I Have a Younger Boyfriend

There is a man in my bed. And I know his first name.

Sweet Meryl, could it be that for the second time in 15 years on the Coast, Rugged Fox is off the market? More troubling and back in the first person, if I am no longer a certified singleton, is my writing career over?

Okay, I know you want to hear all the details. However, we must proceed with caution. We do not want to jinx this! Even though it has been years, the last thing I want is a repeat of the real-life disaster that turned out to be Theodore J. Nelson. Give a man a starring role on your website, and it is only a matter of time until you scroll down to the part where he breaks your heart.

How did we meet? The answer to this question depends on the audience. If you are my Uncle Curt in Alberta, I will tell you that we met at the Vancouver Gun Range in Port Coquitlam (confusedly). If you are Mama and Papa Fox, I will tell you that we met on the ferry over to Granville Island - at sunset. And if you are my gay friend Dom, I will show you the exchange of messages that led him to my front door one fateful night/morning at 4:48 AM.

What is he like? I must abhor us to slow down with this incessant line of questioning! Must I remind you about the six-month curse? I don’t know what kind of cruel trick this universe has been playing on me; but I have yet to experience a relationship that lasts longer than half a year. It is true! Even my first relationship with Frederick Davenport (who crushed my heart as if it were a gin and tonic at happy hour) lasted five months and twenty-nine days.

“I am going to need a bigger splash than that.”

In full disclosure, looking back, I was committed in an opposite sex relationship for nearly a year. However, that felt like an eternity for us both. Even though she is now married with children, to this day, I still send an apology letter each year with the kids’ birthday cards.

Okay! Fine, top of my glass if you must. I am going to need a bigger splash than that.

I will tell you this much, he is younger. (Not in the creepy/illegal sense! Why do I always feel the need to clarify that?) Mere weeks after we came together for the first time, I sat next to him at dinner while he blew out the candles on his 30th birthday cake. Oh, me oh my! I have said this before and I will say it again: if you are a balding ginger with a slight pudge and fledgling website on the cusp of his 39th birthday, it is essential you find yourself a younger man.

Did I ask him to marry me? No, of course not! I have so many projects on the go, the last thing I need is People magazine calling about wedding plans.  Did I tell him about my infatuation with The Stud across the back lane? One day I will. Has he asked me multiple times why I keep looking out the window? Maybe.

Darn it! He just woke up and asked me to accompany him to a bite to eat. As a gay man, is it ever possible to tire of brunch? I don’t think so.