New York

For every Red Sox fan there is one carnal sin, one that can not be forgiven, one that is so bad that it is not even spoken of in the innermost circles....and that my dear friends is the 11th commandment. Thou shall not date a Yankee's fan. Well effective immediately it is quite certain that I am going to hell.

Late March I took a trip home to visit, nothing out of the norm. First night in town I met up with my closest friends at our spot. I left at one point to do some shopping around the marketplace and walked back in to the bar to see HIM. Him who was sitting across the bar wearing a Yankees hat....not only wearing a Yankees hat, but a yankee's hat on opening day in a bar in Boston. Can someone say balls?

Well, there was no way in hell that I was about to let that happen, and certainly not after a couple of hours worth of liquid courage, so the trash talking began. Somewhere along the way I mustered up the courage to slip him my business card....so the Coors light must have blocked the fact that he was as die hard for the Yankees as I was for the Red Sox. At that point in time I am not quite sure what I was thinking...or if any thinking was involved at all...what I do know is that I woke up to a message from him the very next morning. We text back and forth over the last four months with a few phone calls sprinkled in between.

Then I went home this weekend, as I do every fourth of July. We made plans to get together. And Monday we sat on the beach wall and watched fireworks for a good 4 hours. You name it, we talked about it. And when he reached over and put his hand on mine. It happened. I felt butterflies. This had to be some kind of bad joke, right? Was I sitting here, snuggled up under the ultimate Yankee fan? Was this really happening? And did it feel right? Check . Check. Check. and Double Check. That's it folks, I'm screwed.

What I do know is I experienced a deeper connection in those four hours than I had with any penis having homosapien in the last 31 years. He asked permission to kiss me, and I gave it.  The kiss was real, and had meaning. Deep, but with no pretenses. To sum it up in one word, that first kiss, as we set on the beach wall with the ocean beating against the shore, and the fireworks going off in the background, was perfect.

And the next morning I found myself  back on a plane headed south with 3 hours worth of what ifs flooding my head. And it is at that point I made the choice, that for once in my life, I was just going to let whatever this wonderful thing happening around me may be, happen.

"Because maybe, you're gonna be the one that saves me, and after all...you're my wonderwall."