One sleepless night

As my devastatingly sexy hubby and I close in on 9 months together, I’m starting to get a little nostalgic. I’ve already written about how the two of us met, but with Dirk 3,000 miles away right now (doing a photo shoot for Mr. S Leather) and me having a bit more free time than usual, I thought I’d take a moment to continue the story.

I have difficulty sleeping when I travel… or rather, when I’m about to travel. I get inordinately stressed out when I pack, focusing too much on unnecessary minutiae while overlooking major details (such as, oh, remembering to bring my wallet or passport). I stress about getting to the airport, which once left me so distracted that I actually locked my keys in my car at the Park-N-Ride lot on my way to San Francisco to film Command Performance. I stress even when there’s no reason to stress: if I have an afternoon or evening flight and I’m all ready to go, I can still barely focus on my work during the day. Needless to say, the anticipation of travel is not my friend. (Oddly, once I’m actually seated on the plane I’m perfectly fine.)

Gay Bowl XI in Houston, TX

Last October I participated in the national flag football championships in Houston (despite having a rather significant leg injury and having played a grand total of 2.5 flag football games in my entire life… but that’s another story), and right on cue, I couldn’t sleep the night before my flight. I had just met Dirk two weeks earlier at the Folsom Street Fair (read the full story here), but we’d been talking on the phone almost daily since then (he lives in Chicago and I’m in Boston). He’s a night owl, so he offered to keep me company telephonically while I packed. The conversation started at about 1 am and lasted for several hours… I remember we talked about our experiences in the porn industry, about our families and childhoods, and about the nature of relationships (sort of a continuation of our ongoing conversation that had started in SF). By 4:15 am, I’d finally finished packing and was exhausted. “Well, I think I’m ready to go,” I muttered sleepily. And then for some reason I blurted out, “Wanna join me?”

I didn’t expect him to say yes.

Rather than answering “Oh, I’d love to, but it’s so last minute…” or “That would be too expensive” or “Thanks, but I have plans,” Dirk responded with “Hmmmm… what an interesting idea!” He had an uncharacteristically free weekend with only one lunch date that he could postpone, and he’d just gotten paid for his work at Folsom so he had a little extra cash. I jumped online and found a great last-minute fare from Chicago to Houston. And the next thing you knew, we were together in Texas.

And it was electric.

Thank goodness he didn’t arrive until the very end of my very last game (he got to see me in a grand total of two plays) because I might have been too distracted to play. We went back to our hotel room… and we didn’t leave it for 24 hours. The sex, needless to say, was incendiary. It was unlike anything I’d ever experienced before. That man can hit some pretty amazing spots (I get hard just thinking about it!), and some of those sounds he made when I topped him… well, I’d never heard anything like it. But there was more to it than that. We were really bonding. In the space between our hot fuck sessions, we talked about love, art, music, politics, poetry, douching techniques… anything and everything. We were just so comfortable with each other. We cuddled on the couch watching Don Hertzfeldt shorts (“My spoon is too big!”) and episodes of QI. Finally, exhausted from a sleepless night, at 7 am we walked over to Le Peep restaurant on Westheimer Road, hand in hand, knowing we’d finally found each other.

It was far and away the strongest connection with another human being I’d ever felt. And my flag football teammates noticed. When it came time to take the team photo, we were supposed to meet at the hotel pool at 1:30 pm, but I didn’t get the message until 5 minutes beforehand (I’d missed the original messages because Dirk and I had been “busy” in our hotel room). Just before photo time, I got a text from one of my teammates:

We hastily pulled on our pants and ran to the pool, somewhat red-faced but happy.

Our last day in Houston was bittersweet. My flight back to Boston left about an hour before Dirk’s left for Chicago, so he was able to see me off at the gate (I can’t remember the last time anyone did that, what with FAA restrictions about who can and can’t pass security). We were pretty sad… but we both knew that this wasn’t goodbye. It was more of a “see you soon.” Although we officially consider the day we first met (September 22, 2011, during Folsom weekend) to be our anniversary, one could argue that it was that moment, standing in Terminal A of George Bush Intercontinental Airport, somehow knowing that our life together had only just begun.

Dirk and I say goodbye see you soon in Houston

More details of our many adventures to come…

10 replies
    • Jesse
      Jesse says:

      Sorry to say… I’ve only driven through West Virginia, and I’m pretty sure I was asleep. I bought the t-shirt at a thrift store while we were in Houston.

      Reply
  1. DRB
    DRB says:

    All I can say is “awww” and I’m glad you two are happy and doing well.

    Douching techniques, do tell lol 🙂

    Reply
  2. Mark Pompelia
    Mark Pompelia says:

    Hey! Great story about Houston, just now seeing that you were there. I lived there from 2000-2010 before moving to Providence. Hope you got to enjoy some pool parties and Mexican food—and very friendly guys. 🙂

    Reply

Trackbacks & Pingbacks

  1. […] Dirk and I met at the Folsom Street Fair in 2011, our connection was immediate and strong. When we got together in Houston a few weeks later, our suspicions were confirmed: This could be something great. Since then […]

  2. […] even played with Boston’s delegation at the national gay flag football championship (where I cemented my relationship with Dirk, by the way) and hope to again next […]

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