Marek feels more real

I was formally invited by Eda, the former manager of PinocchioPinocchio Prague was my favorite of the mainstream rent-boy clubs in Prague, which really isn't saying much since I could only rarely afford the prices... Prague, to crash in his big loft-style flat until Marek and I move into my new flat sometime around Christmas or Christmas Eve.

[Last week, my sponsor, Chris-Tan, paid the first month’s rent, deposit and (ridiculous) agent’s fee on my new flat. Almost $3000 USD! Still, I have been cynical for weeks — not because I doubted my friend — but because I fully expected life to intervene, as it often does, and has in the past. It still might but it had better hurry: over a year of being mostly homeless and only a few days left to go.]

Marek and I are getting along well, laughing and roughhousing and calling each other “cigan” and “skin.”

Brown gypsy. White skinhead. Together. He thinks it’s quite funny.

Today BBBreederboy was Steve King, a British sexpat who moved to Prague after being inspired by my blog. For some time, he was my number-one advocate,... taught him how to call me “Goddamn fucking skinhead mother fucker.” Now Marek can’t stop saying it. Thanks, Steve.

My favorite routine of his is when he calls to me from across the room, “Heeeeyyyyy, skin!” When I look he either smiles and flips me off or gives me the universal hand motion for a blow job. Then I say, “No problem,” and he says, “Dobre, no problem ale ty neni ja.” OK, no problem; but you are not me.

It still hasn’t gotten old.

I still find it hard to believe that Marek doesn’t mind hanging out with me 24 hours a day and still finds the energy for a wrestling match or two at bedtime plus one or two orgasms. Yes, our sex life is real, and mostly satisfying, if uneven, confused and confusing at times as well. He’s not an uncomplicated young man. To be honest, if he were simple, or if our relationship was, I’d just be bored.

I’d been working on a mostly “sex story” type of post and it got interrupted by the real thing the other night. And complicated by my feelings about him.

Can I continue to write in this way about him, so publicly? I don’t know.

He is the main muse in my life at the moment; and yet I feel protective and, I dunno, nurturing? He’d laugh if he understood that. I’m worried about exposing him to all the shit people can throw should they connect my blog to him, in real life.

So: The beginnings of commitment. I’m not ready to be monogamous, I don’t think, but I am ready to settle down. If that’s a contradiction, it’s one I intend to negotiate as best and as honestly as I can.