Beach Boi

So, a couple days ago, my pharmacist (Paul) mentioned that he went for a jog, and ended up at Hollywood Beach.  Hollywood Beach is the "gay beach" on Lake Michigan in Chicago, and is one block from my apartment.  I told him that if he was so close, he should've called, and I would have joined him.  Of course, he doesn't jog with his cell phone, and didn't realize he'd end up near me, so that wasn't an option.

However, he did decide that he'd probably do it again this morning.  So, he called me up, and I got ready to meet him at the beach.  I was careful to apply sunblock to my face, neck, arms, and legs.  And I figured I'd probably spend some time at the beach even after Paul left, so I took a towel on which to lay and a book to read.  The Namesake by Jhumpa Lahiri.  Yeah, even on the beach, I maintain a slight disdain toward those potboiler and summer-on-the-beach type novels.  There are perhaps five in my queue, and those are novels which have either been recommended, or have driven my curiosity to the breaking point.  Or perhaps other titles by the same author haven't been a complete disappointment.  And besides, I bought most of them second hand, and a bad book for 50 cents is much better than a bad book for $7.99.

Anyway, met Paul on the beach.  Beautiful morning.  The big problem I faced last year when I started trying to go to the beach was that it was always either too windy or too cold.  But today was simply perfect.  We decided to jump in the water, and I made a Major Decision.  I took off my shirt, exposing my chest and back to direct sunlight for the first time in 13 or 14 years.

Paul and I played around in the water for about an hour or so, then he went on his way.  I went to my towel to dry out and read and surreptitiously check out hot guys from behind my sunglasses.  One might have been checking me out, too.  But the bad thing about sunglasses (on others) is that you can't tell when you are being checked out .  Anyway, I made sure to flip regularly, so as not to burn on any one side of my body, and even remembered not to cross my ankles, like I usually do when I'm lying flat on my back.  When I noticed that my shoulders were starting to feel a little too much sun-kissed love, I applied more sunblock to them. 

I jumped back in the water, and then stretched out again to sun dry.  After that, I checked my cell phone (protected from sand and water in a ziploc bag) and discovered that I'd been out there about half an hour longer than intended.  And came home.

I never liked the beach in Florida, because the water was sticky, the sand hurt (especially when the wind was blowing), and the sun baked my sensitive skin in a hurry.  But today was very nice.  I pledged to Paul that any time he headed up this way, he could call and I'd join him (provided I don't have to work that day).  I think I'm much better with Great Lakes than I am with oceans.  The downside was this one fly who felt the need to keep pestering me, despite the fact that there were many prettier people who the sun had already cooked to lovely tans.

And for those of you who might be wondering, well, my shoulders are pink, but not red.  I can slap them, and it doesn't hurt.  And there's a very light pink running down my chest and back, stopping at my swimsuit line.  Arms, legs, and neck don't seem to be even slightly burned, and my face might be pink, but it's sometimes hard to tell with my face.

I came home and fixed some grilled cheese sandwiches with mayonnaise.  I know.  When I first heard that, my right ventricle slammed shut, too.  But Paul introduced them to me a few weeks ago, and if you don't overdo the mayonnaise, they are kinda tasty.

Paul's a good guy.  He's also probably the least gay of my gay friends.  He doesn't really get into any of the cultural gay icons.  Everyone else I know has some "stereotypically gay" traits.  But, aside from his preference to sleep with men and go to gay clubs, his disdain for sports, and his mild obsession with this pair of diesel jeans he owns, Paul doesn't do much to signal his gayness.  On that front, Paul is the type of guy that I'd probably most like to date.  Gay, but not obnoxiously and conspicuously so.