“On the floating, shapeless oceans
I did all my best to smile
Till your singing eyes and fingers
Drew me loving into your eyes.

And you sang ‘Sail to me, sail to me; Let me enfold you.’
Here I am. Here I am, waiting to hold you.” *

He came out of nowhere this kid. I mean seriously. There he was one day, like he plopped out of the sky with 80’s vinyl in one hand and an Atari joystick in the other.

I thought it was fate. Like how people are always telling you that it happens when you least suspect it. That’s it when you are NOT looking for someone in your life when you usually stumbling across Mr. Right.

So I thought, you know, maybe this is it. I mean, what would you think? 80’s vinyl for chrissakes!

Thing is, I am mutable by nature. Like water. I’m all about the immediate sphere of influence. This has been both a curse and a gift throughout my life. I’m still struggling with it.

So I get caught up in this idea of him. I have Voices, yeah, and they tell me otherwise but I struggle with them too. Because I want to believe in him. I want to believe it is MY TIME and all that.

And those damn records, man. He called out to me like a siren on a far away island.

“Did I dream you dreamed about me?
Were you here when I was full sail?
Now my foolish boat is leaning,
Broken love lost on your rocks.

For you sang, ‘Touch me not, touch me not, come back tomorrow.’
Oh my heart, oh my heart shies from the sorrow.” *

But the truth of the matter is this.

While as far as toilet humor and musical tastes go we are practically soul mates, on matters of intimacy and sexuality we couldn’t be more different. His explanations for his celibacy amounted to guilt around sex. I am talking paralyzing shame.

And while I am not opposed to building a relationship with someone who isn’t as ... let’s say ... intouch with their sexuality as I am; I am hardly qualified to be anyone’s psychiatrist. And I make this comparison after some serious prodding and well thought out questions on the matter.

I walked away with the perception that this was not something he was necessarily into working on right now. He made statement s like “I’m fine with sex not being a part of my life.” When I pressed further with “But you chase after guys (me, anyway) and you say you want a relationship, right? So how do you think that’s gonna work with the whole ‘no sex’ thing?

I mean seriously, how does that make sense? You want to be a relationship but you expect the guy to be satisfied with the occasional wank job that will undoubtedly end with you crying behind a locked bathroom door?

And let’s not even even mention the fact that a mere three cocktails has the kid grabbing at my cock in the middle of a night club. Kind of blows that whole “I don’t really want sex” line.

He just sort of shrugs it off. Like he’s not even willing to consider the inherent conflict in his statement. How he says one thing and wants another.

It’s infuriating I tell you. My patience with this is all but gone.

“I'm as puzzled as a newborn child.
I'm as riddled as the tide.
Should I stand amid the breakers?
Or shall I lie with death my bride?

Hear me sing: ‘Swim to me, swim to me, let me enfold you.’
Here I am. Here I am, waiting to hold you.” *

Above all else, one thing became apparent. The kid is young. He needs to sort this stuff out and I am just not the person to hold his hand through this process. I am a grown ass man for chrissakes. I paid my dues, haven’t I?

And besides, the absolute ignorance he has about his own sexuality and the way he seems to champion it like some sort of badge of honor – well truth be told it is the ULTIMATE TURN OFF for me.

I’m just not down with someone who has so much of themselves locked away like that. Going about there daily business like nothing’s wrong. I just can’t do it.

I feel like it was a dirty trick. Like the siren and her beautiful voice calling out to the sailors lost at sea, ultimately leading them to their death.

I feel like the part of me that spent most of my life trying to mold myself into whatever I thought some dumb guy wanted me to be is being preyed upon.

Like there is a reason for this. To see if I’ve paid attention to my patterns. Learned my lesson.

Because the old me would have thought him tortured and poetic. The old me would have sacrificed my own needs for his. I would have seen a romance instead of a train wreck.

But not anymore. I know what you are trying to say, universe. I read you loud and clear.

* Lyrics from "Song to the Siren" by Tim Buckley