I anticipate the evening ahead. We will go for supper at this new place we are talking about. The meal will go by quite quickly, you won't like the décor, the clientele will be a bit too sloppy, or the food will be too spicy. Any excuse to get out of there, no point in sitting around. Then we'll go for our walk and you'll notice some nice bums here and a nice window display there.
These streets all look the same, we've walked down these roads countless times, but you say the gay life on the street gives you energy. Not too much though, just a sip here and there, enough to have a sample until our next venture.
"So, what do you enjoy? I mean the other night you mentioned that you didn't really like it when the men you're having sex with are focusing just on you."
"Well, it makes me feel like they are expecting something from me."
"It reminds you of commitment." I respond.
"I don't like to waste me time. I know what I like and what I want, so there really isn't much need for all this extra work."
"Work. Everything seems like a job to you. I sometimes wonder if you remember how to relax. Do you ever stop to take things in? I mean really take things in? Savour them? I've never seen you take longer than fifteen minutes to eat a meal. I have to wonder if you taste your food. If you appreciate the texture, the taste of the spices, the smell of it all."
"There isn't much point really, it all winds up in the same place. There's only so much you can take from a meal."
Pause. You start putting your shoes on by the door. "I'm going to be right down!" I hear yelled from the upstairs bedroom. I put on my shoes and jacket, sitting for a minute in the chair. We head out to the truck and the three of us leave for supper.