Invisible Man on Second

Whenever I am in a conversation about me having kids, I cringe. I usually try to avoid the subject by saying that I don’t plan on having kids. Sometimes that backfires because then the other wants to know why I won’t be having kids. To tell you the truth, it does bother me that odds of having children are slimmer because I am gay. But when it comes down to it, that really doesn’t have anything to do with it. I’m not sure I would make a good father.

As I was running at the Y, I spied on a father and his two children that were playing down below in the gymnasium. The kids were so young, I couldn’t even venture a good guess as to how old they were. The three were shooting hoops. The young boy was given a volleyball because it was lighter. The even younger girl was hoisted up so she could actually get the ball in the basket. I kept watching them at half-minute intervals as I made my run.

Eventually, the little boy grew tired of basketball and wanted to play kickball. He marched up to the Y icon in the middle of the room saying, “This is home base.” Then he went on to mark out first base and so on.

Home base I had forgotten about that. I would have called it home plate.

When I came back around, they were playing. Dad was naturally the pitcher. I saw the little girl kick the ball and the Dad half-heartedly went after it so that she could make her base. On the next lap, I saw the boy kick the ball directly into his dad’s arms only to have his dad drop it so he wouldn’t be called out.

“Okay. Invisible man on second.” Dad saw both his kids on a base an no one was available to kick.

Invisible man Gosh, it had to been fifth grade or so since I last had to use an invisible man to hold a base.

I kept circling around the track thinking about how awesome this man was with his kids. He was participating in something that I had practically forgotten. While the episode made me smile, it also made me question if I could ever be that cool Dad. I’m afraid of kids. I don’t relate to them. I wouldn’t even know what to do with one of them.

I would like to think that if I am blessed with a child, that it would all come back to me. Or at least, I’ll learn as I go and experience childhood all over again.

Out of Control

I’d like to think that Erin and I operate on the same wavelength most of the time. I’m beginning to think that we share the same taste in men. My first clue was the whole men-in-uniform thing. Yes, I am a sucker for a military man. Then there were conversations in which we would discuss who we thought were good looking and more often than not, we were in agreement.

Shortly before class was starting, she and I were talking about some subject that I’ve already forgotten. In the middle of the topic she tells me that she has got something to tell me but she couldn’t do it then because of the people present. She claimed that she was, “out of control.”

When we began, I noticed that a new guy had come to the class. I had seen him before. Oh yes, I have checked him out elsewhere in the gym and can remember his unique features. I was a little excited as he took his position behind me and all throughout class, I was trying my hardest to sneak glances at him.

Erin and I headed to Martins for dinner. There, she told me what she mentioned earlier. She described this really hot guy that she was hot for. She was “out of control” and lost in lust and wanting to find out if yoga really did improve a person’s sex life. She said that this really hot guy had come to last Wednesday’s class. I was intrigued as he went on to describe how “flexible” he was.

“He was actually behind you tonight.”

I nearly chocked on my sandwich. She was lusting after the same guy I was! We both fixated on his most obvious feature: his obscenely large package. Seriously, this man is bursting out of his shorts.

I’m hoping that he’ll become a regular to the class. He’s already got an audience. We’re out of control.