Читать книгу Visible Lives: - Terrance Dean - Страница 11

For the next six months Ashley’s words play over and over in my head.

“Get a younger man. It will be good for you. Give it a try.”

But, I refuse to date.

Have sex.

Be with another human.

Physically.

Emotionally.

Mentally.

I need a break.

Rather, I am forced to take a break because I am thirty-eight years old. In gay years that is ancient. I am too old to be in the club, bopping around trying to keep up with the latest dances, and Hip Hop sounds. I’m still trying to memorize the lyrics of Lil’ Kim, Foxy Brown, Jay-Z, and Biggie.

I won’t even dare consider online dating. All the guys seem to have too many stipulations listed on their profiles:

No fats.

No fems.

Everyone is a thug, or on the down-low looking for the same.

And the words in blaring bold caps in a forty-eight point font stating: NO GUYS OVER THIRTY.

Men in my age range are outsiders.

Kicked to the curb.

Discarded.

Then nearly every profile displays pictures of their abs.

Chest.

Dick.

And asses with no qualms.

Is everyone an amateur porn star?

It feels like an audition for America’s Next Top Porn Actor.

NOT!

I cannot and will not participate in that. Granted, I do have a nice body, and I maintain my one-hundred-eighty-pound frame, but I am not putting it all out there for the world to gawk at.

What do I look like, having my dick and nuts dangling on some pervert’s screen to enjoy?

And, I simply cannot see myself getting involved with a young tender. That is not my style. It’s Ashley’s. Her world of boy toys and playing sugah momma. Not mines.

I still think about Eric every now and then. But I am slowly, and surely, working him out of my system. Yes, I miss him.

His smell.

Deep baritone voice whispering in my ear.

His big strong arms holding me.

His stocky muscular body under mines.

Then on top.

I can’t even watch his football games on television.

I refuse.

I have a new focus.

It’s all about work.

All about me.

Then summer arrives. Now it’s all about…