No longer as truthful as should be deserved, some names, places and events deliberately vague to protect identities that aren't mine

Monday, 28 June 2010

When you're smiling, your body apparently decides to fuck up to compensate

Well recent times have been surreal...

After my last day in NYC I headed up north to New England. I caught the train to New Haven, which meant I got to go from Grand Central, so yey, and was picked up by Terence who had driven 2 hours to come get me. The plan was go up and see Terence for a few days and get time with him, before he drove us both over to my friend Patrick's on Cape Cod for 4th July weekend. Terence was trying so fucking hard bless him. When we were talking about what day I was coming up he was saying how he wanted to take me out in Boston for the night, he wanted to take me out with his friends and have me meet them. Like I say, he's trying so damned hard. And it's really sweet.

So after he picked me up we went out to Boston, and he bought me lunch, and took me to see Toy Story 3, and paid for drinks and entrance to House of Blues' gay night. And I got hyped up on Vodbulls and danced like crazy. The scene of the night then developed as follows:

Having been taken out by the american boy I'm in love with, spent a good hour on the dancefloor with my fingers up some boy's ass whilst he had my dick out of my pants jerking me off, whilst terence danced/flirted/pulled the boy he's currently interested, me terence and his boytoy ended up back at the boytoy's house, where I watched the two of them fall in love with each other over shisha and some late night half drunken hazed deep and meaningful conversations about life the universe etc. And I had a big grin on my face about it the entire time. And when I went to sleep on the couch whilst Terence and boytoy went to bed together, I knew I was doing exactly what the universe had planned for me at that moment, and I was smiling about it.

To the British sentiment, Terence is loud, obnoxious, coarse, abrasive, the fairly typical bad example of an American. By American standards he's actually fairly reasonable, but Brits won't get on with his personality a lot, I get that, he's your standard jock boy with all that that entails, and I understand why other people won't necessarily get on with him. It's been 4 months since I saw him last, not a huge time to be fair, and yes, we've spoken most days inbetween, but Terence, and Jack, because of the circumstances surrounding them, always leave me with a slight nagging doubt that maybe I don't love them as much as I thought I did, maybe I got in over my head, maybe absence makes the heart grow fonder, it forgets the bad and embellishes the good. So its always an amazing feeling, when I do see either of them, that I find myself seeing all of the reasons I love them all over again, and my mind hasn't made anything up, it hasn't inflated things, this person really is that amazing as far as I'm concerned.

Terence is dark, and twisted, and broken, and fucked up, and horny, and a bad boy that you have to accept will screw around, and hurt you, and generally be an asshole, or its going to be doomed. He also has such a big heart; he's so compassionate and caring. He spends 20 hours a week looking after disabled kids. He'll make one hell of a kick-ass nurse, the kind that will make you laugh when you're gonna die of cancer in the next 2 days. He's sweet and does little, simple things that show just how much he cares. He went to the store and came back with giant bottle of moutain dew which i hadn't asked for, cause he remembers me saying I love the stuff the other day. He bought chocolate or flowers home for his ex when they were together, just to let the boy know he'd thought about him in the day. He'd rather pull 3 sickies and spend 3 days in bed, than book time off work and go on some romantic trip somewhere. For all my cynicism and realism and practicalities, there's a little drama queen in me. early 20th century style. hollywood style. When I storm out the building and go running off down the street all I really want is for you to run after me, turn me around, pull me into you and kiss me. And thhe music would start playing in my head and I'd forget and forgive whatever the hell it was I'd stormed off about in the first place. I know its stupid and fucked up and ridiculous, and I might see this boy once a year if I'm lucky. But being here just reinforces the point. I really fucking love him. Just to see him interact with people shows me why. And the way he interacts with me; I don't even have to ask myself how he feels about me.

That said, the universe isn't without a sense of irony, even when I spend a night catering to its whims. Having run off from my home country, my fiance, my best friends, all of it, for 6 weeks to jolly off round the US, and met up with the boy I'm in love with, the universe decided now would be a fucking brilliant 3 days for medical issues to flare up, and my ddigestive system to stop functioning. Which stops me from actually having sex with the randy-assed dirty as hell boy I'm with. Fuck you Karma. You made your point. Now piss off or I WILL find a way to destroy you somehow.  Frustration, annoyance, anger, do not begin to cover it.

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