I love boys.
take that however you wish.
the boys I love are not the manliest of men – apologies to those who think they are.
not that they’re girly [well - most of them aren't]. if they play softball, no doubt it’s to impress their kids. and if you find them fixing anything mechanical, rest assured it’s something that doesn’t belong to them.
but my guys, my boyfriends… I love ‘em.
after a lifetime of trying to impress, to be cool and know things others don’t – but should, I’m finally resting comfortably in what I love.
my boys bein’ one of them.
most nights, I take lots of time making dinner, pick a bottle of wine and walk upstairs to a hard drive full of Boston Legal. see, that’s a show about men-loving-men, and there’s not a night on the balcony when I don’t wish for being able to do that with my friend Tim, drinking and laughing about things others might find not funny. the occasional discussion about girls, religion or the adverse affects of Tramadol. a nightly celebration of friendship.
a long, long time ago, there were 3 friends, friends I loved so much that I had no problem walking in-between them holding onto their arms. I liked it. I think they did too – save for the few weeks I had a sarong-fetish.
even Ryan, my high-school b.f.f. and I, seemed to be hugging in every photo as well – when we weren’t running around naked… raise an eyebrow if you will, but I love any male friend who doesn’t mind dropping normal guidelines we’re meant to follow.
[eyes still straight-ahead when making a public #1 though - man's got to have some sort of principles]
but boys.
my boys.
boys like Tim and the 2 former pals and Ryan
… I love my boys.
this morning, I was blue. it doesn’t happen much. but sometimes it does. another boyfriend of mine, Adam, had, a few days prior, sent me an email with some questions about some things. I didn’t have time to write him back then, but this morning, as Leonard Cohen tried to convince me that even guys like him have problems, I wrote Adam back. my answers had nothing to do with his questions. it had nothing to do with my blues. it really just had to do with Leonard.
see, had it been a girl I was writing, my admittance of listening to Leonard might earn me an ‘awwwww, honey’ or ‘how sweet’ or something that could be said during hugging or need to be italicized… which is nice.
but it wasn’t what I needed today.
Adam, on the other hand, will know exactly what I’m going through by my early-morning admittance of having Leonard Cohen on. I don’t need to tell him it’s ‘Ten New Songs’, because, well, he could probably know that by the hour of the email I sent him. he might write me back about me, him, the blues, Leonard or something entirely different… it doesn’t really matter – not when you reach out to the boys.
these boys of mine are hand-picked. and they’re good. they’re my boys.
so, go ahead with your high-fives and tequila shots, your quotes from The Hangover and button-up shirts. if that’s where you find your need during the random blues, but me – I’m gonna go love on my boys.
putting my and Tim’s face on Denny Crane and Alan Shore.
and responding to Adam’s questions with album answers.
stuff like that.
’cause, let’s be honest…
Leonard never wrote a song about light beer.
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