August 21, 2006

Proposed Visit to Rehoboth Beach, DE

Adam and Stephen have been on two dates since the one I reported here. Evidently things are progressing extremely well, and a friend has lent them his place in Rehoboth Beach, DE this coming weekend. They’ve asked me to go with them. No, begged is more like what they did. "Three's a crowd," I said. But, they wouldn't let it go. Anyway, I’ve checked flight schedules and ordered my E-ticket.

Cape Henlopen September 2004
This is a photograph I took two years ago at Rehoboth Beach, Delaware

I fly to Philadelphia Thursday. Adam will pick me up at the airport after school and drive me to his house. We will gather Stephen and his things Friday after they are both done work and drive to the Beach, about a 2 and 1/2 hour drive. We will have but Saturday and Sunday at the beach. However, I will stay on at Adam’s house until the following Thursday, August 31st. I am so happy for them both, but especially for Adam.

Stephen is a dream, and he adores Adam. He is the epitome of the three essential S’s, "sweet, smart, and sexy." If I weren’t Adam’s old fart granddad, I’d make a play for Stephen myself. A not so brief description will show you why. Stephen is square jawed with hazel bedroom eyes, high cheekbones, and a crop of thick black hair that always looks a bit messed-up. He works out 4 x’s a week – has one of those slender wasted, perfect V latissimus dorsi things going on in the back, brick hard abs, and has generally a beautifully proportioned male body, including the part we gay men are most hung up on - just enough body hair where appropriate, smooth bronzed summer-skin, and a butt that invites stares from passers by, both men and women. Of course, my dirty old fart brain is hung up on physical beauty when Stephen has so much more to offer. He’s one of the few people on this earth who are beautiful inside and out, and, (good God!) - he’s intelligent and cultured too. I’ve spent time talking with him about one of my pet subjects, classical music, and he held his own, sighting particular passages that are favorites of his from Mahler’s 8th Symphony which just happens to be the one piece of music guaranteed to give me an orgasm when orchestra, organ and chorus get to screaming and throbbing at the end. I’ve wondered if Adam didn’t coach him about my crazed Mahler mania.

Anyway, Adam is foolish if he doesn’t grab and hold on for dear life.

(P.S. I'll deal with worries about flying in my next entry, Dear Journal.)

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