on dating

I made an attempt at writing this last night, then I decided that
(a) I'd better think more about what to say and
(b) that I'd better ask permission.

Both of those things having been done, here I go...

I met someone about four weeks ago. The how is not important, simply the fact that we have gotten in contact with one another is. It's interesting, because he's a lot like me in some ways - and very opposite in others.

Montevideo has a monument to gays and lesbians. (Yeah I left out mention of some of the groups, sue me...) You might be surprised at this... after all, how could this city that doesn't even have a gay pride celebration have a monument to gays and lesbians? But it does. Let's just say that there was a very high-ranking gay man in the intendencia and along with pressure from various groups the monument came to exist - and that's where I laid eyes on him for the first time.

We had tea. Two and a half hours of conversation flew by while we had tea. (I don't mean just a cup of tea, a proper British teatime with a large quantity of food was served.)

Background... I haven't met a lot of other gay guys in Uruguay but the ones I'd met previously all had one or more traits in common. About the only trait that's wholesome enough to mention in a public forum such as this is that they were all massive closet cases. I suppose I can understand that given how intolerant this society can be, but it got to be boring. Furthermore I didn't really connect with anyone. We tried to communicate but didn't really get in sync - and it's not a language barrier either because I've gotten to the point that I can communicate just about whatever in Spanish provided one can understand my style of speech - nearly devoid of correct structure.

But this guy was different - he was out. That takes some courage and conviction here just in general, but he was willing to go even further and be active in groups at college, organize events, be seen on television as part of those events, etc. Given that in terms of evolution of gay acceptance, its roughly 1986 here and not 2004, it's a big deal. Or it was to me, because I also had a time period in life (age 20 or so) when I went from being very closed about myself to being equally active, visible, vocal and public about who I am.

So I was sitting there drinking... well, I confess it wasn't tea, I'm not overfond of it and especially not with (gasp) milk - my coffee and eating something or other and thinking... wow, I'm chatting with a local version of me, as I was some years ago. This is fascinating.

We chatted and chatted and chatted while the restaurant filled up around us with the dinner crowd and they ultimately kicked us out. Well, they didn't really kick us out, they just made it clear they wanted the table back. Nothing rude or out of the cultural norm, mind you.

So what to do afterwards? Think fast. It's 10pm on Sunday night in Montevideo. Neither of you are in the mood to go to a bar and even if you were that's way too early for them to be open. Well, it was about 16 degrees or perhaps a bit warmer, and we went down to the Rambla.
We continued to chat. Sitting directly on the stone retaining wall by the Rio de la Plata, we chatted, at least until I got cold from sitting directly on the wall.

I am not normally given to public displays of affection. I used to do it frequently in my early 20's, but that was before a couple of unpleasant incidents that happened. I will not describe them and will leave them in the indeterminate past, but suffice it to say those things heightened my sense of just how fast things can go from safe to unsafe and how quickly a wonderful evening can be utterly ruined.

But fuck it, I threw caution to the wind, here of all places. My post "out with it" was written just a couple days after what I am now describing... We walked hand-in-hand. It was a long walk, having started in Ciudad Vieja we went down the Rambla and into a residential neighborhood near the American embassy, ultimately winding up at Tres Cruces where we parted company. And we walked hand-in-hand the whole way. It brought back memories of how empowering and terrifying it was the first time I'd dared do it when I was 20-something - and other less pleasant memories but I pushed those aside, no sense dwelling on the past.

I don't remember in detail what we talked about - we were still at the "exchanging life stories" stage, sort of... but I was hanging on his every word. I felt comfortable with him in a way I rarely feel comfortable with anyone.

When we parted company and I was on the bus going home, I was fervently hoping that I would see him again... and perhaps again and again, I don't know. The last part I tried to push aside, no sense getting all wrapped up in stupid fantasies so soon.

I have seen him every weekend since then, talked on the phone frequently, and things have progressed from the "exchanging life stories" stage to the "sincerely getting to know one another" stage. I can close my eyes and visualize his face, now, for example - I have trouble putting names with faces sometimes, much less remembering a face in detail. There are few topics that we haven't talked about.

He also forwards me rather thought provoking articles on aspects of world news I don't think much about or had simply tuned out, over time. Around age 28 I got to this "I've got mine" manner of thinking and stopped following news about GLBT rights. This whole business of living 7.000 km from home, and alone at that, has gotten me more in tune with the way I used to be - I think. I find most of it fairly interesting, even if I don't always agree with it.

I don't know quite why but English seems to be the dominant language for communication between us. His English is far better than my Spanish, even if his pronunciation is British. I am frequently called on the carpet for my vulgar uses of language - for whatever reason I write fairly formally here but in regular speech I can be pretty, um , colorful - and positively polychromatic when I am at one emotional extreme or another. He got me addicted to listening to gaydarradio - an audio service from the UK with really good dance/electronic music mixed in with some local news items that are akin to Cronica in English. His comment, when I admitted my new addiction, was that I might learn a more "cultured" way of speaking as opposed to that "vulgar dialect from the colonies" - as he perceives my manner of speech. Meow.

So we're opposites in that aspect... he speaks quite formally and nothing obscene or improper ever passes through his lips - except one particular nickname for one particular person, it taught me a new dirty word in Spanish and made my day. We're also opposites in that I think of most everything as black and white, ones and zeros - his world has many more shades of grey, that's evident. And going out for a walk with him the other day really rammed home how driven I am to do everything fast. I don't even consciously think about it, it just happens. And he's like, slow down already... which for me is disconcerting because when I physically slow down, so does my train of thought. It's hard to explain.

I also don't know why but I am quite curious to meet his parents. No, not that I am expecting it to ever happen anytime soon nor do I really want to be "brought home to mom and dad" with all that that entails. I cannot imagine... strike one I am older. Strike two (and three)... my nationality. (The "strike" thing is a baseball metaphor...) A better way to sum it up would be this... the nut doesn't fall far from the tree, usually. So I'm curious.

But one thing is for sure - when the phone rings or the instant messenger thing flashes, part of me always sort of hopes its him on the other end. I want to see where this delightful interaction of souls leads.