I was thinking about Ron and myself on the walk home from a nice salad and slice o’ pizza at Pompei. I think that our chance meeting was really a good thing – that we didn’t have time to email and discuss things or hear from friends about how wonderful the other one was. I wasn’t able to indulge in fantasies of Who Ron Might Be and What We Might Do. I thought he was probably another gaysian partyboy gymbunny only interested in an older white daddy (but that smile kept convincing me of more…) and he thought I was another arrogant white dumb hunk brandwhore that wouldn’t even bother with anyone non-white… And I’d had piss-ant luck with dating as of late so I wasn’t hugely hopeful. I still contend that it’s a numbers game. T______ was a close one – close to something deeper and longer and more meaningful – he proved to me that there was someone out there that had a large percentage of what I find attractive/essential. Ron comes even closer to being that Grail (as I immediately recoil from using such imagery). We both agree that it is a good thing that we didn’t meet online – as a trick – it would have soured our development, I think. Plus, the tonsillectomy put the brakes on for a week or so and we spent time together instead of just idling to the next roll in the hay.