I can’t recall how we met, probably on one of my “older male web sites” but we’ve been connecting on and off for the past three years. His English is quite good for someone who is self-taught. He’s a kick-boxer and is now teaching Tae kwon Do. He is so full of confidence that I am amazed. I suppose it is his youth and his Arabness. Either way, I am totally stuck on him.

I have been for some time. His energy, his infatuation for me, his complete inaccessibility all conspire to make him my current obsession. I used the fantasy energy I have to him as a metaphor for the energy I hope to have in my attraction to Higher Power. He makes me feel young and attractive — which I never did feel when I was young.  It seems to be forbidden, me an older white Christian western male falling for a young, Arab, Muslim Algerian. Am I crazy? Perhaps. Being in this kind of love/infatuation feels sort of crazy. Should I know better?

What’s to know? I’m nearly 68, on a fixed income, with Parkinsons and other ailments. What am I planning for? What am I saving for? I laugh. Old age? You know, after retirement, you just have time to putter about and be useful until you die. This could be my last hurrah before it’s too late to do anything.

Andy Leishman at the reunion still thinks of himself as a ladies man. Marv still works, fearing to slow down. The other men have their grandchildren and special projects. What do I have? St. Joseph the Worker is one thing. But Ash, well, he’s a special project indeed.

Fear is useless, what is needed is trust. Two weeks in Istanbul with Ash. What a gamble. It is so intriguing but I have only myself to consult. I have no one else with whom to mull this over. Perhaps I’ll give Doug a call.

I’ve been in this pickle before. Torn between my head and heart, twisted between magical thinking and dread. My problem is that I don’t freely consult with others about this. Without a spouse or a close friend (Scott?) I tend to churn the thinking inside like trying to polish rocks in my head. Lots of noise, but little to show for it. And of course when I send a message to Ash saying “I’m ready to book a ticket. Are you ready?” I get no response.  Which makes me hesitate. Do I book the ticket with the option of cancelling if I need to? I’ve already missed one window of opportunity via Hopper. If I book through Travelocity, I can cancel up to 24 hours before the flight. That’s a good deal I think.

So, I should book the ticket. Make some hotel reservations, and see what happens next.


So, as I was going about my quotidian activities, I thought “Why am I going to Istanbul? What do I hope to accomplish?”

At the most, it would be two weeks with a young man about whom I know a little. I suppose we would have sex (or at least lots of effort in trying to have) and we’d go about town to see the sights. But, when the time came to depart, what then? Two weeks of what… being together and then good bye? I had that with Firman in Bali. While it is memorable (I have a shower made in the likeness of the one we shared at Pury Wimpy) there’s nothing except some whispy nostalgia. What will he have? Two weeks with an old man in Istanbul? And then what? In an ideal world, if we were compatible, we could become partners for life. We don’t live in that world anymore, (if we ever did) so our good byes will be really GOOD BYE.

I suppose I’ll get it out of my system. It will be a memory of sorts. It’ll be in my bucket. Maybe that’s the thing about being in a bucket: it’s not a step that leads to a future’ it’s merely an occasion that is done and out of the way. Perhaps going to Istanbul is just for the purpose of going to Istanbul with Ash: nothing more or less than that. Is that sufficient? Hmm.


2 Responses to “Ash”

  1. topoet Says:

    I’m your age & you know, I’d rather regret risks I’ve taken than regret opportunities that fear kept me from taking 🙂

  2. danbythesea1 Says:

    Thank you for that comment. I appreciate your thoughtfulness. Dan

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