I aggressively, then tenderly, called for her love. Her sweet angel tan body, luscious and curved like a motherly swan rescuing me from my low self-esteem. I, in strange, theatrical madness cursed her for her lack of love profession, for loving my face, my hair, my strong, powerful body, but not that crude disgusting thing lurking in my pants. That silent, grotesque lump of God-given clay yet to be molded, for all hope, to die in the dust with the humming of the cortex, those strange fibers of consciousness wrestling angsty teenage love, my sweet Kimberly… she’d dated someone I’d thought my friend. Society’s law kept me from killing him. I would wake up in the night and punch the floor in anguish, homoerotic fear and shame… I killed him a thousand times over in my mind…. His form extinguished by the hood of my car raging into him outside of his jock club, the mma fighting club where I’d first gotten homoerotic thoughts about him. I held it back and back and back… until one day, I. I actually wasn't nervous about anything until the wheels touched the ground. Once the plane landed and came to a stop to deplane, I was having a tough time getting out of my seat! But! the thought of what was waiting for me at the end of the tunnel took over and I managed to get up and shuffle through the plane and out to the tunnel. “Head up, shoulders back, just be calm.” Breath Mike, Breath!” I said to myself. Down the tunnel and walking into the waiting area, there was a small group of people waiting there. The plane was only half full so, that made sense. I was looking around the area, looking for that face, those eyes, hopefully looking for me. Nothing. No one. Nada. She wasn’t there! I waited until everyone left that area and stood there for about 10 minutes hoping she would show up but, she never did. Talk about male insecurity! Well, it hit me like a ton of bricks. That high level of excitement was replaced by all the doubts about myself along with where, how and why? It.
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