What happens in a week…

This time last week, Type Geek’s brother was slowly bleeding to death, kept alive by constant blood transfusions. His hospital has a dedicated out of the box thinker and suddenly his brother found himself with his own version of Gregory House, insane genius. Minus the drug addiction, limp, and snark. So, with a Hail Mary surgery that concluded with brother stuffed to the gills with self dissolving gauze, Dr. Not House was able to slow down the bleeding long enough to allow the body to start clotting on its own and retaining some of the blood being pumped into him. He is still in the hospital, he still has a huge upward battle, and a bigger war after this fight is won, but currently he is stable.

I felt defenseless. I love the Geek so much and felt like I needed to do something, but there wasn’t anything I could really do, except listen. Except be available. Except…

So, I cooked. I made him a dozen small individual Italian Easter Breads to take with him to Easter dinner with his family. I brought him fresh Tuberose, blooming for such a short time and only available in New England for such a short window of time, they smell like heaven, they smell like my parfum. I also bought myself some and placed the bouquet in a pitcher in my bedroom so I can wake up to their smell each morning.

Friday night, after finishing up the breads, I took a shower and grabbed a cab at midnight, placed the warm treats on his table, the flowers in his sink, and crawled into bed next to him. I was asleep, spooned against his back, my hand resting on his forearm and nose nestled into the crook of his neck, in less than 10 minutes. It was warm and soft and felt like home.

Type Geek is my just right. Like Goldilocks… I have tried the beds that are too hard and too soft, the porridge that is too hot and too cold, and the men and women who are just too big or too small… in many ways, Type Geek is my just right. Sure, there is no perfection. Our schedules don’t allow us to spend more than once a week with each other. Sex doesn’t happen three times a week like I would love. Still scarred from his past two relationships, he isn’t ready to swim in the waters that I dove into, but he dangles his toes on the edge and smiles as he talks to me while I swim. For now, that is fine. For now, I am happy just to have those toes.

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¡por supuesto!

An update on the day… Sunday July 10, 2010.

Spain wins first World Cup EVER!

Cooper Fiennes sobs from joy, then sadness. Being in the United States, so far from friends, family and countrymen was amplified post win. Then, once the floodgates opened, it was apparent that he was also crying over the loss of his marriage and all of the change in his life. I believe he is lonely, in a way that friends aren’t able to reach into and fill at the moment. It was immensely endearing to se him so vulnerable. All I wanted to do was hold him, but we were at his colleague’s house. The woman whom the strange dynamic exists.

A question in my mind, since I had heard that Spanish men weren’t particularly blessed in physical endowment, however he is, was answered. It was a sideline conversation and when Cooper Fiennes mentioned that his great-grandmother was Sephardic Jew… it clicked. Once again, Hung Like a Jew is true. Of course, the hottie with the beautiful cock turns out to have some Jewish running through the most important veins of his body. I should have known that there was a reasonable explanation for it, besides meer blessed fluke.

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Old Fashioned with Aged Rum? Yes, Please!

Why do I find it obnoxious and trite if an american gives me a red rose, or any rose for that matter, however, if a european does it, suddenly it’s charming?! Cooper Fiennes was running a few minutes late so he showed up with a single red rose for me. Normally that would induce gag reflex, but from him, it seems sweet and endearing. Did I mention how hot he is? Damn, he is SO hot. However, I digress….

We had two hours to kill before our film, so we wandered over to a local restaurant and had some sangria. He isn’t too fond of sangria it appears, where as it is one of three quintessential summer drinks in my world. Because you are wondering, these are: Mojitos, Sangria and Prosecco. He said that, in Spain, sangria is a cheap drink that young people drink. Obviously he has never had my top shelf sangria that breaks the bank, and any inhibitions one might have had at drink #1. Conversation flows rather easily with him; educated but highbrow, indie without being hipster. He makes me laugh without trying. I enjoy that ease.

At 9, we wandered over to the cinema. I abandoned him at the ticket window to choose the film, as I picked up some overpriced Dasani from the refreshment station. $4 for a $1 bottle of water?! Eeek. After entering our particular theatre, we joked about the abundance of people. In truth, there were 2 couples in the entire showing. Us and Them. This city is a sad excuse for what a city wants to be. Sigh. The previews were great, a new film coming soon by Jean-Pierre Jeunet plus a hysterical film with Julianne Moore and Annette Benning as a long married lesbian couple. During the previews we would occasionally whisper something, but mainly we watched the screen. I wondered if he would try to touch me, he didn’t. Is he truly attracted to me or politely attracted to me because I am present and he is looking for a way to fill the time? One can never tell with short-term residents. Once the movie started we focused forward with but only a few comments here and there. Films are always hard dates, you lose touch of someone during that time. Rather than connecting, you are disconnecting. I don’t usually pick cinema dates at the beginning, however, it was his request.

After the movie ended I found that I had a little over an hour before the last train. Why leave early when you can stare at and chat up such a handsome and charmingly sweet man for another hour?! We wandered into a local bar and ordered a couple of cocktails. Mine, as per usual, being more interesting than my dates. I had an old-fashioned made with aged rum, while Cooper Fiennes had, essentially, a screwdriver. Simple, classic, and unexpectedly boring. I guess that when you look like that, sound like that, and are, well… that, you can drink a vodka and oj. The bartender was awesome and he spent some time chatting with us before I realized, hmm, I think my train leaves in 10 minutes. The bartender corrected me, the train leaves in 3 minutes. Oh SHIT. Cooper Fiennes paid the tab and we rushed out the door, a moment of panic as the train station gates were locked. A breath of relief as we realized it was for the opposite direction that I was headed. Fingers crossed and breath held as we crossed the street to the other station egress. Please Please Please… the gates were just about to close as I walked up. I turned to him, grabbed him and gave him the worlds fastest kiss, I then ran down the stairs and, over my shoulder, gave a sad eyed “SORRY” as I vanished behind the gates and onto the train.

I then texted him as I was sitting on the train, ” I just JUST made it! Kiss me again…soon. Please. 😉 ” He responded that he had a wonderful night, the last 5 seconds being the best part, albeit too short and that he would be kissing me again…soon. NICE! I guess the answer is leaning more towards his actually being attracted to me. Excellent. I rode the rest of the way with a funny smirk and then felt really naughty as I realized that in less than 24 hours, I will have had a date with Cooper Fiennes, have had lunch with Brooklyn and will be having coffee with Type Geek afterwards, as he is working from home, 3 blocks from where Brooklyn and I are having lunch. Wow, either I am a Lifetime movie in the making or an episode of Sex and the City. Who would have thought 10 years ago, that this would be me?

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