Skip to content

Category: Attorney

Making (It) Up

He arrived with a bowl of black-eyed peas.

It wasn’t a peace-offering.  I don’t like black-eyed peas.

But it was for good luck.

Because it was New Year’s Eve, and the Attorney has made sure to show up with them since the year that I forgot to make a pot for Granny.

We talked a bit about the hiatus situation.  Not enough to ruin the evening.  But, we did put a few ground rules in place going forward.

That’s the interesting about relationships.  Each one is different, so there is no rule book in place.  You make it up as you go along.

Part of making up is making it up.

He also brought champagne for the New Year.  But, Granny always likes to have a drop of my grandaddy’s homemade “medicinal spirits” at midnight.

When the Attorney followed me to the basement to get one of the little jars of ever clear liquid, he asked me for a make up kiss.

I gave him a quick one on the lips.

But, he held on and demanded “the right kind of kiss.”

He meant the deep kind.  The kind that makes me get hard.

The kind that almost made us miss midnight.

[ fin ]


Magnum For Your Pleasure


I was mostly a good kid.

But like many teenage boys, I engaged in some dick-head behavior back in the day.  Especially when it came to girls.

It was sort of a “thing” then to see how much you could get a girl to do for you.

Would she cook for you?  Vacuum out your car?

Some guys made their girls buy them cigarettes or snuff.

I didn’t smoke or dip, but if we were gonna get busy, I would try to get girls to buy rubbers.

And every once in a while I would succeed.

I actually got a small kick out of watching a girl try to discreetly slide a box across the counter or mumble the word “magnum” to the clerk at places where you had to ask for them.

You know a girl is into you if she’ll buy you Magnums.

The same goes for a fella.

At close to the five year mark now, The Attorney and I have eliminated that need.  So, I was surprised Friday night when he said he brought Magnums with him.

But there they were.  A box of three, individually wrapped in foil.

Magnum ice cream bars.

I’m not a big ice cream eater.  In fact, I almost never finish even a small carton before it gets freezer burn.

But I have been obsessed with Magnum frozen treats ever since somebody on Twitter1 turned me on to them this past summer.

I didn’t even think you could get them around here.  I have not been able to find them in a grocery store.  I know they started in Europe, so I figured they were only in major cities in the U.S.

But, The Attorney apparently found them at a grocery near his place, and remembered how much I had talked about want to try one because they looked so damned good.

And they are.

So. Damned. Good.

He bought the Double Chocolate.  Chocolate ice cream, wrapped in chocolate fudge, wrapped in Belgian Chocolate.

It almost defies description how good it was.

It was so good that it didn’t matter that I hardly eat ice cream, and that when I do it’s vanilla.  I was so good that generally the only kind of chocolate I like is Hershey’s.

It was almost as good as the thank-you sex that came beforehand.

[ fin ]

  1. I wish I could remember who. 

Pedestal Pusher

In one of the last few posts I did on “West of Mayberry,” I had a self-discussion (which is pretty much what all my full-on posts are) about how fair is it to expect someone to uphold a standard that you placed on them.

Anybody who was a regular reader knew that I was referencing my relationship with The Attorney.

Ever since, it’s been gnawing at me to figure out why I had sort of put him on a pedestal.  It didn’t come from him.  It was totally my doing.  He just is who he is.  If I imagined him even greater, then that’s my fault.

Whatever the reason I did it, I realized that it’s something I have done before with important male figures in my life.

I did it to my daddy.  I did it to my brother.

I pushed them both up onto a pedestal, a place that, in hindsight, neither one was ever really comfortable being.

And they both fell.


And neither one was able to climb back on again.

My father couldn’t.  And wouldn’t let my brother.

I realized that when the Attorney slipped, even just for a moment, it scared me that he was going to do it to me, too.



The fear was so deep in my bones that I only knew anger to protect myself.

I regret that now, because he needed my support, not my judgement.

Maybe it will come to me one day as to why I tend to make gods, idols, and heroes out of regular men. But as long as I continue to build pedestals for them, I have to be ready and willing to help shore them up when they wobble.

[ fin ]

Anniversary Schmaltz


It’s only been five years.

So, it’s not surprising the details I remember.

Maybe I remember the green sweater, the kind with the zipper collar, because it wasn’t the starched white dress shirt that I have since come to know as his uniform.

Maybe I remember the scent of him, captured on my fingertips, because since then it’s become a recurring thing.

After all, it’s been going on for five years.

Maybe I remember how special that night seemed, like it really mattered, because I had never met anyone like him.

It still really matters and there continues to be no one like him.

Our first official date…

Has it already been five years?

[ fin ]

In Comfort and In Pain

I don’t think he realizes how painful it really is.

The Attorney does this thing where he will lace his fingers in mine.

Except it’s more like “weave” than “lace.”

Like the way you made a potholder for your mother out of those stretchy bands of fabric in the third grade.

He did it the other night, in the midst of celebrating the fifth anniversary of our first date. We were wrapped up in a blanket on the floor of his TV room watching rain slam against the big windows that look out on his patio.

