SGM Seeks LTR in NYC: You Want to Make a Memory?

Try to remember the kind of September
When life was slow, and oh, so mellow.
Try to remember the kind of September
When grass was green and grain was yellow.
Try to remember the kind of September
When you were a tender and callow fellow.
Try to remember and if you remember, then follow …

“Try to Remember,” from The Fantasticks

Memory is a funny thing. And I wonder how I’ll recall the story I’m about to tell you in the years to come.

When we last left off, I was telling you guys about how I had visited the Australian on his last night here in the states before he goes off to his home country, a place so evil that it's conspiring in every possible way a land mass can to murder the human race. Despite my protests that he’d be safer hanging out in a locked room with Jason Voorhees and Sauron, he was adamant, so what’s a guy to do except give him a night to remember? That’s right, I’m going to send him off like the hot piece that I am.

Well, I mean, that was the plan, anyway. Keep in mind this was the place where after we made sweet koala love the first time, it’s possible I knocked over a giant vase full of marbles and had to use my body as a human dam. Long story.

I can still ... HEAR them ...

Anyway, here’s what happened on my final night with the Australian.

So I hadn’t expected that we would be getting all up in each other’s didgeridoos, because the last time I saw him and wanted to hit that, he thought there would be too many feelings involved, which hurt, but I understood. And I agreed with him after some reflection. Our relationship had had its ups and downs, and the physical aspect was pretty fantastic, but we were so much more than that to each other.

We had connected, and clung to each other for a while to escape the loneliness following the end of our respective long-term relationships. Though we grew apart, there was an emotional intimacy that had remained, strained as it had been at times. Before we had officially broken up, he had sensed I was drifting away and started exploring other options, but with time I had forgiven and understood. I had been distant, and he saw the inevitable.

But even after all this, we had stayed close in each other’s hearts. We meant something to each other, something that exceeded simple physicality. We were so much more.

So we figured the best thing to do would be to take a match to that and mark the “good-bye” with a “good-bone” … “ing.”

No? Not a good pun?

Normally, if I was planning on some action, I would have taken a shower right before hand. But since he had previously put the kibosh on the kabob (hey-o), I didn’t think that was necessary. Ergo, worried about some possible lack of taintular freshness, I suggested we hop in the shower together.

Once we were in, things got off to a good start, and it seemed like I was in for a good old-fashioned Skinemax-y time. But then, naturally, I was reminded that of course the Australian has one of those modern tubs that looks like it belongs in a futuristic world where right angles have been outlawed, and everything has to kind of swoop around in white porcelain curves.

So we were getting all tangled up and intertwined and stuff with each other, and I sort of, I don’t know … he was kind of leaning against me, his back to my front, and he’s bigger than me so there was a lot of weight I had to counterbalance, and …

Okay, look. If there were f**king right angles in the tub I could have properly braced myself, but no, everything’s got to be soooo stylish with the Australian, which includes swooping, round surfaces in his bath tub. Not to mention, everything was wet and slippery.