Bourgeois, sentimental sodomite
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I'm a sentimental guy. I can remember the first time Charles and I went to the grocery store as a couple. It was the third time we went to one. We did on the day we met and the first day I stayed with him in Raleigh. OK, let me qualify that: I'm a very sentimental guy.
This has probably been clear here though I can't be sure if the eerie decorum that sometimes creeps in ever hides my soppy side (is decorum much more than a snazzy word for seeking respect by hiding flaws?).
A recent accession of cash has enabled me to pay the mortgage and all the utility bills. Even if I were living alone being able to feel free to answer the telephone again without fear of discovering a collection agent would make my days easier. Debt is Hell.
Having money naturally I had to buy something for Charles. Discovering there were a couple of recent Chuck Wagon Gang reissues made that easy. Won't matter if he already has the songs, I just like being able to buy him things. (For myself I ordered Jack Teagarden's Mis'Ry & The Blues and Dave Clarke's Electro Boogie, Vol. 2.)
We've spent the last three days doing quotidian things. Lots of grocery shopping, with his injured jaw we've visited half dozen grocery stores to find food he can ingest without heavy chewing. Buying unglamorous necessaries like air filters, ibuprofen and ordering a new coffee pot.
Bourgeois as hell I'm quite content right now to be like any other middle class queer man living with the guy he loves. The merely routine can be very good, very happy. I had a pretty electrifying youth and am happy to get my endorphin bursts from the quotidian.