Yesterday, I had my first Canadian.

A navy officer, found through an app, came to my apartment in Toronto. What I found was something far more alluring than simply a handsome man who was built like a bull.

Will we see each other again? I do not know.

But as he took me in his arms, for the first time it felt like I was there, completely in the moment. Up until now, I have always relied on alternative thoughts; images in my head, in order to finish. But the time, as he lay above me with his mouth on mine and my hands deep in his chest hair, I somehow felt more alive, more pleasured, than I ever had before.

For the first time, it felt real. More real and unreal at the same time.

The strange thing is that he wasn’t perfect. His hair was thinning at the front, there was some fat on his belly. But the attraction I felt for him was beyond anything I had known.

His hands, his body, his strength, his possession.

I felt him, and it was then I felt true pleasure. Perhaps for the first time.

When it was done, he didn’t simply throw on his trousers and go. We lay there, for what seemed like hours. He held me in his strong arms, kissing my neck and wrapping my body in his. It was the most beautiful, simple moment I’ve ever had with letting someone into my bed.

When we let someone into our bed and into our body, we are sharing ourselves with them. Sometimes that sharing lasts an hour, a day, a month, a lifetime. It doesn’t matter. You have still shared your post intimate physical selves with them.

I hope we see each other again. Perhaps we shall. Perhaps all we will have had is one moment together in an apartment in downtown Toronto.

But I’m glad we had that moment, for it taught me so much.

Perhaps that is the true essence of travel. Perhaps as we learn about another place and time, we learn about ourselves. As we see and explore,e we are given the choices to feel more deeply, more truly, more honestly than we have before. It seems to me that to travel to see pretty waterfalls or golden beaches for their own sakes seems hollow. Like buying a piece of clothing simply for the brand it carries. What is more important is the plethora of feeling it evokes. The memories it holds for you.

As I lay here on my bed, thinking about that experience yesterday, I see other offers from men nearby who want to visit. To meet up. To fuck.

I find myself turning them away. Toronto has given me one of the most wonderful experiences of my life so far, and whatever else happens I don’t want to taint it. He was more of a man than anyone I’ve known before.

A sea may divide us soon. But the memory I’ll hold forever.


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