I believe in a thing called love
Monday night Jamie and I enjoyed bourbon and Amelia's company after our long drive up from Tennessee.
Tuesday night we went to Upland Brewery, Amelia's house, and then back to my home before going to sleep around five thirty.
Wednesday night we had a party for Greg, so bourbon all night and then beer at the Vid.
Last night was supposed to be laid-back, but at seven this morning I finally fell asleep.
It was one of those nights where you have plans, and nothing can make you change your mind, because you're tired, and have drank too much in the last three weeks, and it's just time to get on a good schedule...
So I willingly went to the "double-wide gay-bar" as my friends called it, and watched a horrificaly hilarious cheap-video of a drag-queen as Wonder Woman. I'm amused as to no matter how effeminate these men become, deep down they're still little boys who love potty-jokes.
Amelia and Kate and I decided to go to the Refuge Inn, drink Bud, and listen to Tammy Wynette and David Allen Coe.
That was a good decision.
I came home, drank another beer, and began to get situated when around midnight Joe called and invited me out with him.
We enjoyed each other more last night than we have since mid October; I'm certain of that. We played pool and laughed and drank. He had on a new shirt and my hair looked good.
So I told him about a gift I'd bought him for Christmas but hadn't decided to give to him until that very moment, so we left the bar as it closed and came back to my place to finish the wine.
Here's the conclusion: he would never date me again (and therefor more seriously than before) because of my religious beliefs. It seems as though I should be the one saying that, since I'm the one with beliefs.
This conversation came about after I told him I'm spent with looking for something stellar, and since he and I get along so well, we ought to just marry. My rationale was that when people fall in love, and that love fades, all they can hope to stand on is a good partnership, but if Joe and I just begin with a good partnership then it will all balance out in twenty-five years.
He disagreed.
But he loved his Christmas gift, and thought it was a little presumptuous of me to buy it *before* we disambiguated our relationship, but I don't care. It's perfect for him and he really enjoyed it.
I was drunk last night, and I remember little snippets of conversation, but I do remember that Joe was worried we might undo any progress, or that he might hurt my feelings. Mostly, I appreciated his forsight in knowing that waking up together is the most intimate, which is why he left at seven, so we could sleep.
As it is with most couples, though, the sexual relationship is unique from the interpersonal, and it was so nice to have his sweetest of all lips for myself, even if just for a little while, but I know it ain't him that I want.
It's January though. One month before February, when everything dead rots. I'm scared shitless of going through a February like last year's. Winter frightens me, you know.
The Matthew was a good thing, though, according to my recollection, last February, and I will always welcome what genuine warmth might come down the wire at me during that anathema month.
I don't mind one-night encounters, I just like them to be with people I can trust (because I like to laugh, and talk, and not be self-consious), and Joe is the most trustworthy fella I know in these parts.
I don't think they make them any other way out in Peoria.
So... classes begin on Monday and I will find one unique fellow to fixate on (one who is in neither of my departments) so my mind won't be so distracted by nonsense.
I need some rock'n'roll.
In other news, Ryan, the ninja I met in Brooklyn last spring is roadtripping through Indiana next week and should be stopping in. I'll probably drink with him.