“Why do you always do that?” I groaned at him, even though I know it’s one of his displays of affection, similar to the way he sometimes shoulder bumps me when we are standing side-by-side.

“To keep hold of you until I can wrap something else around your finger.”

Every once in a while he throws out hints like that.

“Well, it hurts.”

He doesn’t seem to feel it.  Maybe because his fingers are longer and more slender than mine.

“Love hurts sometimes,” he will cracked.

I made a mental note to use that same line on him next time he is on his back…or on all fours…or against the wall…or…well, you get the picture.

“When the time comes,” he asked, after a period of quiet, “am I going to have to get your Granny’s permission first?”

“If you know what’s good for you,” I joked back.

“She’d better say yes.”

“What of I don’t?”

He knew I was teasing, so he did the finger thing again.

“You will, if you know what’s good for you.”

I do.

In comfort and in pain.

[ fin ]

A Steady Burn


It seems so simple, but this quote explains so much to me.

Love is friendship set on fire.

It explains a lot about my relationship with The Attorney.

Even though I am in my mid 30’s, it is the first really serious relationship I have ever had.

The most serious and, somehow, also the most relaxed.

I have an ease with him that I’ve never had with anyone.

Except my closest friends.

And somewhere over the course of the last five years, he’s become the closest of all.

And the most exciting.

That’s the fire.

Not the gasoline-drenched kind that accelerates and burns up quickly.

More like the spark that ignites, then smolders and smolders.

A steady burn.

The kind that’s almost impossible to put out.

[ fin ]


It’s about 3:10 A.M.

The Attorney is with me.

He arrived about twenty minutes ago and is dead asleep, his long tall self sidled up against me.

The clickety-taps of my laptop keyboard don’t seem to disturb him.

He’s a solid sleeper.

Which makes it odd that he’s here in the first place.

He got out of his own bed to drive an hour and half in the rain to be here.

“I want to come up,” he told me on the phone.

A middle-of-the-night trip is unusual, not part of the routine.

It wasn’t a booty call, so it makes me wonder if everything is alright.

He insists that he’s fine.  That he just wanted to be near.

Maybe so.

Still, it makes me worry that it’s something more.

Now I can’t sleep.

(Not that I ever do.)

Even though he’s calm.

Even though he’s near.

[ fin ]

Just Cause

The Attorney just shook his head and stared at me.

“You are a strange creature.”

It was because I’d expressed my concern about him over his “just because” journey into the mountains and into my bed during the wee hours of the night before, and I was still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“You’re the only man I know who  would sweat the fact that his boyfriend wants to crawl up next to him in bed,” he said, before reminding me that there has been a time or two that I have hopped in the truck, myself, just so I could wake up with him.

But it’s not all that unusual to for me to be up in the middle of the night.

Granted, he is way more spontaneous than I am.  But, he is also a creature of habit. I’m not sure he even realizes time exists between midnight and sunrise.  For him to be up at that hour, I figured it had it had to mean something.

“Maybe it just means I love you, Biggin.”

Even though he sounded exasperated, I know he meant it sweet.

Which made me feel bad.

Because I had pissed, unintentionally, on his affection by not taking it at face value.

In need to learn that “just because” is often just cause.

An no cause for alarm.

[ fin ]


The Attorney earned a few points today.

He was thoughtful enough to send Granny flowers for Valentine’s Day.

He didn’t send me any, though.

Which gained him a a few more points, because it means he’s thoughtful enough to appreciate that I am not the flowers type.

As sweet as it was to see Granny barely able to contain her excitement about the enormous floral arrangement, the moment ended up only semisweet.

She was having one of those days when her mind was a little off, and she could not seem to grasp who they were from.

She thought I had them sent, but when I tried to explain they were from The Attorney, she could not place him.

Not even when I showed Granny the card with his name on it.

It probably would have been more clear to her if he had presented them instead of a delivery guy.

Or if it had been one of her better days.

But some work obligations kept him from being able to do it himself.

And she wasn’t quite herself.

Even he could barely contain his excitement when he called to ask if she like them.

I only told him that she was thrilled.

He deserves a little thoughtfulness, too.

Tomorrow she’ll be fine and one day it will be a funny story.

But for now, it’s only semisweet.

[ fin ]

A Bad Case Of Crab

I got up to pee in the middle of the night and at some point realized I was horny.

I was hard before I got back to the bed.

The Attorney was asleep facing out so I decided to make him aware by pushing the tip against his lips.

I ended up poking him in the nose instead.  But it still woke him up.

He swatted me away.

Just in case he didn’t get the message, I thumped it on the side of his face a couple of times.

“No,” he grumbled, covering his face with his arm.

Usually that’s a signal that he wants to play a little rough.

Which only improves my posture.

But he didn’t want to play.

Rough or otherwise.

“My stomach is in knots.”

He also had a little bit of a fever when I checked.

And then diarrhea.

Nothing will ruin your posture faster than the thought of that.

“I think it’s the crab,” he groaned afterwards.

He figured it was food poisoning.

If so, it was the first time I was cock-blocked by a take-out crab salad.

[ fin ]