I’M pretty…
I mean, pretty traditional.
You kiss me, I expect you to come back…
For more.
I mean, I can give you more than just kisses.
I know more tricks of the tongue, lips, teeth, tonsils, throat.
*
Here’s the thing: I’m okay with the idea that boys less than half my age would not find me attractive.
Fine! That’s acceptable.
But once they kiss me, I think that’s crossing the line.
Why would they kiss me if they don’t find me attractive?
I mean, that’s just gross!
*
Once boys less than half my age kiss me, I expect them to like what they’re doing.
And therefore, I entertain a reasonable doubt about them not coming back. (Does that sentence mean, “I hope they come back?”)
True, they do not say, “This is amazing. I’d love to see you again.”
Oh, but sometimes, they do!
*
I do not trust boys under 25.
They may have bigger packages…
But not always.
What they have is bravado.
Swagger. Egos.
That are actually based on false notions of themselves.
*
Young boys think they’re a gift to the world.
Believe me, I know plenty of boys enough to know what I’m talking about.
Who’s that homely YouTube guy who got the surgical makeover again?
What did he have to offer to the world, really?
More than the false notion that he’s the greatest gift to something I don’t know what.
*
I mean, some boys are truly a gift to the world.
Really. Seriously.
I mean, I thought I was the greatest of God’s gift to the world until I was 22…
Then I finally realized that I made the same mistakes I did when I was 21.
And it looked like it wasn’t going to get better.
So, yeah.
Been there, done that!
*
Boys, if they’re a little sexy, often have a delusion of grandeur.
Heck, even if they don’t have a salt-pinch of sexy in them!
Just look at those prawns in the gym.
But because they’re under forty, it’s not really called megalomania.
I mean, you reserve that psychological diagnosis for successful men like me.
For such egomaniacal boys, I think the term is just “feelingero”.
*
I’m an easy guy.
You kiss me good, that’s half of the job done.
You get me naked, that’s another half.
But the whole is more than just the sum of the parts.
However big those parts are!
*
I like being a crazy guy in the newspaper.
I write this crap, and some people are entertained by it.
This column makes me powerful.
Feeds my megalomania.
I can be as feelingero and emotero as I want.
*
I mean, if the publishers and the editors think I’m not an assh*le…
I mean, an asset, I would think they’ll just keep this column space blank.
But if you’re reading this, give me a little credit, will you?
It takes guts and clout to do what I do.
*
Now, back to the boys of Spring in my backyard here in the East Coast.
I like spring rolls.
Especially those long, thick, big ones, wrappers fried or not, and all that.
I also like eggs.
I mean, egg rolls.
What’s the difference between egg rolls and spring rolls?
If I can Google it, you, too, can!
*
So, this boy of spring from the other day.
Spent the night with me.
I had Chinese food delivered, spring rolls and all.
We had a little picnic on my patio deck before we went in for some gay anime movie.
And before the visit was over, he kissed me like he meant it.
*
But it’s been three days.
He hasn’t returned my messages.
No hi, no hellos.
*
I’m not worried about him.
He’s 24. And as delusional as they come.
Thinks he’s God’s gift to humanity.
Or, at least, to me.
And maybe he is.
But I won’t admit it to him!
*
No, I’m not worried about him.
I’m worried about me!
I mean, do I entertain these other dudes who are trying to hit on me?
I mean, I like spring rolls and egg rolls.
And bed rolls, and rolls in the sack. (Or is it just roll in the hay?)
But this gets old.
*
Sure, variety is the spice of life.
That’s why it’s not important that you decide on spring rolls or egg rolls. Or bed rolls and hay rolls, and sack rolls, for that matter.
I mean, take them rolls as they come!
But I’m pushing 50.
*
I’m freaking 49. And it’s fair to assume that boys half my age will not take me seriously.
So, I’ll probably end up with one boy after another.
I mean, I’m sexy enough to attract a first date.
But I am resigned to the fact that they may not come for seconds.
That’s why I eat my spring rolls on first date!
*
I know you’ll think I’m delusional to think that I’m one sexy 49er.
But the facts are these: I attract boys less than half my age.
I invite them over. We have dinner. And if the night goes well, it goes very well.
If not, at least, I have company for a Chinese delivery picnic.
And I get a spring roll, an egg roll, or whatever roll you have in your dirty mind.
*
Most boys don’t like kissing.
Or, at least, that’s their press release.
Well, kissing is my elimination round.
I will only do things if you kiss me well.
If you kiss me good, I can close my eyes for everything else.
I mean, I’ll even tolerate food fights, if you kiss with a vengeance.
*
Unfortunately, I put a high premium to kissing.
And high expectations on boys who kiss me with a passion.
Seriously, how can you kiss someone like me so well, and not think of doing it again?
It’s not like you were doing things drunk.
Hey, wait, who finished the bottle of vodka?/PN
