All my friends,
got broken wings.
never will you hear them asking why,
the caged bird sings.
All my friends,
they know how to live.
oh so much sorrow,
so much love to give.
~Amos Lee
I don’t want for friends or companionship of the naked kind. Granted, I’m not all up in people’s business for days on end, but I don’t need to be, and yo, I have kids at home, so it’s really not an option for me.
But I have done a decent job of finding good guys with whom I can share afternoon dates and evenings out, along with pleasant conversation and other naked activities.
Here’s the problem: I’m not into them like I’d want them to be my date to the wedding I have to attend on Saturday, or to accompany me to my birthday party next month (Here’s a hint: it’s a big one).
It’s complicated introducing fuckbuddies to one’s friends. I’d rather not do it, as it leads to questions and speculation I’d prefer to avoid.
It’s complicated introducing fuckbuddies to one’s family. I’ve never done it, and I’m not going to start, even though one of my current (he of the questioning “hoe”) is an attorney and provided one of my brothers with a very helpful referral recently. He is not coming to mom’s for dinner. Those things need to stay as separate as possible. Especially since they are the same age.
Which leads me to the not-so-nice place of planning a group birthday party with two of my friends next month and having no one to invite. And wishing that my best friends–the ones who don’t live here–could come. And thinking–knowing–that I want awesome sex for my birthday, and I want to have it with someone who matters to me.
