The First Move (pt 1)

One of my favorite cities--London

Life is getting better with every moment that we are blessed to live.  A lot of this has to do with advances in technology.  Ten years ago, most people didn't use e-mail.  Now, most people don't send letters via US Mail.  I am happy because my telephone company, which uses VOIP technology (that's Voice Over IP), which means I need a high speed Internet connection in order to make a phone call.

What's so great about my phone company is that I get to call anyone, anytime, unlimited for 25 bucks a month.  I just learned to my surprise, that included in my unlimited calling are international calls to the United Kingdom, France, Ireland, and Spain.  This is wonderful because a reader of this blog, DYLAN, lives in London and I get to call and listen to his sexy voice whenever I fancy (his British sensibilities are already wearing off on me).

DYLAN is black.  And it is so crazy to listen to a black man with a British accent.  I love it.  His speech is so fucking prim, yet its a brother, and deep down it excites me.  He and I have great conversations about life and love.  I call him at night and he tells me about the colored dating scene on the other side of the pond while he makes a "proper" morning breakfast.  In my own way, it is a sharing of intimacy.  We mildly flirt with one another while we share our respective woes of life and love.  And we even come up with a few theories, like the Mariah Carey Phenomenon.  But more on Mariah in the future.

DYLAN recently asked me, If you invite a guy to your flat [apartment] for dinner, who should make the first moves towards sex?  i.e. the host or the guest?

I recently had an opportunity to answer his question when one late night, I was so horny that I rode my broken bike in the rain to a guy's house.  I got to his apartment at about midnight.  He was short and petite, and wore a metallic necklace that clanged and made noise.  I met the guy online.  In his picture he had a tight chocolate body, and what appeared to be a nice sized tool.  We spoke on the phone and he seemed really cool and confident.  But when I got to his apartment, he was quiet.  Almost stand-offish.

The television was on, and the movie, Along Came A Spider was on cable.  The movie was somewhat close to ending.  I sat down on his sofa.  He sat down in a single chair. 

Bad signal.  He wasn't sitting next to me.

And then he proceeded to watch the movie.  I sat on the sofa, and tried to make conversation.  But he didn't really add much.  When the movie went off, he asked, Is there anything that you want to see on television?

I told him, I didn't come over to watch television.  He laughed and said, What did you come over for?

Sigh.  We were going to play that game.  The coy game.

I thought about dear sweet British DYLAN.  Who was supposed to make the first move?  I didn't even need him to make the first move--just hold a decent conversation and not play coy.  I thought about DYLAN and how we were separated by the Atlantic.  Would he be playing this game with me if I were in his London flat?  I doubted it.

But whatever the answers to my mental questions, DYLAN was thousands of miles away.  My current problem while, he felt like he was a thousand miles away from me in terms of attraction was actually four feet away from me.  And I couldn't tell if he was uninterested, or was just waiting for me to make the first move.

Comments

[Scott]

I haven't read your blog for ages and with the sporadic nature of the podcasts (which is cool if you are busy and all, I can understand that) I thought I would have a look and I see this, a picture of the beautiful city I live in!

Having grown up in the US with British parents, I have to say, I was shocked when I met a black person for the first time with a British accent. This was actually in Cleveland where I grew up. I was about 9 yrs old and it was a women from Manchester my mom had befiended. I remember asking my mom about it and she said "of course there are black people in England..." and explained further how. After that, it became the norm and they became and my mom was godmother to her first born son.

Living in London now for quite awhile now, it's not at all thought about until I read something like this and think, yeah, I guess that must be somewhat strange to a person of color in the US but as this post illustrates, no matter what side of the pond you are on, what you look like or sound like, the experiences are very similuar.

Hope you are doing well Bernard!

Scott x

[Quentin Ergane]

Ugh. See, I would have got up and fucking left. Who needs that SHIT?

Coy... fuck that.

[Dylan]

Ha Ha Bernard,
I'm flattered I've made it on your blog!
Looking forward to our weekend chat.
Cheers
Dylan