The Man I Love

Some seek the limelight and some hold the light in place

She smiled back at him. Neither of them had said so much as hello yet she was looking at him with those eyes. Deep in the cathedral of his young being, Erik felt a bell toll, a peal of recognition. And for the rest of his life, he would swear, he would swear to anyone who asked, although nothing was said aloud, he heard Daisy Bianco speak to him. She said it with her eyes, he heard it clearly in his head, and it wasn’t hello. It was, 'Well, here you are...' Here I am, he thought.

I'm feeling so much. I don't even have names for what I feel.

I want to kiss you until I die

She was a beautiful china cup on a table, quietly asking to be filled. And little by little, Erik was tipping over and pouring out.

Bowl of rejection,” Kees was saying. “Or bowl of regret. That’s what it comes down to, those are your choices. Which will taste worse? You ask me, rejection sucks, but you can choke it down. Regret will give you food poisoning for the rest of your life.

At some point you just gotta start living the truth of who you are and what you feel.

His heart expanded until he was nothing but a heart. A giant pounding heart on two shaking legs walking over to her.

A hush fell over them. For a long moment, while she was leaning her chin on her hand atop the piano lid, and his hands rested lightly on the keys, they stared at each other. The stage, the wings, the maw of the theater and its rows of seats and ornamental moldings, all receded. The air about them shimmered, drew in, coalesced into a bubble. They looked at each other, breathing together, long past a socially acceptable interval. It was far beyond the border where Erik normally would have dropped his gaze, cracked a joke or at least a smile. She’s peaceful, he thought, and her eyes widened slightly, as if she had heard him.

My enemy does not triumph over me. Fuck the fucking fuckers.

I want you so much," he said against her mouth. "You know I've never-" "I know, he said. "You said you were waiting for the one." "I think I was waiting for you.

Some seek the light and hold the light in place. Erik Fiskare didn't like being the center of attention, but he liked situations where he had to keep the attention centered.

He wanted all of her. Her thoughts, her words, her silences and her stillness.

Leaving isn’t always the end of loving. Love doesn’t give a shit about geography, Erik. It’s

When I was with her, my cells were happy. I miss looking in her eyes and everything else just disappearing.

This was a profound realization that sex was the fruit of an emotional bond, not the dirt in which it grew.

I only want you. No one could hold me in the dark the way you do.

You can bury your pain or avoid it. You can tattoo over it. But you won't be free of it until you feel it.

I could never hate you. But now I can never love you.

I want to kiss you until I die.

And then they were staring again. And it happened again, just as it had in the theater yesterday. Time slowed, atoms and particles separating and recombining into a secret sphere around them. 'I like you,' he said. Her hand out on the table again, between them, and he put his on it. 'I like you,' she said, almost soundless. They stared on through another timeless moment, after which she went back to her book, and he bent his head over his work again. They held hands on the table, held feet beneath. Erik had never been so relaxed with a girl, never known such comfort with another human being. He had no desire to leave this space, and yet within it, he was free. He could sit with her and feel what he was feeling, with no need to explain it, dismiss it or joke it away. Every time he looked up at her and thought, I love this, she looked up too, and her eyes seemed to nod at him.

Daisy seems the type who likes to make something beautiful with her partner, rather than just be carried around and adored in the spotlight. So I imagine she’s generous and forgiving in the dark.

Look, no gay man is oblivious to a beautiful woman. I’m gay, I’ve partnered women and believe me, you feel it going on. Beauty is beauty. And straight or gay, you are immersed in this intense, artistic chemistry which is both sensual and sensory. Chemistry is chemistry. It just isn’t rooted in sexual attraction.

Loving her felt like creating something. A cathedral. Spires and stained glass and bells. But she broke one window and I indiscriminately tore the whole thing down.

Nothing man made was perfect. A partnership wasn't about being beautiful and adored...it was about incorporating the mistakes into the architecture and continuing to build something beautiful. Together.

At some point, you just gotta start living the truth of who you are and what you feel.

Like I said, my friend, she seems the type who likes to make something beautiful with her partner, rather than just be carried around and adored in the spotlight.

You haven’t seen your father since you were eight?' He shook his head. 'No word. No contact. No nothing?' 'Nothing.' Daisy’s eyes looked right and left before coming back to his. 'Is he alive?' Erik turned looked into the blue-green eyes studying him so intently. He was surprised he had revealed this to someone he barely knew. Normally this was the card he kept closest to his chest. Yet something about Daisy looking at him, her expression calm and interested, sympathetic but not pitying, tactfully curious, seemed to be reaching into the tangle of emotions comprising the experience of being so cruelly deserted, and gently drawing out a thread.