Sunday, April 18, 2010

Burn, Baby, Burn

Let's perpetuate the stereotype, buddy ... well, maybe you can do that for both of us.
You'd have to understand. I met him on a gay internet site. The first image that I saw of him was that of a tall man with a shaved head and a soul patch in a leather jacket standing in front of his motorcycle. Whoa! I checked his online profile a few times and finally got my courage up to send him a message. And here we are ... almost four years later.
When I first saw his photo, I must admit that I began filling in my own blanks. I imagined him to be super-masculine (a plus), gruff (again, a plus) and good-natured (the biggest plus). Turns out that he was just a guy, much like me. Which brings us to candles...
There's a old joke about how the number of candles in your home relates directly to how gay you are. Me, I've always had candles in my house. But I usually just received them as gifts from women friends or other gay guys. Sometimes I would get crazy and buy a lot of them in an Ikea shopping spree, but mostly I just had one or two in the house.

He shops yesterday, and this is what he brings home:

But that's not all. Let's stop and examine...
There are 19 other candles scattered around the house right now. Jeez.
I have already told him not to put food-scented candles in the office. It just makes me relentlessly hungry. So what's burning right now? A food-scented candle. Do I not talk English to him? Next up is Garden Rain. So, I'll just keep my mouth shut.
I'll just listen to "Burn Baby Burn" by Ash and inhale Fresh Melon Slice.

That's better. Cheerleaders, Crunchy Rock, and Scent of Melon. Most times, my life is just this wonderfully weird.

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