what's in a name?

Last night I got together with Parfait. I don't know if I've ever talked about him before on this blog though I know I've talked about him personally with some of you. I think I'm kind of afraid he'll find this blog and realize what an asshole I am. Of course, he's bound to realize at some point, I'd just kind of rather it be in person.

Anyway, Parfait. He's older, duh. Maybe even almost twice my age, if I were a few years younger. But as we both age, the fraction between our ages will just keep getting smaller so really he's not that much older than me when you look at it in a larger context, say 500 years. Yes, I really should try to meet men my own age but we all know that's not going to happen so I might as well get as much pleasure out of this "relationship" as I can. And for the most part, it is pleasurable. Except for the fact that he doesn't really listen to what I say and constantly turns the conversation back to himself and tells stories that I somehow miss the point of and talk about all the amazing famous things or people he's knows, seen or done in this slightly annoying superior way.

Last night he told me that he got rid of all the drug paraphernalia in his apartment, which I think means that he's not going to do any sort of drug anymore...and he likes his drugs. He also told me that he got rid of his small circle of fuck buddies, "to make room in case there's the possibility that more develops between us." Okay, that's not really a direct quote but pretty close. He talked for about 40 minutes about cleaning his life ("metaphorically and literally") and us and what we might be but it was all very vague and noncommittal (which is good because I don't like commitment either) and I think I probably said about 5 words because I didn't know how to respond to that. Plus I was really really sleepy and I kind of felt like a jerk for constantly thinking about my bed while he tried to bare some part of his soul or something.

Here's another thing: he really likes to hint at the crazy wild party sex drug times he's had, which I'm sure are pretty true, but neglects to offer any details. He's told me, numerous times, that his last boyfriend asked him about some the crazier moments and he refused to answer because they would freak his boyfriend out. But he won't tell me anything either, for the same reason and you know I want to know because I have a dirty freaky mind. I just want to say, "Look, unless you (consensually) tied up some guy, chopped off his foot, threw it in the oven, fucked his bloody stump while it baked, basted his foot with your come and then fed it to him, I don't think I'll be very shocked. And even that might not surprise me."

How about you?