HPRaptor
The 20s30s group had another potluck dinner/discussion. Much like this one:
http://johnwesley73.livejournal.com/175742.html
The only difference was that the topic was sex (actually, the whole thing was, "No Sex Please, We're Episcopalians" -- but, we won't talk about the title.)
The odd thing was that when we had our last talk and the subject was about relationships and dating, we couldn't wait to talk about sex. Now, that the subject was sex -- all we could talk about was dating. We're a very contrary bunch.
And, once again, the married folk tended to stake out the most judgmental position on everything. Rev. Kate was the exception; she tried very hard to play honest broker between the unmarrieds and marrieds (the latter which included her husband.)
Not that anyone was mean spirited or anything. Just spirited.
I felt bad for VRaptor. I felt that it was my fault he was taking all of these shots across The Vow from Frontpage and Pageboy.
After all, I'd spent the better part of last year encouraging him to trust his sexual feelings with LP and to ditch the whole "I worship you as a Holy vessel" routine (it wasn't working, anyway.)
So, now here he is for the second month in a row, being made to feel like he's the poster boy for fornication. For a moment, I felt like I was Kelvin hissing little digs at his friend Joe back in church down in Virginia. "Yo, Rap! Feelin' a little uncomfortable, over there? I'll switch seats with ya'." Not really.
But, then, something very interesting happened. VRaptor started getting pissed off. He started directing his remarks directly at Frontpage. I scanned my memories for where I had seen that look before and then suddenly, I realized it: VRaptor had turned into Harry Potter.
He had that same impatient umbrage that Harry takes whenever someone -- Dumbledore, Rufus -- usually, someone he admires greatly, has disappointed him somehow. Both VRaptor and Harry think with their hearts to a far greater degree than they think with their heads, IMO.
Fittingly, our walk down Broadway had a JK Rowling-esque feel to it.
Now that he only lives a few blocks from church, our walks take only a few minutes. It was all I could do to get the basics of what had happened in California. The Man From Brown seems to be doing all right; he should have served as the perfect advertisement for Ivy League married life. But, just as we arrived at the front of No. 133 1/2 West 95 Street, VRaptor said with a deep sigh, "He's fine. Too bad, I have other problems." TO BE CONTINUED.
http://johnwesley73.livejournal.com/175742.html
The only difference was that the topic was sex (actually, the whole thing was, "No Sex Please, We're Episcopalians" -- but, we won't talk about the title.)
The odd thing was that when we had our last talk and the subject was about relationships and dating, we couldn't wait to talk about sex. Now, that the subject was sex -- all we could talk about was dating. We're a very contrary bunch.
And, once again, the married folk tended to stake out the most judgmental position on everything. Rev. Kate was the exception; she tried very hard to play honest broker between the unmarrieds and marrieds (the latter which included her husband.)
Not that anyone was mean spirited or anything. Just spirited.
I felt bad for VRaptor. I felt that it was my fault he was taking all of these shots across The Vow from Frontpage and Pageboy.
After all, I'd spent the better part of last year encouraging him to trust his sexual feelings with LP and to ditch the whole "I worship you as a Holy vessel" routine (it wasn't working, anyway.)
So, now here he is for the second month in a row, being made to feel like he's the poster boy for fornication. For a moment, I felt like I was Kelvin hissing little digs at his friend Joe back in church down in Virginia. "Yo, Rap! Feelin' a little uncomfortable, over there? I'll switch seats with ya'." Not really.
But, then, something very interesting happened. VRaptor started getting pissed off. He started directing his remarks directly at Frontpage. I scanned my memories for where I had seen that look before and then suddenly, I realized it: VRaptor had turned into Harry Potter.
He had that same impatient umbrage that Harry takes whenever someone -- Dumbledore, Rufus -- usually, someone he admires greatly, has disappointed him somehow. Both VRaptor and Harry think with their hearts to a far greater degree than they think with their heads, IMO.
Fittingly, our walk down Broadway had a JK Rowling-esque feel to it.
Now that he only lives a few blocks from church, our walks take only a few minutes. It was all I could do to get the basics of what had happened in California. The Man From Brown seems to be doing all right; he should have served as the perfect advertisement for Ivy League married life. But, just as we arrived at the front of No. 133 1/2 West 95 Street, VRaptor said with a deep sigh, "He's fine. Too bad, I have other problems." TO BE CONTINUED.