Page 22 of Innocent

Far from my parents.

Close to my grandmother.

It was where I was loved and accepted by my Mimi, and where I first discovered what peace feels like.

It’s where, free from the restrictions of my parents’ small-minded view of the world, I was able to discard most of my old disguises and develop new ones. No one here knew I was the premature baby, the sickly kid who almost died, the chronically ill child of delicate physical disposition.

Here, I’m Jordan, a sweet, nice guy who’s willing to help people out. I don’t make a big deal about being gay, but I don’t hide it, either. I don’thaveto hide it. The good thing is that I’m a chameleon, and have learned over the years how to quietly blend in.

Other than the painful ache in my heart over my grandmother’s death last year, just before I graduated with my four-year degree, I’ve led a charmed life since Florida became my full-time home.

Mimi taught me a lot after I moved in with her.

She worried about me, wanted me able to survive and protect myself.

Wanted me to succeed and never need to go crawling home to my parents. She taught me so much, and I will be forever grateful to her.

I want to live my life making her proud.

Therefore, failure isn’t an option, and I’ll do whatever I have to do to make it.

* * * *

Work is great, because I don’t have a boyfriend to monopolize my time and distract me. I’ve briefly dated a couple of times, but while I disagree with nearly everything my parents believe in, there is, ironically, one small ideal that settled deep within me for my own reasons.

I’ve never slept with a guy, and I don’t have any plans to, at this time.

Has nothing to do with “purity culture,” either.

Oh, I’m not celibate. I’m a pretty freaky dude—inside my head. I’ve got toys, too. But I don’t want to hand over my life and heart to someone only to realize I let my libido get the better of me and it led me into a situation that won’t last.

Sure, I’m realistic that the first serious relationship I have might not be for life. That’s not thepoint.

I’m not “saving myself” for a special person.

I’m saving myself forme.

Whoever I let punch my V-card, it will be because they’ve rocked my world and heart in a variety of ways beyond being sexy and good-looking. I’m turned on by brains, a sense of humor above a fourteen-year-old’s level, and good conversation.

It’ll be a guy I feel safe enough with to drop my masks and disguises and allow him to see the true me.

I’m only twenty-two. There is no damn rush for me to get myself fucked or to suck a cock. The other reason I want to wait is because it’s too easy catch something in this day and age. I want the first guy I eventually decide to sleep with to be stable, serious about his life, and someone who isn’t simply fucking anything on two legs because he’s young and horny andcan.

Someone I consider at least my intellectual and emotional equal. Someone as choosy as I am.

Snobbish? Sure, I’ll own it.

Add to that I’m serious about finishing my master’s degree, and spending time on a relationship isn’t in my immediate future. Mimi taught me to have priorities, to respect myself, and to never sell myself short. That, sometimes, I’d have to be my strongest champion and advocate.

To this day, how my father ever emerged from her loins baffles me. Apparently, my mom and her family were far more religious than Mimi and Grandpa Jordan, and Dad fell in with them.

It was only after I started living with Mimi that I learned she never liked my mother.

Apparently, neither did Grandpa Jordan, which is another reason they sold out and moved to Tallahassee after they both retired. They didn’t want to be near Mom and her family.

That, and the lack of a state income tax. And cheaper home prices.

Oh, and decent weather in the winter.