite very well), he's cocky without being an ass, and he's so sexy. Of all that he makes me feel nervous in that good sort of way that intrigue and fascination makes one feel nervous. To sum all that up; I have a thirst for him. I have a hunger for him that makes me salivate when he crosses my mind, and it's crazy how extremely hard it is to shake him from my thoughts. I want him in a way that that I can only describ as being like starvation.
It is this very desire that drove me to get up out of my bed at 9:15 pm at night to take control. I wanted him to know how I felt so I am on my way to tell him & I hope that buy taking a chance at taking control, that it shows him how vulnerable I am.


- Writing Out Loud from my iPhone

A Revelations of Life

By Rafael Solece

The last couple of days have really been sort of eye opening. Everything that has begun to happen has really got me to contemplating some things about my life. Though everything in my circle of influence, personal, and spiritual and relative to my life in general is going in an upward momentum, there have been a few days in the midst of my progression that have caused me to pause. Cause me to think; caused me to reevaluate my understanding.

Most of which have had to do with major changes in my immediate lifestyle. Like my retreat from the day to day cycle of a nine to five. Or the revelation of being in the final stages of publishing for my first novel. (Even now it still puts a smile on my face.) Not to mention the launch of my website, and the beginning of my writing career; which has leapt mounds in the last couple of days. It is all these things that have changed my mind about certain ideals that I have held close to my heart in the last year; the biggest of those ideas being living a single life style.

In the past year I have birthed many things; from new visions to new projects, and each time that life has offered me a new level of understanding I have taken it with a hungry heart. When I decided that love was fleeting, and being single was much more pragmatic I embraced it whole heartedly. It gave me an opportunity to really appreciate myself and what I had to offer. It gave me an opportunity to understand that I was a gift, and that the person that came into my life should feel honored to be with me. Most of all, that time to myself give me the time to marinate on the gifts that The Most High had blessed me with, and to grow in my understanding of what I deserve, what I am capable of, and what is deemed righteous in my eyes.

The time I spent learning, appreciating, and building myself; was magnificent time spent. But I think in that time I forgot what is was like to have someone to share the triumphs of life with. Friday I learned that the first copy of my book was due to arrive her at my home. I was excited and my heart danced in a way it hadn't danced in a long time. If I had been a cloud I would have floated into the cosmos. That's just the type of joy I felt. But as I celebrated my accomplishment, I realized that I was celebrating alone. There was no one here to be married in my joy. It is funny how accomplishment, alone means very little when it is alone.

It was in the midst of my joy that I recognized sadness in me. I wasn't lonely in the sense of being alone. In fact; Loneliness I handled extremely well. I had grown accustomed and peaceful in that state of being. I loved the solitude of having what only belonged to me. I loved the peace of living alone. I loved the solidarity of being able to come and go as I pleased. What I found bothered most: was the fact that in my joyous, ecstatic, revilant, and triumphant moments of life, there was no one to share and reveal in them with me. That made was what made me stop and think. Made reevaluate love, and relating to someone, who loved relating to me.

It was then that I begin to feel the loneliness of being without a man who quite feverishly loved me. And who I could share the relevant, joyous, accolades that the bounty of my life was offering me.