“He’s just crippled any relationship that I’ve had since. I haven’t been able to really care about anybody.”
There it was. That bitter adage “too good to be true” had finally prevailed. The whole time I had been trying to figure out what, for all of this new boy’s good qualities, were his bad ones. Everyone’s got them, after all, and there’s no sense in running from this fact. His was simple and oh-so-common. In a word: Baggage.
For good qualities, he has many to speak of. Great ones, actually. He’s adventurous. He’s playful, but knows how to be serious, which is more than I can say for most of the gays I know. He likes clothes and shopping, but wants me to teach him to shoot (no, that’s not innuendo). By the way, I’ve been planning a date at the shooting range, but I’ll save that for later.
Though as we lay naked in my bed, I finally realized the truth about his previous relationship to which he had alluded many times. He wasn’t just hurt by that boy – it went much farther. In fact, I wasn’t sure he had even let this other boy go.
We all have baggage. Lord knows I do. Between the erratic hookups and relationships gone awry, I’ve got boxes, trunks, and suitcases worth. I should probably employ a bellboy, full time. As I regard myself as relatively sane, I suppose it’s how we let our baggage weigh on us that determines what we’re cut out for as we surge ahead into the romantic unknown.
As I dropped him off later that evening, we had one of those playful “one more kiss before I get out of the car” moments. Despite nearly hurling on my keyboard just now, I still find it kind of sweet. I like this boy, and I think I’ll keep him around.
So the million dollar question is this: Will I be caught suffocating under a suitcase full of bad decisions, or will I be caught comfortably naked, with him?