With every new destination comes a decision to marry it or room with it. We moved to a new home and new neighborhood this past weekend. I decided to marry this one.
Seriously, it’s like that for me. The first days in our new home have been a honeymoon of making love, getting to know one another, and risking bits of our past to see if the new home can be trusted. It’s only a few days, but so far this one is off to a good start.
In Love With Home
Our last home wasn’t like that. I didn’t fall in love. I only roomed. It was a move of survival, not of intention and maybe I resented not being able to choose. This is different. We’re here because we want to be. We want a new start. A clean canvas. We have dreams and projects. We need dreams and projects.
I rode my bicycle to my office today. I hope it will be the first of a lot of rides. I feel as though I’m connected to this neighborhood. It has a history. Famous writers. Fortunes were made here. Politics, crime, and drama unfolded here over one-hundred-fifty years.
As I worked out this move with my partner and family, I realized that for a guy, sexuality is more than just relating to people, but it has a strong role in relating to a place. Where we are is as important to how we thrive as much as who we’re with.
I don’t have a man cave. I don’t even have a garage. I do however have five coffee shops, a used bookstore, and live music within a five-minute walk. I won’t be crafting furniture or overhauling engines, but I will for sure be tinkering with ideas about guy sex.
Excuse me while I return to my honeymoon.
Till next time.