Wednesday, July 16, 2003

Good trouble.

I've met someone. Sorta. A photographer. I'm going to go all "Dear Abby" and call him "Snapshot." He's trouble. Good trouble. And I've not been involved in good trouble in quite some time.

Here's what's happened:

1) I had a disaster date with Snapshot's roommate.
2) Snapshot's roommate called me during the Pride festival using Snapshot's phone.
3) I called the number back a week later.
4) I got Snapshot, not his roommate.
5) Snapshot and I, in the middle of all the confusion, actually had a long talk about nothing-in-particular that had nothing to do with his roommate.
6) Encouraged, I called Snapshot again.
7) Snapshot left a message for me.
8) I had a bad night Sunday and called Snapshot to vent.
9) Snapshot and I talked for four hours. He's smart, experienced, nice, foul-mouthed, understanding and a good listener, the sort of things his roommate was distinctly not.
10) Around Hour Two of the four-hour talk, I asked Snapshot out, and he told me he had a boyfriend of four months but had been keeping that from me because he actually found himself enjoying our talks. We talked for two more hours.
11) Snapshot found a photo of me online and said I was cute during our next chat.
12) Snapshot ended our conversation when it was time for dinner with his boyfriend.
13) I called Snapshot last night, and he sounded really, really tired. And cute. He said we'd talk later, that he was tired.

I've never seen him. He has a boyfriend. His roommate, who is supposed to be my friend now, doesn't know that I've been calling. I really, really like talking to Snapshot, but any move in any direction has to be his decision. I cannot call him again.

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