Hot Boy Summer

I remember the feeling I felt holding you and onto everything we created that weekend.

The object of desire.

I remember the feeling I felt holding you and onto everything we created that weekend. It was not a single instance but a collection of memories that reveal why I admitted loving you so quickly. I did not want to release myself back into the monotony my life had become. Simply put, I desired a life as free as the love I felt while lying next to you. These thoughts replay themselves for me in my gallery on sunny days. Time passes, a few days, weeks, months; Google asks me, “do you remember this day?”

Most of my life up until that point had been fraudulent. I compromised to appease an obligation or relationship, both platonic and romantic. I was living in a pseudo-version of myself—my existence lacked primal desire and truth. Growing up, I was dubbed, “church boy” due to my vernacular and charismatic mannerisms. What was meant as a compliment, pigeonholed my individuality and characterized the trajectory of my life by the restrictions imposed by the status quo. The implication and assertation thrust upon me further intensified my indignation and longing for an unadulterated narrative.

Wanting you to be near me each moment had less to do with the comfort you provided and more of the freedom I desired.

As you wrapped your arms around my waist, I began to relinquish the need to control. The situation unfolding before me was happening organically. I did not have to navigate fixating on my movements, balancing the displays of masculinity and feminity in my smile or sway of my hips. I lift my head up to you and look into your eyes. In them I see desire; I only desire to be authentically present.

I can still see your reflection on the back of my phone, front-facing you.

I can still smell your breath on mine. As I leaned back for you, pleasure radiates on rail posts, bed sheets, and dark beaches beneath moonlight.

We head to the pool on a sunny afternoon in speedo too tight to move in. My smile spreads my lower back for your hands. You graze my spine down the steps to the blue infinity pool. The water, my mood, and the sky are in perfect harmony. I reminisce on the moments, in between nose-diving underwater and coming back up for air again, leaving behind the person I was. He could not have dreamt a more vibrant hue. I projected my fears of inadequacy more than I protected myself from the sharks of self-doubt. I sought opportunities where the expression of my identity was not limited by the people around me. Eventually, I found the fault in this defense mechanism as well. I had created a reactionary personality that when threatened would counteract and contradict my natural desires. I wash these thoughts away, leaving them beneath the surface.

You whisk me into your arms. Carelessly saying nothing when there was nothing to say. Giving me hardy laughs when the two of us found something we enjoyed.

A sight worth capturing.

I had to understand for myself what it was I wanted. My savior came in the form of a beautiful man, who reflected me with each longing gaze. He was freedom and human. Human in the sense that perfection was not a virtue you desired. I wanted to be the person you saw or at the very least the one I saw in your eyes. Who displayed frustration at late appointments, time wasted, sighs, tears, late nights, and early mornings snoring.

Being with you brought back possibility of simply being.

There is no singular way to exist. I had forgotten this simple rule and at my core lost sight of who I wanted to be. When you stepped into my life I was able to witness a gentle presence that was assertive, aggressive, and submissive. Slowly, I let down my guard and opened my hands to the world. I reveled in the adventure of the two of us. Led by your free spirit while uncovering the truth of myself. I worked diligently combatting outside labels and assertions, I did not realize the wall forming around me that kept people at bay. I protected myself from the entities I wanted to attract.

Take care of yourself, you say as I step out of your car and back into the revolving door of the hotel.

Each event I accompanied you on was an exercise in letting go.



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