Fireworks

I feel like I’ve been smacked with a two-by-four.

In a good way. I think.

When I wrote last night’s entry, I had a very slight fever, and I was going to just sit at home and surf the Web and take it easy. So I read part of Sunday’s New York Times online… got caught up on my MetaFilter reading… and I wandered into the chat rooms.

I saw a name I’d never seen before. He was in Jersey City. There was no photo, but his stats looked appealing: he was my age, not much taller than me, ex-frat guy. Hmmm.

I opened up a window with him and said hi. About a minute went by, and then I got an unusually (for chat rooms) friendly and polite response: something like, “Hey dude, I’m really sorry but I’m kind of busy chatting with an old friend right now… can we chat later?” I said sure thing, no problem, talk to you later. I figured I was getting the brush-off.

A while later I was in the chat room again and he reappeared. In the public window I said hi to him, and then, to my surprise, he opened up a window with me. He apologized again, I said it was okay. We chatted for a while. He was intelligent with a dry wit — both good things in my book. It turned out he lived four blocks away from me. It was after midnight. My fever had pretty much disappeared. And I was sort of horny.

He told me that he was on his way into Manhattan to go to a piano bar. He asked if I’d like to join him. But singing showtunes with a stranger wasn’t really something I was prepared to do at that point in the evening. So I politely declined.

We continued chatting for a while, and he asked what I was up to. I told him not much. We chatted for a while longer, and eventually he decided that it was probably too late to go to a piano bar.

He asked if I’d like to meet up. I said sure. We decided to meet in front of this bar/restaurant around the corner from my apartment.

Here it was, Saturday night, a quarter to two in the morning, and I was showering and changing in order to go out and meet a guy.

He showed up, and he was pretty cute. Clear, tanned skin. Nice arms, nice legs, nice eyes.

The bar looked very crowded and very straight, so we decided to skip it and tried to think of other places to go. After a very short and half-hearted attempt to think of places that might still be open, he suggested we just go hang out at his apartment.

That was totally fine with me.

He fixed us a couple of drinks and turned on some music.

There was an armchair and a loveseat. I sat down on one end of the loveseat. When he sat down on the other end, I figured that was a good sign.

We talked, and talked, and talked, and talked. He’s a pretty masculine guy. An ex-fratboy who’s into showtunes. I thought that was cute. He’s only been out for about two months, but he’s no gay novice.

He’s a corporate guy with libertarian politics. Wait, didn’t I just meet one of those a few days ago? What’s going on here? But unlike my date from the other night, this guy’s a big fan of Bill Clinton. He won points for that.

At some point his leg brushed against mine. We kept talking. Then his hand grazed against my hand. We kept talking. Then we were holding hands, and I stroked his palm with my fingers. We kept talking.

I leaned over to get my driver’s license out of my wallet so he could see what I looked like before the goatee. When I settled back against the couch, his arm was there, and it went around my shoulders. Then mine went around his. We kept talking.

Shortly thereafter, sometime after 4 in the morning, we stopped talking and started kissing.

Fireworks.

Eventually, we made our way to the bedroom. Things continued.

Amazing. Incredible.

I hadn’t felt like this in ages.

Several times he said, “I don’t want this to be a one-night stand.” I told him I didn’t either. And I was pretty sure of it. He kept telling me how cute he thought I was. I told him he was too. And he was.

We exchanged witty and sly remarks.

Finally, at around 7 in the morning, we were wiped out. It was light outside. We cuddled up together underneath the covers and closed our eyes.

When was the last time I’d spent the night with someone? February, but that kinda sucked, so really January. More than six months ago.

This felt wonderful.

I’ve lived in Jersey City for nine months and this guy has lived four blocks away from me the whole time.

I couldn’t sleep.

I started to feel a faint undercurrent of panic. Um, wait. Do I really want a relationship yet? I say that I do, but do I really? It’s all fine and dandy until it actually happens. I mean, my life is kind of quirky. I haven’t turned on my TV in more than two months. I don’t even have cable. My refrigerator’s practically empty. I barely have any spending money. My job is about to end and I don’t know what’s going to happen next. Meanwhile, he’s a corporate guy who owns his own apartment at age 27. How can I keep up?

And I don’t know all that much about him yet. And what about the date from the other night who seems to like me? Do I toss him aside now? And I have another personal-ad-initiated date with someone on Monday night, someone I’m not all that enthusiastic about meeting anyway. Do I still go on that date? What if this guy lying next to me in bed wants to become a couple already? My longest relationship was two months. Well, there was a four-month long-distance relationship a year and a half ago, too, but that was different. I don’t have too much experience. And I promised myself that the next time, I’d be more careful, I’d move more slowly.

I realized that it was exactly two years ago that I’d met Biosphere Boy. Exactly two years. To the day.

I desperately wanted to blog.

I couldn’t sleep at all. Hours went by.

Finally it was about 11 in the morning. We cuddled again. Smooth, soft, warm skin. And he liked my body. We cuddled so deeply, so tenderly. But he didn’t want to kiss anymore.

I guess he doesn’t like morning mouth. That’s unfortunate, because kissing is, like, my favorite thing in the world, morning mouth or no.

It was hard for us to make eye contact, too.

At noon he had to get up and go into the office, so I had to leave. There was something weird about our interactions. Slightly stilted, slightly embarrassed, slightly unsure of ourselves, maybe.

We exchanged phone numbers. Hugged. A big, long hug.

I came home.

I need sleep.

Months go by without any dating prospects, and then two of them appear within days of each other.

What is God trying to do?

I’m confused. Very confused. What happened last night? What will happen? I don’t know. This is all too weird.

Move slowly. Move slowly. Move slowly.