As flies to wanton boys, are we to the gods; they kill us for their sport.

And suddenly I begin to understand why people like younger boys. Or girls.

Some prefer older men because they’re wiser and more mature. More experienced and more understanding, sometimes. More secure and nurturing. Really appeals to younger bodies with older souls or daddy issues.

Nathan doesn’t want me as a partner, a boyfriend. It was him who said “Do not assume we wouldn’t date.” and “Do not assume you’re gonna get the worse side of things.” Maybe he doesn’t understand I have instincts about how things would turn out.

He listens to me. And I mean really listening. If you compare him to me, I remember small details you mention, yes. But I summarize the messages and conclude what actions to be taken out. He listens and respond.

Often I feel lonely, because I do not feel heard. Friends and many tell me I could talk to them, but they never come to mind when I need someone. Maybe they are willing to listen, but they are not sensitive enough to respond. I want to see a ripple in them when I cast a stone.

Nathan does. He makes me feel loved. I often feel like a burden, but I want to be valued like a gift.

 

“Talking to him was like playing upon an exquisite violin. He answered to every touch and thrill of the bow. . . . There was something terribly enthralling in the exercise of influence. No other activity was like it. To project one’s soul into some gracious form, and let it tarry there for a moment; to hear one’s own intellectual views echoed back to one with all the added music of passion and youth; to convey one’s temperament into another as though it were a subtle fluid or a strange perfume…”

That was Dorian Gray.

People with a fulltime job cannot afford to listen as closely. Only the young with too much time to kill, “so inexperienced yet so curious” get to be so responsive. Two years ago I was described as such and I took offense. And now I begin to understand what is so precious about young boys. Or young girls. For a second I wish this is exclusive to gay men, but on instant hindsight I wish not. Gays are too dismissive about emotional health. They tend to think good sex cures everything.

I think about LittleSean, a guy I met on an online sex chatroom, how he wanted to be a toddler and i therefore wanted to be seventeen. We roleplayed as daddy bringing his babe to the park and ate strawberry ice cream. I think about how he wanted both platonic and sexual acts, and I could not bring myself to say “I would lay him on the kitchen bar table and lick across his delicate skin.” I wished we could be teenagers who wanted each other. And who didn’t want to be alone. And who could not quite tell the difference between the two.

I guess nobody wants to hear all that.

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