Politics of lust

I went to the commencement yesterday and it was fun. Saw a lot of people who I had previously seen only in the classroom and it was fun. Most outstanding, I recognized that lust never dies. For one, I saw this guy who was in my class a few semesters ago. Let's call him 'Keith'. He's the typical Midwesterner: blond, blue-eyed and most probably, corn-fed. He's easy on the eyes (from my point of view, and that is always very personal, don't you think?).
Anyway, Keith was there, too. Graduating, was he at last. I was saying hello to my friend James when I happened to catch a glimpse of his face. And being lust the mean devil she is, I immediately recognized him. He did, too. But as always, when we have met outside of the classroom he gave me the 'I'm-looking-into-space-not-at-you' look. He looked dashing, though, in his B.A. graduation regalia.
Keith's main attractive -besides the classically handsome face- is his swagger. He's kind of that redneck/blue collar worker/next-door guy kind of guy. He's got beautiful arms and a very nice chest. Yummy nipples -I'm a sucker for nipples in men- and solid legs. I think he worked for the railroad somewhere, according to classroom banter -we did talk sometimes and he came across as painfully shy/arrogant, that combo that may straight men seem to perfect as they age- and his body is solid and his walk has a nice swagger. His hands are big (a plus, in my book) and his smile dazzling. He's a handsome man.

In any case, he saw me at graduation and then again when I was coming out of the theater where the graduation took place. He was alone, possibly waiting for his family and friends to drop by and go celebrate. Again, I gave him the once-over and he gave me the -I'm looking-at-that-plant-behind-you- look. Still, his easy masculinity hit me in the solar plexus again. I find sexy to be more a state of mind (theirs and mine, of course) than just pure physical appearance. Of course he's attractive to me because of all the secondary sexual characteristics that we all find attractive (nice face, body hair/lack of body hair, muscular frame, strong stance) but also because of that kind of vulnerability masquerading as macho posing that is so obvious to me (maybe wishful thinking?). I have come to be able to identify that attitude that may come as arrogance for some for some kind of discomfort (he knows that I'm mentally sitting on his erect cock while my tongue is in his ear) that many straight men feel when they know they are being regarded as a piece of ass/cock. It makes them profoundly uncomfortable and the only way to disguise it it to appear arrogant.

It worked for him. And for me. I got to my building tingling comfortably below the belt. It did not help that my jeans were a little bit tight. And that I was wearing tighty-whities. I felt a little bit confined. But it was good to feel like that in such a setting. Sometimes I think I'm numb to attractions and lust, that I just superficially flirt with every living being on the planet while feeling somehow chilly inside. It was good to see 'Keith' and feel pleasurably lusty for a few minutes.

And then there was this one guy I saw when we were entering the theater before the ceremony: he looked like your fucking dead ringer. He's taller (about six feet) and heavier (he's older than you by around five years) and he's one of the Student Trustees, but he was sitting at the time and to me it was you, sitting there on stage. His name is Joe and I was *this* close to call him by your name. Uncanny resemblance in facial hair, eye shape, mouth, hair. You said you're going to look like your dad, and I think you will. It's not a bad thing. Your dad is ok. You'll also look like your mom, mind you. You've got her eyes. But this guy kind of showed me how you'll look in a few years.

And you're looking all grown up. Twenty, huh? It seems like yesterday you were crossing eighteen. You're still babyboy to me, though. Still the same ADD-addled behaviour. Still can't look into my eyes for more than two seconds. Still stammer when you talk and play incessantly with your phone. Still wear pants too long for you and shirts that are too drab for your complexion to shine. Also, that thing on your eyebrow will give you a rogue look in a few years and the beauty of a damaged bust now -at twenty everything looks cute, even a scar- and the pictures you showed me in your phone made me think of your obsession with showing off and documenting your life at the same time.
It was good to see you. You've grown, babyboy. And I'm still the same.