Jan 16, 2017 16:26
Darryl's farewell had all the trappings of a final concert with many testimonials, first from our support group and then a rather public "seeing off" from Boris during breakfast. The latter, a boyish looking forty-something who was seated next to me, was as nervous as a tick as he sought to time every mouthful of yogurt he took with the exact moment his boyfriend would get up to say, goodbye to the entire workshop.
The moment came and went with Darryl sharing a couple of highlights and great appreciations for the workshop leaders. Then, it was up to Boris to head up an escort group that accompanied Darryl, ostensibly to help him carry his bags, but, really just to hang out with him as he waited for his livery car.
And, as they say in the wide world, when one door closes another one often opens and the fact remained that with Darryl's departure, the way opened up to hang out with Boris - who I've known a lot longer - without fear of arousing anyone's jealousy material. And, they were far from the only power couple at the workshop. The dining room was sprinkled with them, all behaving with great discretion, sitting at separate tables, pretending not to have an eye on where their husbands and partners were at all times.
Years ago, I would have resolved to have a session with at least some of them, that being the highest level of intimacy you can achieve at a workshop (or, so I thought.) But, such things quickly get lost in the process of winking and nodding from across a crowded meeting space and an entire workshop can go by without my counseling anyone on my "wish list".
instead, I found myself picking small moments of connecting with different people, usually a hug or a word or two of appreciation. Not long after breakfast I saw Boris standing alone along the last row of chairs in the meeting space, pretending to listen to David. I just sidled up next to him and let my hand rest on the back of his shoulder blade. As soon as I did it I knew it would be the closest I would be to him for at least another twelve months. So, I let it stay there. I didn't keep count or look at my watch or anything like that, but, I let it stay until my hand told me when it was time to let go. That was after about a minute. He nodded when I indicated I would be taking a seat.
There was a rather fun couple from the Bay area. Or, at least, I took them to be a couple. The May-December variety. I kicked myself once again for missing their introduction because I'm sure it would have filled in a lot of useful information. Like, were they actually lovers? Instead, I just decided to treat them as though they were and made sure not to hog the attention of the younger of the two, another frisky, happy YA.
His partner was approximately my age. I read him as retired. He wore sandals and t-shirts that could have been tie-dyed (but, alas, were not) and a knit cap that looked like it might have been purchased from a boutique. They both reached out to me at different times during the workshop, but, it wasn't until Saturday afternoon that I figured out a way to connect with both of them at the same time, in a way that was both intimate and public, discrete and notorious all at the same time.
The older gentleman was some sort of professional facilitator. He was very anxious to organize a play activity for that time in the workshop when people are usually suffering from cabin fever and anxious to get out of doors and get some exercise. Except that on this particular Saturday the outside temperature had fallen to about nineteen degrees outside and most people were staying indoors. I'll call the older guy Sam and the younger guy, Aaron.
I seem to be drawn (aside from all my other ESM material) to very theatrical people because eventually what Sam organized during the play period was very much like a class on improvisational comedy. About thirty people formed a circle and took turns partnering with the people next to them, making up stories out of words and suggestions thrown out by Sam. The object seemed to be to get people relaxed enough verbally with each other that they didn't mind being silly or saying silly things. By the end of the exercise, I couldn't help but notice that Sam had shuffled the couples enough times to eventually be one of my partners.
Then, things got really sexy.
Sam switched from verbal agility to freeing up our ability to move. It started with just people in the circle copying things Sam did with his hands and feet. So far, so good. The next step was to mimic these things, without any prompting from Sam, but, instead with another person. I don't know how we got paired together, but, somehow I got Aaron as a partner.
Did I mention that Aaron was hot? I mean hawt.
I had quite forgotten how sexy it is to move (or, attempt to move) in tandem with another human being. I felt it at the Winter Party last year when I waltzed with Colette to a live band rendition of "Moon River". We could have been doing a tango for all that it mattered. It felt daring.
The same thing happened with Aaron and me. I don't remember Sam putting on music. If he did it would have been in competition with a party going on several yards away with other co-counselors. Maybe he did. Or, maybe Aaron and I just started to make up our own music? We were twisting and turning, using the palms of our hands as leading indicators. Should we turn? Should we touch? Should we untouch? Sam had given everyone the same vocabulary to work with and then just discreetly stepped away - dancing in place by himself - while the rest of us twitched and twirled around him.
I felt bold. I felt virile. I was sorry that things had to wind to a close, but, at the same time thankful that it all came to a graceful stop without my feeling foolish or having to spend the rest of the weekend "processing" what happened. Aaron and I danced. Period.
sam,
music,
gays,
darryl,
aaron,
rc