36 Hours

Just a short note...I've been busy working the last couple of days. I haven't had time to do any writing.

I got together with friends in North Vancouver on Wednesday night for dinner - it was wonderful.

I've been sticking to my Dr. Atkin's diet. I feel great and sleep amazingly well (except for last night I didn't sleep at all - reason to follow....). I've been walking an hour a day along Jericho beach to UBC at a fast pace - relaxing and burning fat. I'm trying to get over my hatred of walking in the rain - I won't let the rain stop me. (Reminescent of Mariah Carey, isn't it?)

I spoke with my new "Match," RA, yesterday afternoon, and had a long conversation. He has a terrific voice, and sounds very interesting and 'grounded.' We're meeting on Saturday night. I don't think he's relationship material for me but I'd love to be friends with him.

The Pianist called me out-of-the-blue yesterday, and we're meeting up on Monday for a walk. I'd called him about a little over a month ago and I reached an answering message recorded with very strange 'new-wave' music on it without any speaking - and left him a message. Didn't hear back from him. When the Pianist called, I told him, and we discovered I didn't have his correct number, so he never got my message. So it was nice of him to call because he's someone else I'd like to be friends with.

I also got another e-mail out of the blue from someone I went on a date with a couple months ago. This would be worth talking about actually.

I'll call him JU. We met up online at gay.com, got together for sex, and had an awesome time. He's beautiful and young - only 23. Very intelligent and remarkably intimate. Great thighs. Beautiful face and skin. He's extremely present during sex. He even let me *punch his kitten* (according to CoolRelax terminology). I took him out for dinner a week later. It was okay - the conversation, though, had a lot of quiet moments. I found out during dinner that he's an escort. He's one of those escorts who really loves what he does, and even sees his role for some clients as mutually therapeutic. JU recently came back from a gay cruise with a client who paid for it so that they could go together. *Hmm, lucky JU.*

We went back to his beautiful apartment, starting kissing and stuff. He is a great kisser. He excused himself to go to the washroom. While I'm sitting there alone, I begin thinking, "What the f*ck am I doing with this guy? He's too young, etc." He was gone for quite a while, and in the meantime I decided I should probably go. I got up, and when I was putting on my shoes he came out of the washroom and embraced me. I told him, "I should probably go." I didn't know what to say! He reacted extremely well, said he really enjoyed himself, and gave me another sweet kiss. I didn't call him again.

This morning when I checked my e-mail I saw he sent me a message at 3:20am. It said, "hey there! just dropping you a line to say hello :) hope u are doing well." His message is very sweet and cute, but it leaves me confused as to what to tell him or how to act on this. Just tell him "I'd like to be friends?" Even though he's very attractive and sexy, I think this is what I'd like. Perhaps he would also? Any advice?

I went for a late night, 11:30pm dinner by myself, after teaching, and ordered a steak and salad greens (i.e. Dr. Atkins diet). I was sitting outside on the patio, here in Kits, when a very cute young guy, about 5'11" walked by, then paused, and leaned against the railing, right beside me. He had buzzed blond hair, blue eyes, and was wearing a baseball cap and general 'guy' attire. (I was wearing my normal Vancouver 'uniform' of sweatpants and a t-shirt with a fleece jacket - no one dresses up in Kits).

He took out a cigarette and started smoking it. I caught his eye, and said, "Hey bud, how's it going?" We engaged in conversation for a while, and then I invited him to have dinner with me. I'm a sucker for a cute guy. He said, "Hey thanks!"

I'll call this guy "Bud." He ordered steak and spaghetti, but didn't want any alcohol. I asked him about himself, what he does, where he's from, all the regular stuff. He's 21. Boldly, he said to me, "Are you gay?" I said, "Yes."

I honestly didn't invite him for dinner with me because I was looking for sex (believe it or not). I guess I miss my 21-year-old Scottish roomy - all that youthful energy, passion, openness, lack of cynicism and absence of decades of being betrayed. I was just having fun conversing with him. Of course, it helped that he was GORGEOUS to look at. But I felt like his big brother.

I reassured him that I wasn't coming onto him. (I assumed he was straight.) I think he believed me...but I'm not sure. I invited him back to my place to watch a movie, and he said yes, but "Would you drive me to a friend's place so I can pick up some clothes and stuff?"

"Sure, Bud," I said.

We drove downtown to the West End, stopped at a house, and he ran in. He came back five minutes later with a trendy (read:gay-looking) aluminum cannister with some designer's name on it, carried by a strap over his shoulder. I was looking forward to leaning back and watching a movie with him. Okay...maybe cuddling too!

