SGM Seeks LTR in NYC: As One Journey Ends, Another Begins ...

In the distant land of Middle York, there lived a young adventurer named Rilo. He was a noble, if impetuous, young man, often finding himself in all sorts of tight spaces, usually having to do with the companions he chose to be by his side. Several months earlier, he had gone off on a quest with a warrior named DaBunjicus, which had led to a disastrous outcome in which DaBunjicus had been gored to death by the terrible Bird-Beast of the Eastern Realm.

But such is life, and so Rilo journeyed on, looking to travel the countryside in pursuit of adventure. And as is often the way in these stories, it did not take him too long to find it.

Rilo had heard tell of a clan of mountain dwellers who were noble in spirit and generous with food, wine, and good cheer. Tales were told that they engaged in the oddest behavior of hanging from web-like silken strands while in a meditative state. While the true name of their clan was unknown in the Common Speech, this strange behavior caused the local peasants who lived near the mountain to simply call them the Spider Men.

Rilo had sought out these Spider Men, as he was told their webbed meditation was beneficial to a healthy body and mind, and as a young adventurer he had good need for both. After climbing the treacherous side of the Misty Mountain, he discovered a small hollow crack in the mountainside, and could tell there was a larger cave within. Nervously, he ventured inside, and in less than half a league he found the pathway opened up to an enormous cavern, lit with torches, so large Rilo could barely make out the ceiling. This was where the Spider Men resided.

As he entered, a young man approached Rilo. “Welcome, stranger,” the man said, nodding to Rilo. He was a beautiful man, Rilo couldn’t help but notice, with smooth, dark skin and hair that hung in thick cords down his back. “You have come to share the wonders of the hanging meditation, I presume?”

“I have,” Rilo answered.

The man motioned for Rilo to enter the cavern further. “Come this way.”

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Okay, so you guys know the deal with Spider-Man so far. We met a little while ago on our first date, which was at an Anti-gravity Yoga class. We’ve since been back a few times, and it remains a super-fun and awesome workout. It’s one of those exercise routines where you never feel like you’re exerting yourself too hard in the moment, and then the next day you can barely lift your aching body out of bed. Killer.

Antigravity Yoga. Where you learn ancient Yogic techniques, such
as the flipmeoverandbangme-asana.

We’ve spent time together every weekend since, as well as several weeknights. We don’t keep toothbrushes at each other’s apartments yet, but things are going pretty well.

So what’s the problem?

The problem is a little thing I like to call Morris.

Morris, for those of you just joining in, is a guy I met a while ago when I cast him in a show I wrote, and we’ve been friends ever since. I’ve dated my fair share of guys since coming out of a four-year relationship, and while Morris was clearly a guy I could have very easily seen myself with, the timing never worked out.

Part of that is my bad, I guess. I never told him how I felt about him because he was seeing another guy – which I still kind of stand by, bee tee dubs. Sure, as it turned out they weren’t even dating according to the other guy, but Morris thought they were, and I just can’t bring myself to mack on a dude when he has a boyfriend.

But in this case, fate spun me around and made me its bitch without even telling me I was pretty first. Morris had feelings for me, too, and we finally geared up to tell each other this, but only after he found out he booked a job as a performer on a cruise ship.

His original contract was for nine months, but he had an option to renew his contract for two years.

When he first shipped off, he had toyed with the idea of just staying the original nine months, but then I did something I never thought I’d do.

In an email, I convinced him to extend his contract.

Why in the blue hell would I do that, you ask? Here's why.

Morris, like most of us artists scrambling around here in New York, is not independently wealthy, and in addition to the fairly substantial cost of living in this city, he also had the crushing weight of student loans on his sinewy, nubile shoulders. Two years living rent free as well as banking a decent amount of flow wouldn’t completely eradicate his student loans, but it would bring him pretty damn close. We exchanged a few emails where he cautiously said he might want to come back after the nine months were up.

But I couldn’t ask someone to starve for me. Even if he did kind of say he would.

I guess I never wrote about this because there wasn’t a way to make it particularly funny. But there you go.

We had agreed that neither of us could put our entire lives on hold for two years, so while waiting for each other in a bubble of chastity seemed nice and romantic, it also didn’t seem particularly realistic.