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CGIK Story (Texas Version)

If you read The Cute Guy in Khakis story, you might be wondering if I went to Texas.

Of course, I went to Texas.

I had zero expectations and staring out at the planes flying overhead at my brother's Minneapolis apartment I said, "I don't know, Tj, maybe I shouldn't go."


My flight was in three hours.


"What are you nervous about?" he asked.


"Just all of it," I said.


"I get that. But I think you should go."

Tj dropped me off at the airport and I walked in feeling a little shaky. I was thinking, this is the type of thing that people do in their early twenties, not their late twenties with a whole career and business and writing a book. What am I doing? I should have it together by now! Not flying to the opposite side of the country to see I guy I met on a beach two months ago.


But there I was. Seated in 23D on a plane to Texas.

CGIK picked me up, like, literally, when I got there. All of my concerns washed away and I felt safe. I got into his truck and we held hands and just kept looking at each other repeating the same phrase, "We're in Texas. Together." Still in semi-shock.


Then we'd look out the window or direct our gaze away from each other for a minute, and then look back and repeat, "We're in Texas."


I think we each said that about four times.


"Can you put the address in please?" He said.


Oh, yes, we have things to do, not just drive around holding hands and repeating "We're in Texas" for four days.

Our downtown Dallas apartment was clean with glass and granite countertops. We got a two-bedroom, thank you. Two large glass doors opened to a balcony view of the tall Dallas buildings and people in cars and trucks hurrying on the highway. We weren't hurrying anywhere, we were just here-- in Texas.


"Which bedroom do you want?" He asked.

I walked into one that was nice with a large walk-in closet and modest bathroom. Then I walked into the other that had a whirlpool tub, glass shower, and a big comfy bed with a white comforter pouring over the edges.


He laughed when I saw the second one and said, "I know you want this one."


"Yes, I'll take the whirlpool room."


Holding my brown leather Australian hat, I wheeled my orange suitcase into my bedroom and watch as he picked up his Nike duffle bag and brought two boxes of shoes into his room. Why do guys keep their shoes in the original boxes? Granted, he drove there and had three hours to kill before picking me up and happened to find more shoes. But the number of orange boxes! So many boxes.


That didn't take long, so we walked back out and then just sat on the couch together. I was coaching myself on the plane to Texas telling myself that we would stay committed to our separate bedrooms. There was a line-- an imaginary yellow caution line--- between both of our bedrooms. I would keep to myself and he would keep to himself. We Would Not Sleep Together.


Because that always seems to just speed things up and I need things to go slow. I don't do well with things moving fast. The problem is that I'm very attracted to him. So now I see, as I am writing this, we could go two ways. The G-rated or the X-rated.


And because of how our brains work, we secretly want it to go X-rated.


We want all the gritty details of what happened and how it felt. The kissing, the slow hands, which clothes stayed on and which ones came off, the wall, the details. We. Just. Want. The. Details.


But why, oh why, are we so ashamed of our sexuality? This is a question I've wrestled with because I was taught (rightfully so) that you don't have sex until you're married. But we are sexual beings. Through-and-through. We are sexual beings. Every single person on this earth got here through the sex of two other people. And for some reason? For some odd reason? We're ashamed to talk about sex. To share the beautiful (God-created) details about sex.


I'll keep it mid-line PG-13 rated, but I do feel like sex should be talked about. If anyone thought I'd go to Texas with a 6'3", loving, patient, kind, black man that I am attracted to and we'd just play hop-scotch for four days--- ya'll need a reality check. I forgot my chalk.


We spent the next four days as if we were sharing a dream life together. I got coffee in bed, breakfast on the balcony, and botanical garden visits in the afternoon. CGIK cooked some nights and I cooked other nights. We introduced new things to each other. I spent time working and he talked to the TV as he traded players in his X-Box game. I made a big trade for him with the Cavs. He talked with the family he was going to visit in six days for the wedding. He actually calls them "Mom and Dad."


He talked, I listened.


I talked, he listened.


It was simple and easy. He played R&B music and made french toast. I told him to turn it down, it's too loud, but got up out of my chair and danced with him in the kitchen anyway. It was lovely, but we both knew that this was a fake life. It was a magical, mystical life where we could both escape our own lives and own our minds for four days and just spent time away.


Away from all of it.


We got a lot of looks walking around Dallas, and we both just smiled. People told us we are a cute couple and others just stared. Some people asked if we are a couple. We looked at each other to see the other person's answer first.


Because there's a lot to figure out.


We did our best to remain in the moment and the last morning (he is sleeping in his own bed) I crawled in after having my morning cup of coffee and said, "Can we stay here forever?" He asked the same and looked up flights to change mine. He was going through the payment process and I looked at his phone and said, "No! You can't change my flight. I have to go back."


Because we can't stay here forever. We can't escape from life. We can't escape from ourselves. Our own minds. But we can spend some time together, pretending like we can just for a moment. To stare into the eyes of another precious human and know that they see you for who you are-- that's a beautiful moment frozen in time.


My flight was leaving in three hours and he would continue on his way to the wedding. I would fly home. As we hugged in the terminal, a guy walked by and said, "Don't worry, man, she'll be back."


We both laughed and he said, "I don't know if she will?"


I didn't really know what I'd do. What we would do.


Then right before I left, he said, "Will you come visit me in Florida?"


I said, "I'll think about it."



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