Summer Boys and Winter Boys

(May 19, 2004)

"Hub called yesterday," I told Joe over dinner. "I told him that I realized how he makes a better summer boyfriend and you make a better winter boyfriend."

Joe's a better winter boyfriend because, given the chance, he'd rather stay home and make music or play video games or watch movies; ie, do nothing. I like doing nothing too. My favorite thing to do, when it gets dark at four o'clock and there's ice on the ground and the wind is howling, is to get into bed and snuggle among a dozen big pillows with a crossword puzzle or a sketch pad or a book. But when the weather's great, "doing nothing" outside the house is so much better! Hub was always up for getting out and just going for a walk or a ride. There was no need to "convince" him go out and play. It was just a matter of saying, with sarcastic inflection, "There's no beach." "There's no Kimball Farm ice cream." Watching planes land. Going to a dark field at night to see stars. Even just walking around Target and buying a new candle is something rather than nothing. Once when we'd stayed up all night long watching rented movies, I said just before dawn, "There's no sunrise at the beach." He hopped up out of bed and into his shorts before I was done saying it, and we went to Revere and we caught the sunrise. Maybe it's from back in high school. Our first kiss happened laying inside the net on the soccer field one balmy summer night. We started fooling around; I remember I had an orgasm without taking off my shorts.

Except that Hub wants to do stuff in winter, too. Like skiing. Sledding. Even CAMPING, what the fucking fuck, CAMPING? SLEEPING outside? OUTSIDE IN WINTER! You have to be crazy. I am just not into hard excercise where you're cold and wet and huffing frigid air. My lungs seize up, and I'm hot AND freezing at the same time. I hate having sweat pouring off my forehead but icy cold fingers and a runny nose! You know when it's so cold your eyeballs feel chilled like jello? BAH! Nix on winter activities. I want my bed. Or in the case of this past winter, Joe's bed.

But in summer, it's not that easy getting Joe out of the house. When he was in a band called Myshkin in 1995 or something, he wrote a song called "Providence." It's based on one time when this girl stopped him in a bar to tell him how beautiful he was and to ask if he'd, as the lyrics go, "...come with me to Providence." She wanted to take him home. "Providence!" I said. "I can't even get you to Somerville!" We've never slept in my bed in Somerville. Only at his place. Providence, good luck!

"HM!" Joe harumphed. That's how he harumphs, he says, HM! "I do stuff! We went to the Museum of Fine Arts last month!" That's true, we did. His birthday was Monday, April 19th and mine was Wednesday, April 21st and on Tuesday the 20th he took the day off and we went to the museum and had a great lunch at the Linwood.

"Hm," I mused. That's how I muse, I say "hm." I started thinking about last summer and the things I did for fun. Walking in the park, hanging on the swings, going to Target, cooking, going for ice cream, walking around Harvard or Inman Square...it was all with either Hub or... "Chuck. Chuck would make a good summer boyfriend," I said. What, I'm just saying. We're just friends.

You know it's been one year exactly since my near-fatal medical event. April 12th it happened, April 28th I came home from Switzerland, and at this time I was just about getting up and around and going out. I specifically thanked Chuck last week because, I didn't realize it at the time, but he kept insisting that I get out and do stuff. I think, in retrospect, that it really kept me from at least some kind of depression.

Pretty cool.