An Open Love Letter To My Married Man

An Open Love Letter To My Married Man

Hard to believe but after over seven decades on this earth, and almost five as a practicing gay man, I never had reciprocal love in my life from another man until now.

Not from G, my partner for most of those years – ours was a rocky partnership born out of convenience, an early infatuation that faded sooner than usual, and a mutual love for our dogs. Nor did I ever encounter it with the hundreds of men I knew or had sex with. Maybe it was my fault staying with G in a closed relationship which prevented me at least theoretically from making commitments to another, or maybe it was my drive to succeed professionally which led to a scant social life. Or maybe I just came in contact with the wrong people or was the type to attract them, guys whose true agenda, whatever their pretense, was themselves.


But what does it matter now. Almost two years ago he came into my life. Boyishly handsome, intelligent, creative, a solid jock, old enough to be my son … and married to another man. No matter what your type, he has everything going for him in the man’s department and lucky for me – and his legal spouse – he likes his men much older than himself. He married for love and while his hubby professes he still loves him, he doesn’t offer the sex or attention a handsome, no, a beautiful man like his spouse should garner. Or deserves.

Enter me.

Too many relationships, particularly gay ones, are based on “good sex,” and when that becomes ho-hum, so does the relationship which lingers on DNR or ends up like a car driving off a cliff. For my married man and me, our mutual physical attraction and total compatibility in bed is only part of our ongoing affection – I’d like to use the  love – we have for one another. Openly and aggressively affectionate from the very start, an attribute for which he has not wavered an iota – he’s the best damn kisser I have ever known – he has shared the ups and downs of his existence as I have with him, and in so doing we have discovered that in some ways we may actually be soul mates. We have the same practical views on life and materialism, and are kindred spirits when it comes to our creative endeavors, he photography and music, I my writing.

In fact, he inspired Dare, one of protagonists in my latest novel, “For The Love of Samuel,” and created a club music track using soundbites from the Audiobook version narrated by yours truly. He even immortalized my images in his digital wizardry that blends bits and pieces of photos into a color mosaic cornucopia.

Yes, the one thing we all look for in a relationship and which I did and never had with G, absorbed with his couch potato interest in sports that left me a baseball widow in the summer and a football widow in the winter, I will also never have with my married man. As my female neighbor and sometime confident who dated married men warned, “They’re never around for the holidays or when you need them most. Their family always comes first.“

How I long to spend a Saturday night with my lover and my dogs, having a pizza and watching some old movie, for which I would trade the glitz of bar life in a heartbeat. But again I realize that is not to be.

For a moment there I was ready to throw the baby out with the bath water. But always being a practical person I realized that I had so much in common with my married man – my man – the most foolish thing I could ever do, not just at my age but any age, was to tell him to get lost.

As he and I often say to one another, to find someone in life so much on your wavelength is not just rare. It’s a miracle. And we all know miracles don’t come often. And if and when it should end, I can at least say to myself,  for once in my life I had the love of another man who I loved just as deeply.

And that I was one fucken lucky dude to have that.

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