In an ideal world

Still being off work, and not wanting to sit staring at the walls of my room, I've spent most of my days recently out and about. And thinking, prompted particularly by two things that happened on Sunday, about what would constitute my 'ideal' relationship, the way I am now. On the way to the station on Sunday morning, I was walking a hundred yards or so behind a boy, maybe 12 or 13, who was on his own. About halfway, he stopped, and began talking on his mobile phone. As I overtook him, a brief sideways glance confirming my first impression that he was more than passably cute, I heard him say 'I'm near where I met you last time'. A few moments later, he ran past me, until, once more, he was some way in front of me, before returning to a walking pace. Due to the 'lie of the land', I lost sight of him for a minute or two, but as I got closer to the station, he came into view again. And it turned out that the person he'd met, and presumably who he'd been talking to on the phone, was an adult. There was probably a perfectly reasonable explanation for the scenario, the man, who I only saw the back of, could well have been an uncle, a football coach, even his father, if he came from a 'broken home', but it did, unsurprisingly, I guess, cross my mind that there may have been something else between them. Then, later in the day, I was on a bus in South London, when a slightly younger boy, 10 or thereabouts, sitting in front of me with (probably) his father, turned round, apropos of nothing, and smiled sweetly at me. The combination of the two moments left me thinking about what I really want in my life, and the answer I came up with is that I would be quite happy with a simple friendship with a boy, just being able to spend a little time together, maybe, if I was very lucky, a hug every now and again. The sexual side of my attraction to boys can be (and is) dealt with in ways that don't require a 'partner', just a little imagination (Yeah, I know, TMI!). The problem is, of course, that I don't know any boys, and even if I did, in the face of the rampant paranoia that reigns supreme, no-one would believe that I wasn't intent on molestation, or worse. It's the same story I've faced for most of my life, trapped in a maze, partly of my own making, partly of society's, without a hope of a solution. And that realisation is when the 'why carry on?' demons enter the picture. Because it's hard to find an answer to that superficially simple question. Why do I bother?

Love & best wishes to all
Sammy B