“Just jerk off before you go out!” my friend Jeff announces, while coaching me through my angst over the risk of irrepressible, lusty behaviour during an upcoming date.
“It’s like going to the grocery store! If you don’t eat something before you go, then you’ll be ravenous and want everything!”
“Kill your hunger before you go” he continued, taking a swig of wine, “and you’ll be fine!”
Jeff’s coaching arose over my deliberation concerning right vs. right now—or more specifically Mr. Right vs. Mr. Right Now. After a long hiatus from dating, I’d just had an unexpectedly superb one. It was one of those dates that just kept getting better. The more he talked, the better things got. Hours passed effortlessly, and at the close of our date, I really liked him. Post date, over the next few days, we shared playful banter and made plans for a second rendezvous.
With that, came the quandary: I hadn’t slept with anyone for a while, and I genuinely liked him. Potential boyfriend, liked him.
So what‘s the big deal? I’m a fifty-year-old man, with nothing to lose! Right?
Well, as you age, (hopefully) you learn “things.” Thus, my quandary begged a bigger question: Because I potential-boyfriend liked him, I wanted “things” to be dimensional—not just a hook-up—a Mister Right Now. And even though I really wanted to sleep with him— based on past experience—I didn’t want my “hunger” to ruin my/his appetite for the possibility of a lasting romance: a Mister and Mister Right.
After my friend Jeff went home, I thought about my life as a young, gay man faced with a plethora of choices to feed my “appetite.” Then I thought about my childhood, my mother and her guidance of my diet.
Obligated to cart her rambunctious sons along while she did her weekly marketing, she would keep us mannerly with this:
“You can each pick out one thing. Whatever you want. And that will be your treat for the week.” This filled my brother and me with the important task of choosing just the right thing. Thus we spent the entire time perusing the aisles for the perfect choice. My tastes still underdeveloped, I almost always chose Captain Crunch.
Over time, I grew up and no longer had to pick just one thing. Thus, I wanted to try it all—to taste everything. This is not to say I was a slut; but there was a cer tain happy-go-lucky ingredient within my diet of dating.
As the years increased, I got bloated on boys and eventually fell madly in love.
Thus, things began to separate. I still had a head for shopping around, but my love experience brought with it intimacy. You could say I became a personal shopper. I no longer had the desire to try everything. Love had been poured over my bowl of boys.
Several days later and still at odds (translation = horny), I remembered another childhood lesson: Around the age of thirteen, I got caught kissing a girl behind the very Catholic grade school I attended. Both the “compromised” girl and I were called to the principal’s office—then brought inside separately to see her. I had to go first.
From across the overly varnished desk, Sister Francis Paula glared at me through her coke-bottle thick eyeglasses. St. Francis of Assisi looked on from and elevated platform in the corner—his outreached hands offering a false sense of support.
What followed was a lecture about conduct and propriety, about family values and vir tues. Then, after assigning me punishment chores, before throwing me out of her office, Sister’s voice softened and she hit me with this: “James…,”followed by a long pause and a magnified stare. “James, don’t be in such a hurry to experience everything in life. Because”…another pause…” then you’ll have nothing to look forward to!”
That was over thirty-five years ago.
Making the right choices when shopping is really no different than making the right choices when dating. But, to make choices, we must try things. Some make us salivate and others suppress our digestive desires. Eventually, we land upon a grocery list of favourites: Likes to read, Brie cheese. Doesn’t snore, enriched with vitamins. Dark skinned, dark chocolate. Good body, full- bodied. Captain of the swim team, Captain Crunch...
The list can sometimes be immense. And, it can take years to create. But that, I suppose, is what eventually guides us to our favourite—our true love.
When we are young—speaking from my mid-life vantage point—we are impulsive. We want everything. We rarely worry about having too much or getting burned out. We’re less afraid of being hurt, because we are young. And then life happens. Concern (sometimes) replaces carefree. It’s called experience. Then “things” become tricky—the second course. To evolve, it becomes necessary to balance our romantic diets with our carnal cravings. While carting along our list of experiences, we must maintain some semblance of freedom, of vulnerability, where our hearts are concerned. We must be willing to try something new. Again. Thus, we shop till we drop—sometimes for Mr. Right and sometimes for Mr. Right Now. But eventually, we become hungry for that one ingredient that makes everything taste good. And that, is love.
Date two eventually came. I did not. We waited to sleep together. Instead, we took little bites—sharing and digesting our favourite things. With that—which is never a guarantee—brought dates three, four, five, six and so on. And as “hungry” as I was—and don’t get me wrong; I’ve had fun as a “cereal” dater—I’m really glad I waited.
Sometimes, it’s good to occasionally recheck your shopping list—those previously digested reminders— to determine your favourite “foods.” Sometimes, determining your favourites can be done in the course of a few trips to the grocery store. And sometimes, it can take fifty years to achieve a balanced, nourishing diet of desires.
Then again, maybe these days I’m just being childish about my dating diet. Or maybe I’ve grown up a little, realizingthat,well…tricks are for kids, but Captain Crunch is good for my heart.
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