JULIAN
I didn’t sleep much,which means I’m going to be super sluggish today. But how can I sleep? I logged into that site so many damn times and somehow neveroncecaught that it readmaleopposed tomail.
Is it my subconscious? I certainly believe that my brain expected to see mail and so it did. But did it continue to do so intentionally on a subconscious level? I think about the three couples I know best—the ones I’m constantly saying are goals as far as the kind of relationship I want—and two/thirds of them are gay.
Did I think I needed another man to createexactlythat kind of relationship? Was that what happened here?
I feel puzzled and a little lost, but I’m not exactly upset that Arush is a guy. Which might be a whole other avenue to consider. Honestly, the issue here might just be mindset. I’ve spent my entire life imagining a wife.
Can I adjust that image to imagine myself with a husband?
I’ve been staring at my ceiling for hours. Eyes wide open and sleep nowhere in sight. I might have dozed for a few hours at some point, but last night turned out entirely different than I thought it would.
It wasn’t difficult to see that Arush was upset last night. I’d wanted to put his mind at ease, but I didn’t know how to do so. Not in a convincing way. Considering I wasn’t sure where my head was at last night, there was no way I could say something to lend much comfort other than he wasn’t an object to be returned. The disgust I felt at that question had me nearly scowling.
My alarm goes off and I absently hit the redXon my watch to turn it off. With a heavy sigh, I sit up and rub my face. I don’t usually take a shower in the morning, choosing to do so when practice is over for obvious reasons, but I feel like I need to wake up. After a night of very little sleep, maybe a shower will do the trick.
I strip on my way to the bathroom and step into the shower before I turn on the water. A rain of icy water makes me shudder, but I don’t move from under the spray as it gradually warms up. I don’t bother to wash. Just stand under the water as it runs over me and try to organize my thoughts. More than anything, I need to have a conversation with Arush.
I’m not sure what that conversation will consist of.
On paper, I’m all for falling in love with a person and not their body parts. Especially as an asexual man, body parts don’t really do it for me. But there’s an obvious elephant in the room. If I’m notromanticallyattracted to a man for whatever reason that may be, I can’t force it.
That’s the hetero agenda, isn’t it? Gay is a choice, so they should be able to be attracted to a woman. Intelligent people know that’s a line of shit. Which also means it’s all well and good to say that I should be open to loving a man, but I can’t force that attraction.
The question becomes whether it’s a mental block because I’ve always thought I’d have a romantic relationship with a woman or is it actually the attraction that I’m going to strugglewith? Is Arush going to want to stick around while I figure that out? It’s not fair to ask him to float around in limbo while I get my shit together.
I shut the water off. Covering my face with my hands and wiping the loose water droplets away. Right now, I need to concentrate on hockey practice. Maybe when I get home, I’ll make time for Arush and me to have an actual conversation.
After brushing my teeth, I get dressed and grab my bag from the floor of my closet. Most of my gear is still at the arena since I left it behind yesterday before rushing home to get ready for my new wife. The thought makes me smile a little.
Technically speaking, Ididbring someone home. That’s kind of a big deal since I can count on one hand how many people have been in my home since moving to Chicago.
I find Arush sitting at the end of the couch with a throw pillow hugged to his chest. His eyes move to mine immediately, and then the bag over my shoulders. His body tenses. A spike of distress flickers in his eyes.
“I’m just going to practice,” I tell him. “I’ll be back in a few hours.”
He doesn’t relax, but the distress seems to melt away.
“Have you eaten breakfast yet?”
Arush shakes his head.
“You’re free to whatever you can find,” I tell him as I head for the kitchen, dropping my bag by the entry. Arush follows after a minute while I’m throwing together a protein shake in the blender. “There are English muffins, several kinds of breakfast meats, cheeses, grits, eggs, fruit, vegetables…” I rattle off before turning the blender on.
Arush still hasn’t moved when I’m finished blending. When I look at him, he’s examining the kitchen with a different kind of trepidation.
“You know how to cook?” I ask.
“I can figure it out,” Arush says. He meets my eyes and there’s a blush under his smooth bronze complexion. His facial hair is so neatly and expertly groomed, dark like the night. His eyes are almost as dark as his hair.
“Do you like breakfast sandwiches?” I ask.
He shrugs one shoulder, nodding. I imagine what we eat for breakfast is probably vastly different from what he’s used to. I should have been far more attentive to that.
“I’ll show you how to make a breakfast sandwich. While I’m gone, go through the pantry and fridge and make a list of the kinds of food you like that I don’t have. Okay?”
“I don’t need?—”
