the Pink Professor.
We met on the street and greeted each other like two old slippers, our normal thing. It's all quite buddy buddy, no real distance at this point, as you can well imagine. When you're completely sympatico, you just do whatever, a hug, an elbow bump, nose rubbing, anything you want. It's all the same.
The key thing is the soul connection, and that's definitely there. You look at a thousand girls or guys and none of them are the one, although, of course, at a basic level, if you were on a desert island, they'd do. I see a bunch of people and immediately think, Could we have something? And the answer is nearly 100% of the time, No.
Even seeing two people out together -- obviously sympatico -- doesn't always raise any desire in me, since there's always something that seems off. It's like looking for your double; you always figure one's out there somewhere, only you never seem to meet.
But in the Pink Professor, I found exactly what I was looking for!
I'm not at liberty to say his actual name. He serves as the Pink Professor figure at one of the local bikers bars, a beautiful softening presence (spirit) for the erstwhile roughnecks who hang out there. He gives that special flavor that any assembly needs, and also smooths the way for newbies, families, and other non-stereotypical guests. I know because I was one! Someone could've taken a pool cue to me, but the Pink Professor was there to welcome me.
It started out like that ... and it's blossomed in the last couple months into something very special, to the point that we shuffle around his place or my place in our bathrobes, enjoying each other's company, naturally with the curtains drawn. We don't even have to talk, that's how close we are. He might sweep hand through the air, as if to say, "We've got the whole place to ourselves." Then I might point at the door, as if to say, "We're all here!" Then he might motion to the couch, as if to say, "The couch looks like a comfortable sofa." And I nod, as if in agreement.
What I said above, being a couple old slippers is my favorite-most image to describe this relationship. If there's ever a ceremony, I'd love to see a couple miniature bronzed slippers -- small, of course -- on top of the cake. I might try to get the "Cake Boss" guy on TV to make one, since he might come up with some way to animate the whole cake -- plywood, PCP pipes, styrofoam, and cake -- making for a real celebration.
Anyway, we met today downtown to have breakfast at some little place that's cool. You go there and you immediately feel you're going to be comfortable. You look over and some guy's reading a newspaper by the window. That's cool. Or two women will be sitting in the corner, lost in each other's eyes. To me, that's cool. Who am I to judge?
We ordered. And being the Pink Professor and his dear friend-- who am also something of a guy with a Pink Professor mindset -- we were courteous and caring for the waitress to the max. What we give at the bikers bar, it's our strict ethic to give everywhere else. It comes natural to us, to be total nice guys, caring for everyone.
Our food came and we ate it. We both like the same kinds of food, eggs, bacon, muffins, coffee, so that's remarkable.
We kept the small talk flowing freely, and the other kind of small talk we're known for, i.e., body language. I look over at him and sigh, as if to say, "Why can't it always be like this?" And he pats my hand, as if to say, "This is just the beginning. We're still relatively young, 60ish or under." I put my hand up and drop it back to the table, as if to say, "I don't mind aging, just so I have someone to spend the years with." And he nods, as if to say, "You got it. You got it ... and I got it too!"
What a beautiful time we both had at breakfast. We made other plans for later. Then a quick embrace and he needed to get to work, his professorial duties. I went home, very happy, stars in my eyes and my belly nicely full.