Closed all weekend.  ___ came over both nights and watched T.V. and slept.  It was nice.  Am not sure why I am so entranced with the image of a sleeping man.  Except, of course, for the old saying: "They can't hurt you when they're unconscious."

I mean, I don't want ___ to think that I think he would hurt me.  I trust him not to.  And, let's face it, we have more interesting talks when he's awake.  Old habits die hard, I guess.

He asked me Friday night what my view was on "all this".  Like, what does that mean?  I am too stupid sometimes.  Did he mean him?  His sexuality?  Him and ___? Him and I?  I don't know.

I love him.  He's smart, interesting, generous, chivalrous, cute (tee hee) and funny.  But, if you mean  do I LOVE him, no.  I'm not prepared to do that.

I think his sexuality is part and parcel of all that he is, regardless of whether it's 50/50, 60/40, or  100% either way, whatever, it is a part of him that he would be less without.  I think it's fabulous, but what the hell do I know?  I do know it's a vital, alive part of him, sometimes even without his knowing it.