Loneliness can drive a person bonkers. I mean, look at all the cat ladies of the world. Much like those feline lovin’ females, I found myself taking in a stray. No, not a pussy - I’m allergic. I took in boy.
Philip, my ex-crush and current bestie, had torn the meniscus in one of his knees. For you and me this wouldn’t really be that big of a deal, but for Philip it is his lifeblood. He is a dancer and uses his legs for more than just putting them behind his head. Since he now lives in Portland, Oregon, he needed a place to crash so he could feign New York residency to qualify for free surgery at a dancer’s clinic. Since I am such a good friend, I allowed him to crash on my couch.
Having an ex-crush as a friend is fine when you see them on occasion. Having an ex-crush sleeping on your couch for two months, after not dating and being alone for sometime, well that is a horse of another color.
To be honest it really wasn’t that bad. There was only one time that really drove me over the edge. I woke up one morning and he wasn’t there. He found a little something that evening and at first I thought I was upset. But then I wasn’t sure if I was just jealous of him for getting some. Other than that minor glitch, I found myself enjoying our time together. I always had someone to do something with. I had someone to calm my nerves during hurricane Sandy. It was almost like we were playing house except that we kept our peckers in our pants. I guess we were not unlike most couples that suffer from LBD (lesbian bed death).
During his stay, I tried to set up a date or two with some other boys. After a cancelation, I found that I didn’t even want to try anymore. I would rather go home and hang with someone that I know would make me smile - even though he left crumbs on my couch cushions. Don’t get me wrong; it’s not that I gave up on sex completely. I had to rely on afternoon delights because Philip was at my place all the time. But they stopped being as fulfilling as they once were, so I even gave up on those after a while.
Wait! Oh. My. God. I have been domesticated! The thing of it is, is much like Margret White when she was taken with the stink of filthy roadhouse whiskey on her lover’s breath - “I liked it. I LIKED IT!”
This slight stint of domestication has made me realize what I really want. A husband! If I am a really, really, really good boy, maybe Santa will bring me one for Christmas.