My Gentle Man Lover

The rumors are true. I have taken a Man Lover.

It's such a cliche, I know. Especially at my age. What am I going to do next, dye my hair? Buy a Porsche? Become a Republican?

Hopefully not. Seriously, could you see me as a blonde? No, for now my supple lapse in heterosexuality becomes the next questionable stain on my curriculum vitae, which it must be noted has been almost entirely clear of what many of my former peers adamantly insisted would be a scatological rap sheet of licentious, bestial faggotry.

But my Man Lover is streets ahead of such wicked depravity. Brecklyn is a class act. He has not one, but TWO bands, for which he provides hand drums and second back-up vocals. He has an amazingly decked-out (or as he says, 'brecked-out') second story loft above a beautifully restored 1968 Chevelle in his friend's garage (he doesn't drive, because of "you know, the enviro-ment, and oil just being... (he makes this great face where he raises his eyebrows and shrugs his shoulders while waving his hands around.)) He's in great shape due to riding his bicycle to and from the gym every day (not to exercise, but to hand out flyers promoting his bands and his landscaping company), which at first I have to say was a bit daunting, but soon found paid off when I enlisted his services to help me move that aquarium my great aunt died in back down to the foyer.

He's a giver. Did I mention that my Man Lover is quite the gentle Man Lover? Indeed. Brecklyn has a tender, seraphic touch, albeit hardy and virile when necessary. I swear, the man has the hands of a Messianic masseuse, or an 11 year old Korean seamstress; they're downright Dickensian.
Which brings me to one of the many issues I have begun to take with patronizing a Man Lover.

Brecklyn is a man. Now I was all for the concept of obtaining a swashbuckling swain, at first. However, the actualization of said desire has brought about it's share of hiccups, and not just due to sensitive gag reflexes. For you see, try as he might sometimes, Brecklyn just is not a woman. I know his attempts are mostly designed to please and entice me, perhaps thinking I would be more responsive to a temperate transition phase, and I can appreciate that. However, his requests to be "titty-fucked" and ongoing references to his "butt-gina" just aren't eliciting our mutual aspirations for desire. Which is probably why I keep sleeping with women.

Yes, this was never meant to be any sort of permanent replacement. I am simply a man of covetous ambition. When I hear talk of the countless hours of joy and delight brought to others by services rendered from a Man Lover, then I am prone to pursue such hedonism. Perhaps I was a bit hasty. I may have jumped the love gun in my acquisition of the first robust specimen I beckoned to play my proxy box. I suppose one hopes to squire a seasoned veteran when partaking in such games of stopgap claptrap and sham ma'am (if you're in the need for a good TSTVTG law firm).
Not to discredit Brecklyn.

He's a good man, and thorough.