freedom for Dad

Christie and I visited my dad one day last week. He's living on his own now since his brother (and roommate for some 40+ years) recently died. My uncle had lived well into his 80s, so it wasn't a tragic death. His heart just gave up after a long illness. But neverthess Dad is now on his own.

Without my uncle to rule the roost, as he surely did, my dad has a new freedom. Sure, he misses having my uncle to talk to, but he's calling me more now which is allowing me to get to know him better. And he's been going out every day, which is something he pretty much avoided due to a lifelong battle with anxiety/depression.

If you recall, Dad spent the better part of 2009 in the hospital after having fallen at home. His arthritis has crippled him where he can barely walk on his own anymore. Other complications prevented him from being discharged for the longest time. Besides, he was not able to get around, and my uncle was too frail to be of much help at home. So, until my dad could build up his strength, he was kept in the hospital.

All that time without my uncle telling him what to do, and what to think, my dad seemed to open up in many ways. He seemed genuinely happy at the last hospital he was at. He had a private room overlooking the city skyline. It was clean, quiet and he had dressed it up with a lot of his own things that visitors brought from his home.

The nurses just adored Dad and hung his photos (photography's his hobby) all over the ward. It made my dad so proud which is a huge deal for a man who never felt good about himself. The nurses would tell me what a sweet man he is, and it really touched me. For the first time I felt honored that he was my father. Sounds awful that that was the first time, but this is a man I never quite got to know as he was always so drugged up with meds. I grew up knowing that he was my father, but never felt a bond with him.

Things between my dad and me have been very superficial for my whole life. He has not been much of an influence, but maybe we'll get a short chance to have some kind of relationship now. He's getting older and more importantly, doesn't take very good care of himself. Plus, I am moving to California in a few months. So, if it doesn't happen now, it probably never will.

It's too late for me to tell him how to eat, remind him to exercise, all that's pointless. He drinks his Diet Coke by the gallon, eats no vegetables, and depends on meds to make him comfortable in every way possible. His approach towards health is very different from mine. But at least I can visit him and bring some happiness to his day. And I can clean his place. OMG pigsty. They were hoarders their whole lives, so there is barely room to sit when I do go there. Well, that's another story.

We had a nice visit with Dad. After scrubbing his kitchen and bathroom, he took us out to eat. My favorite part was seeing him happy, seeing him talk to the waitress, and enjoying his 4 cups of coffee and 3 egg omelet with cheese (roll eyes here). Things were going so swimmingly on this outing, that I decided it was time to tell him about the move.

"Dad, Christie and I have some exciting news... We're planning a move."

Dad smiles big. "You're moving back here?"

"No Dad, a big move."

"To California?"

Now I smile big..."Yeah."

He launches into a 5 minute story about the purchase of his zoom lens, where he bought it 5 years ago, how much it cost, etc etc. All the while I'm thinking how strange this is, but it's not. Not strange at all considering this is my dad.

Another 10 minutes go by. Dad pipes in, "Well I'm disappointed about your exciting news. But I hope you find all that you're looking for there."

"Thanks, Dad." And really all I can do is reassure him that we'll be back home to visit a couple times a year.

"And there's always the telephone," he adds.

"Of course."

a la paradise

On our first night, Andy and I bought some incredibly cheap wine. Well, really it was great wine--Woodbridge Cabernet--but so cheap in California compared to back East.

I'd just taken a shower since I'd opted to skip one at 4:45 in the morning, having to leave for the airport at that God forsaken hour. So, all fresh and clean and comfy in my pj bottoms and tank top, I cracked open the bottle of red and poured it into one of his drinking glasses with a cow on it (nope, not a wine glass to be seen in that bachelor pad). What the hell, I was on vacation, therefore nothing was worth sweating over.

We sat on the bench out front of his building and I marvelled at the tall palms above us, and the crop of bamboo growing behind us. Whaaa? Bamboo? I was anxiously awaiting pandas to come for a feeding. No pandas, just Andy, and he's just as squeezable. I love California! I loved that wine!

We drank. We flirted. We exchanged adoring looks till it got dark. Hey, let's go for a walk he said. He took my hand and we walked up a block to Santa Monica Blvd. Around the corner and he led me into a world I'd never seen before. The city was alive.

