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Posts Tagged ‘scouts’

I’ve started writing again.  Of course I always say it, but I may actually finish this time.  As is true with so many of my ideas for stories, this one formed in the nebulous region of my mind that rules over the place between asleep and awake.  I can’t remember what the seed was, since nothing from that realm can last for longer than an hour or so, but it has grown into something viable.

The characters are vaguely modeled after the set of twins in the Citadel’s boys’ choir.  1of2 and 2of2.  Beyond their twinship, the fact that they both have half the name of a founding father, and the fact that one is maturing more rapidly than the other, there is little resemblance between my characters and them.  1of2 is far less insecure (as far as I can see) than Alexander, and far less bothered by 2of2’s puberty.

The story is of Alexander and Martin Grey.  Thirteen-year-old fraternal twins.  Martin’s recent entry into puberty and his acquisition of a girlfriend are making the marginally older Alex feel left behind.  These feelings of inadequacy and betrayal peak during a Boy Scout camp-out, eventually driving Alex to confront his “little” brother.

Martin is remarkably sympathetic and assures Alex that he will never abandon him.  Later, during a hike, Alex and Martin get separated from the troop and lost.  Martin rushes ahead to try and find the troop, leaving Alex behind, again feeling abandoned and betrayed.  Martin returns a little while later, saying he would not abandon his fresh vow and begins to lead Alex along the path he’d discovered.  However when the larger, stronger Martin leaps across a crevice and rushes on, Alex is reluctant to follow, fearing the fall that would follow if he slipped.  Not wanting to be left behind again, and reluctant to appear a coward, he overcomes his fear and makes the jump.

And Misses.  He falls into the crevice, landing very painfully, feeling his back break.  Before dying he looks around and sees his brother’s corpse just feet away.

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About 11:45pm.  My evil plan failed.  I think I waited too long.

After the pretty horrific show tonight, I went back to the room to change and go to the toilet.  Along the way I committed myself to try my evil plan.  Place myself in a hot tub on the main patio (not the adults only area.  Ick!) and wait for the pre-teen boys to come and crowd around me.

Epic fail!  Well…There was one pre-teen boy, but he was black.  (Nothing against black people.  I’m just not usually attracted to them.)  Plus he had his younger cousin with him who was uber chatty.  They both liked to tell tall tales.  Like how the older of the two fell off a boat into the ocean and was rescued by a dolphin because he made a dolphin noise to call one to him.

Other than those two, I was joined by a couple in their twenties, three middle teen cousins (1 boy, 2 girls) and two young teen girls who were somehow related I’m pretty sure.  I do believe my downfall was the hour.  I went too late.  Pre-teen boys are in general not allowed to swim at 10:30 at night unsupervised, and their parents have other things they want to be doing that late.  Perfectly reasonable.  Just inconvenient.  If I try earlier, there wil be no room to insert myself to begin with without losing my deniability to the accusation that I was actually seeking that company.

Anyway.  Maybe there will be boys on my excursion tomorrow.  Fingers crossed.

I just really want a relationship with a boy.  I miss it so sorely.

Many boylovers would like to be boys again themselves.  And I certainly wouldn’t say no to the opportunity.  I’d jump at it.  But I’d also like to be 15 or 16 again.  Something about that age where it’s just so easy to hang out with younger boys while still being the mentor.  The leader.  Setting all the precedents.  Teens that age are just a magnet for younger boys.  I thought about this twice today.  The first time right after the cousin trio got into the hot tub.  The two black boys who had been talking to me latched onto the teen boy.  They followed him around for ther rest of the evening.  Not that I minded.  But it did make me think of that.

The second time was when I got back to my room and took my third shower of the day.  I dropped my swim trunks in the bathroom and it sort of reminded me of boy scouts.  Not because I ever exposed myself to the younger scouts, but because I always wanted to just take the lead, show no shame, and encourage them to do the same.  Trying to lead the younger boys in confident body image and get myself a show to boot.  I never did though.  The only time I dropped my trunks in scouts was when I was one of the younger scouts, in front of a fellow 11 year old.  Still trying to not be ashamed.  Still hoping my friend would follow suit and give me something to look at.  (He didn’t.)  Even at 11 I was trying to see penises.  I ended up being the one to give a show though.  An older scout came into the shower room at some point while I was naked and my friend was fully dressed.  (We were both in the showers though.  Weird kid.  Showering in jeans.)  He sat down on a bench facing the bank of showers and waited for us to finish.  I was made a little uncomfortable by the situation, mainly because I didn’t feel free to talk to my friend in front of this person I didn’t really know, but I didn’t think much of it, and it didn’t really bother me.  In thinking back I always wonder about that older scout.  I can think of two possibilities.  Either he was far to shy himself to undress and was unwilling to shower in his clothes, or he was enjoying the show I was putting on.  Wish I could remember his name…

Anyway, that desire to return to an earlier point in life when I was closer to boys is a part of the elusive feeling/desire that haunts me.  That feeling of incompleteness that I can never fully grasp or define that drives me to seek out some sort of contact with boys.  Many other boylovers I’ve spoken with know exactly what I’m talking about and are equally unable to put a name to the feeling.  I’ve understood parts of it, but whenever I understand a new aspect of it, I lose my grasp on another part.  Or more accurately, I lose my grasp before I have a chance to understand the new.  Maybe it isn’t actually knowable.  Maybe there are no words, there is no thought to parallel the emotion.  Maybe it is truly outside the realm of reason.

Or maybe, whenever I think I understand part of it, I’ll rush here and write it down, and eventually have all the pieces, just needing to be put together.

But then, surely, if such were possible, it’d have been done already.

Maybe it has.

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