The Craft

"We are the weirdos, mister." -- Nancy

This is a continuation of my ongoing series about The Things I Have Learned From The Boys I Have Kissed. It is a jump sideways. You'll note I'm not going chronologically. This is purposeful, intentional and direct. I have ranked these kisses in order from most-important to least-important. Not that any kiss is less important than any other, Oh who am I kidding? Some kisses just matter more. This posting isn't about one kiss in particular, in fact it is about several kisses by several men in one night. Specifically, the Vernal Equinox of 2006. March 20th to give a precise date. 

There are those who have known me since 2007 that have never heard this tale. Likewise, there are those who have known me only a very short time that do know this tale. It is one that I have closely guarded for various reasons. It speaks of unwed sex, and liberal kisses. What the few who know this story don't know is that it is the first instance in Arizona in which I was truly happy and comfortable with myself, my body and my sexuality. 

It starts with a party. I had a lot of these when I lived in Arizona. my fellows Arconauts and I enjoyed our soirees. They offered a bit of a break from the daily mundanity that comes from living at the arcology. Paolo Soleri and Mary Hoadley would have you think us studious little architects building a better tomorrow, when really we were college students, pot heads, alcoholics, rapists, and the worst scum of the universe. Ok, maybe we weren't that bad, but we got close from time to time. You'd be amazed at what happens when a group of ecologically-minded twenty-somethings start to consume alcohol and dance in an enclosed space. 

On this particular night, I was given the task of manning the bar. Trading kisses for shots of tequila and brief makeout sessions for mixed drinks, I took advantage of the situation and exerted power over the boys I most lusted for. The most important people this night were Franklin and Sun. Franklin was a boy with a girlfriend. Specifically, a girlfriend that I worked with on a daily basis and who loathed it when I would spend time with her significant other. I had always sensed the existing option that the two of them had troubles in the past with his wandering lips, and hands. I definitely took advantage of this fact through the evening. 

Sun was a boy visiting from Prescott. I would later go on to have an adventure with him that was far more personal and private when I moved to Phoenix later in the year. Tonight though was our first meeting, and was filled with public sex, and bisexual adventures. Eventually he and I would venture toward adventures that would lead to my favorite blanket, my least favorite trip to Burning Man and my most exciting weekend ever. 

Franklin was a sweet little desert thing, a creature of fantasy and music. He created sounds that made my heart pulsate with joy, and moved my feet to dancing. He was electric and delicious, with little cracks in his skin that begged exploration. His eyes were the best part though. There was something inside of them that entranced me and on his first night into the Arcology, he traded a kiss for a few shots, which is what gave me the idea for this particular evening to take advantage of the boys I most longed for. 

He managed to teach me that sometimes, all it takes is for us to let our guards down. I've found, since him, that letting myself be vulnerable has led me to some of the most rewarding opportunities in my life, both romantically and otherwise. Regardless of such, I still have these situations where I try to avoid vulnerability in an effort to remain in control of situations. This has led to a number of unfortunate episodes. (see also: Momma's little breakdown)

The boy called Sun was made of magic. He was fashioned from whispers and tied together with rainbow-strings. His skin tasted like salt and strawberries. His lips had the distinct texture of cream, and touching him felt like bathing in warm silk. He taught me that no matter how you look, how you feel, who you are, or where you're from, somewhere there is a person who can and will sense a connection with you and eventually, somehow, the two of you will meet. 

These two boys, and this night, taught me to be happy in my own skin. It's no secret that I'm not the thinnest. I'm not the most attractive. I'm not the most debonair, or intelligent. I'm not the perfect guy by any stretch of the imagination, but I'm beautiful, and whole, and complete. I'm me and I'm happy to be such. They also taught me to be comfortable with my sexuality and be open with it, until that point, I had guarded it in Arizona as if it were a disease or a monster that i kept inside of me. 

Someday, I'll recount my adventures with Sun, my trip to the reservation and other stories of my time in Northern Arizona. For now though, I'll leave you here, and hope that you find a little bit of guidance or knowledge in tales of my life and the boys I have kissed.