It was a beautiful balmy night, but just chilly enough to make me aware of my nipples. Hell, I was practically naked. No undies, just one thin layer between my goosebumps and the night air. It felt sweet, like newfound freedom. Walking in pyjamas is not the strangest thing one would see on Santa Monica Blvd. No one gave me a second look. Except Andy, of course.

Most interesting were the displays in store windows; mannequins made of cork, and chains, a few gay sex shops, but tasteful, and amazing furniture stores. Mouth-watering smells wafted out of sidewalk cafes, blaring horns sounded like symphonies and couples in love paused at corners, kissing.

We were one of them. What a perfect opening night. We went home and Andy and I made love in his bed for the first time.

alone time

Sometimes I just like to be alone. No men. No children. No relatives. No dog. Just me in my house for a whoooole day.

I like to putter, to rummage through boxes. I have a box with all my diaries in it from age 16 to age 40ish. I could spend a week leafing through those. But I don't.

I like to get my house clean and have no one else there to mess it up. I love to get stuff done that I never have time to get to otherwise.

I like to play board games by myself. I've played Life with all 8 cars, and Risk with all the colors--is it 6? This makes me feel like a nutcase but I don't really care.

I like to get as much stuff accomplished in a day as possible. That is anal, but it surely drives me and makes me feel good at the end of the day.

I like to get into my most comfortable clothes and lounge in my bedroom. Sometimes I read, sometimes I look at the tv (but rarely find something worth watching). Sometimes I get to go to bed early!

No man is an island, and certainly no woman is either, especially me. I'm just sayin...it's a relief to do what you want once in a while without regard for anyone else.

saint Rob

Let's not forget about the man that made this all possible. What I mean is, it was Rob's understanding and patience that allowed me to delve into a new experience that I craved, without feeling bad about it.

What man could do this? What man could let a woman he loves go in a direction that could lead her away from him? Apparently Rob can. He's done it twice before, and it's gruelling, he says. Though this time was much more serious because he knew that I planned to be intimate with Andy, when in the past I had not.

He let me go because he knew I needed to do this. That's the benefit of all the talks we had about the subject--everything from safe sex to what are you going to do with the painting when I come over?

I tried to consider Rob's feelings throughout my two extended weekends with Andy. I replied to a couple emails he'd sent me and I even called him one morning while Andy was in the shower. I felt I needed him to know I hadn't abandoned him. And in between the weekends with Andy, I did go to Rob's house...

We didn't know what to expect regarding our feelings for each other once I'd been intimate with Andy. But it turned out there was still a spark. And lots of loving care. He was happy to see me, and so was his penis. I must say I was thankful for that. We got reacquainted talking on the couch, but before long we were in bed.

Sex was great. I wanted his big cock and he was glad to give it to me. I needed an orgasm and he willingly delivered. His pride swelled even bigger than his cock that night. I felt physically satisfied and perhaps a little sad. Sad for both the men I love.

I went back with Andy a few days after being with Rob. Andy and I grew much closer in that 2nd weekend, but we didn't evolve much further sexually. That was ok with me. I feel that people need time to learn each other. And I do not feel rushed for time with Andy.

By the time Andy left, I felt bonded to him. I felt as if he was my primary boyfriend and my most promising prospect for the future. I hadn't a clue how we were going to erase the 2500 miles between us, but it was only the feeling that mattered.

I've since been with Rob a couple times. Both were good visits, with open and caring discussion, and lovemaking. I was not nearly as attracted to Rob this time, but he was very comforting to me, more like a friend. I didn't feel quite right though, having Rob in my bed. I felt that having him over violated what little I had left of Andy here. I didn't enjoy removing Andy's painting from above my bed. I didn't want to part with Andy's energy at all. In fact, I struggled when I had to toss the sheets he'd slept on into the washing machine.

Being with Rob always begins casually for me now. But somehow we get pulled into each other the closer we get to the peak. When it's all over, my heart opens and I start feeling sad. I question myself and wonder if I am throwing away something good. The closeness, the history, the connection. They really are gifts of God. I've often sensed God joining us right in the bedroom. I have no doubt about it.

But God has also shown me that I can have what I want. He's shown me that I can recreate love. There is not only one true love. I've had Cam, I've had Rob, and now I have Andy.