Walk with Me
I felt so good. In his bed and in his arms I was every word that I had longed to be nearly all my life. I was comfortable, protected and cared for. When I rolled over to look at him my eyes sparkled at this black diamond that lay next to me. Then, in a matter of seconds I felt a sharp pain induced by guilt. This man was a jewel and I was a thief. I had taken, or had been given, something that did not belong to me. The memory of that moment and of that morning, Sunday June13, 2004 will forever remain implanted in my mind. It was the morning after.
Saturday, June 12 is when I met Langston. I was out of town for a few days catching my breath and soaking up the California sun. I’d been invited to a garden party by a colleague and couldn’t refuse his offer to taste the LA social scene. My eyes weren’t let down by the visions that surrounded me and in such an open and welcoming atmosphere as this venue neither was spirit. Though a distant traveler I found several familiar faces and made light conversation with them as I made my way around and met new people. Finally, I was introduced to a tall, dark and handsome man – what so many dream of – who I felt some gentle connection with. He went about his business and I went about mine. Minutes later I knew what or rather who our connection was. This guy was actually a friend of one of my dearest friends.
I decided that I would approach this fellow again and share knowledge of our mutual friend. This time, our conversation went unbothered by outsiders and the gentle connection turned into chemistry. His voice was smooth and baritone. His speech was poetic. And I named him Langston.
That evening took on a life of its own. We didn’t leave the party together but by fate or sheer coincidence we found ourselves enjoying each others company again later that night. He was certainly a special man and he also made and still does make me feel special. He does so in a way that no other has yet to accomplish. That is part of why I have grown so fond of Langston. But as my mother would say, everything that is good ain’t good for you. It took me a while but I finally realized my feelings for Langston weren’t best for me. So he and I have been nurturing a delicate relationship particularly over the last eight or nine months. It gets even more delicate when he asks me to do it.
It being walk him through the day we met. I spoke with him tonight and after an hour of talking about life, work, our week ahead and even my birthday next month – he asked me. I admit I enjoy retelling the story and filling it with glorious and intricate details of events and emotions. It brings a smile to my face and hope to my heart, though no longer hope that one day Langston and I will be together. It is what it is. But rather that one day someone will make me feel special again, the way Langston does, only this time someone that can be mine.
But why Langston asks me to retell the story of that day I don’t know. I don’t know what he gets out of it, perhaps for him too it is a time he likes to reminisce about. For all I know he just wants to be there again for just a second – recapturing the innocence of the matter, or...
Nevertheless, for now at least, I’ll continue to walk him through that day and somehow he and I will walk each other through all the rest.
Saturday, June 12 is when I met Langston. I was out of town for a few days catching my breath and soaking up the California sun. I’d been invited to a garden party by a colleague and couldn’t refuse his offer to taste the LA social scene. My eyes weren’t let down by the visions that surrounded me and in such an open and welcoming atmosphere as this venue neither was spirit. Though a distant traveler I found several familiar faces and made light conversation with them as I made my way around and met new people. Finally, I was introduced to a tall, dark and handsome man – what so many dream of – who I felt some gentle connection with. He went about his business and I went about mine. Minutes later I knew what or rather who our connection was. This guy was actually a friend of one of my dearest friends.
I decided that I would approach this fellow again and share knowledge of our mutual friend. This time, our conversation went unbothered by outsiders and the gentle connection turned into chemistry. His voice was smooth and baritone. His speech was poetic. And I named him Langston.
That evening took on a life of its own. We didn’t leave the party together but by fate or sheer coincidence we found ourselves enjoying each others company again later that night. He was certainly a special man and he also made and still does make me feel special. He does so in a way that no other has yet to accomplish. That is part of why I have grown so fond of Langston. But as my mother would say, everything that is good ain’t good for you. It took me a while but I finally realized my feelings for Langston weren’t best for me. So he and I have been nurturing a delicate relationship particularly over the last eight or nine months. It gets even more delicate when he asks me to do it.
It being walk him through the day we met. I spoke with him tonight and after an hour of talking about life, work, our week ahead and even my birthday next month – he asked me. I admit I enjoy retelling the story and filling it with glorious and intricate details of events and emotions. It brings a smile to my face and hope to my heart, though no longer hope that one day Langston and I will be together. It is what it is. But rather that one day someone will make me feel special again, the way Langston does, only this time someone that can be mine.
But why Langston asks me to retell the story of that day I don’t know. I don’t know what he gets out of it, perhaps for him too it is a time he likes to reminisce about. For all I know he just wants to be there again for just a second – recapturing the innocence of the matter, or...
Nevertheless, for now at least, I’ll continue to walk him through that day and somehow he and I will walk each other through all the rest.
posted by ClayStarr at 3:52 AM
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