We were sitting in my livingroom, now at around 1:30am, and he confessed to me he's a morphine addict. I felt a combination of sympathy and horror. Partly because the last time I picked up a couple on the street, they turned out to be heroin addicts. Why am I attracting this? "Maybe I'm here to help," I rationalize. He told me he lost all his clothes last night, that he carried around in a garbage bag.

Feeling badly for him, I told him my ex-roommate left a suitcase of clothes, and I went to get it from the closet. I hadn't looked through it before. He shuffled through it and didn't see anything he liked.

Bud dumped a tiny zip-locked bag of white powder on my diningroom table, and asked me for my credit card. Yeah, right - I learned from the last couple that drug addicts are not to be trusted. Apparently when I drove Bud to the house earlier, he went - not so much to pick up his metal cannister - but to try to get some more morphine.

I gave him my debit card instead. He used it to divide the small amount of white powder into two lines, then pulled apart a pen to use the hollow and hard, plastic straw left over to snort it. After inhaling the entire line he said, "Shit - they gave me cocaine, not morphine! I don't like cocaine. Here, you have the rest."

I've done cocaine twice in my life, and didn't feel much from it. It scares me, because I've heard it's very addictive. I don't know what got into me, but I snorted it. It was a very small amount.

Again, I didn't feel much of anything from it, except more mental alertness. A lot more, in fact - I'm still awake. I couldn't sleep all night, which is terrible because I've got a million things to complete today.

Bud was so disappointed that it wasn't morphine, that he decided to go back downtown to try to find some. So he left, in a hurry. He accidentally left his metal cannister and umbrella behind. I doubt he has a clue where I live, since we drove to my place in the dark and entered the house through the garage. I looked inside his metal bag cylinder, and there was nothing of importance, except for some prescription asthma inhalers! (yikes) and a couple of CDs I've never heard of, two batteries, a brass coin from Columbia, shaving equipment, unused needles, and a pair of socks. Poor guy! I hope that's not all he owns in this world. This morning I half-hoped he would return to pick it up, but he hasn't, and probably won't.

After Bud left, I began to put away the clothing Bud had tossed on the floor into the suitcase. I discovered it didn't belong to my ex-roomy at all! Instead, it must have been left behind by the heroin addict guy, after he shot up in my bathroom and disappeared, over a month ago (see prior blog). It contained eight worn t-shirts of a mostly black color, a wild pair of hippie-embroidered surfer shorts, two boxers, a Braun electric razor, and two Narcotics Anonymous books. I looked through the book titled "Just For Today," and it had been signed on the inside front and back by dozens of other NA members, with loving and kind messages.

"Light the good light every moment, every minute, every day. Light the good light for this moment over all you do and all you say. NEVER SURRENDER BRO!"

"Loved spending our time together. What a warm and caring man. Take care of you!"

"Your (sic) a heck of a guy! Personality plus! Just won't be the same without you. Hope to see ya again. Stay clean. Have fun! Live on!" (a sketch of a guitar appears afterward)

"You bring me so much joy to see your smiling face, you have so much energy, you make me tired watching U. Good luck in recovery."

"It's been a pleasure knowing you. I hope you get what you need from MRTC because it has a lot to offer, and so do you. Stay true to yourself and following your dreams."

The hard-covered book, titled, "It Works: How and Why" had passages up through "Step 7" highlighted in a fluorescent yellow highlighter - except for "Chapter 5" which had sentences underlined in pencil. I scanned through the book, reading what he had highlighted. Let me just say I learned some things about his life through his selections...too upsetting to mention at the moment. This guy obviously was very sincere in his recovery at one point. I'm sorry to see he went back to using drugs.

In "Just for Today" many of the notes had names and telephone numbers, asking him to keep in touch. I briefly wondered if I should try calling some of them to see if they knew where to get a hold of "XXX" to return his suitcase. I'm not sure if I should - it's a dilemma for me. If "XXX" is still out on the streets, then he wouldn't be keeping in touch with his NA friends. And it would be awkward for me to call them. I'm not sure what the right thing to do is - any advice, my dear bloggers?

So that was my evening cum morning, now soon turning into afternoon.

I meant this to be a short note, but perhaps my cocaine-enduced hyperactivity made me type all this. And just when I thought I was *getting it together.* (This day was so weird, I wonder if people who have read this think I'm making it up for your entertainment.) I just looked in the mirror and my eyes are all bloodshot. Not pretty. Maybe I should be in NA?