run while you can

Yo! Brando! My boy!

NAMBLA member, right here.

Is it possible to fall in love with a specific part of another’s body? Of course it is, for better or worse. And I am not talking about drooling over breasts or misguided penis-envy. No.

Three years ago. Little more maybe. I was sitting with a longtime friend of mine in a stranger’s dormitory room. The room was quite magnificent actually. The bunks were perfectly constructed by a father’s hands. They rested above and around us. The beds had lights and decorations hanging from them. A very unique place, I’ve been in few like it since. But I digress. From the window of this dormitory it was possible to view my respective housing tower. And that night, out the window, fire trucks encircled my building.

Now, at this point  in my life I was conditioned to routine fire drills, however, this was no routine evacuation. Most noticeably, there were many more trucks. Furthermore, unlike normal drills in which students walked causally outside, residents swarmed across the street.

This night, having been a Friday, found me quite intoxicated. The culprit was a big boy box of Keystone Light. Many of us had worked to finish the box. There was a strange camaraderie in that respect, well, beyond just being collectively drunk. Anyway. Given my current condition and the highly-likely dorm-inihilating fire, I decided to go back to my room. Naturally. Man versus flame style. Caveman putting his creation back its box.

No. I wasn’t macho at all back then. I am still far from it. Chin ups everyday though. Again, I digress.

My decision was mostly fueled by curiosity. There was nothing masculine about it, unlike pop culture may reflect. And, of course, I had yet to read White Noise at this point.

The crowd kept me from getting very far. But in this mix I ended up standing near a girl that I recognized. Either she had smiled at me or I had smiled at her. I obviously hoped for both.

Finally back to my original point. She was beautiful by all standards, but it was only her eyes that concerned me. They always looked  wet. Not as in teary, but as in full of life.

Any adult might read sexual overtones here, and maybe that’s for the better. But I tell you: I have not been able to get those eyes out of my mind’s eye this entire time. That night, during which no fire was ever located, the girl with the eyes introduced herself to me. Had I not been so dense or self-loathing at the time, I might have realized that she actually had an interest in me. In me. Of all people. And I looked different back them.

Squirrelly-looking-bastard

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s