A Big Piece of Trayf

I don’t know if I have sex with the alarming frequency that it might seem, especially lately. But when I got home from a movie last night, there was a phone message from Tall Red-Haired Guy asking if I wanted to “hang out.” I was tired, so I called him up to politely decline, but he convinced me to come over. Here, twist my arm.

I’m flattered that he apparently finds me sexually attractive. Physically, we’re so different — he’s 6’1″, with red hair and fair, smooth skin, and, as I’ve mentioned before, his pecs are amazing. Chiseled out of stone. I’d think he’d be able to find someone just as tall as he is, with just as great a body as he has. But hey, he likes me, and it’s flattering. (He has also highly complimented me on my skill at a particular act, and he’s not the first to do so. That’s flattering, too. Hee hee.)

If you’ve read Michael Chabon’s The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay (and if you haven’t, you should — it’ll soon be out in paperback), remember the relationship between the scrawny Sammy Clayman and the big, brawny, all-American Tracy Bacon? That’s what it reminds me of. Sammy took Tracy home to Brooklyn to meet his Jewish mother, and Tracy was “the biggest piece of trayf she’d ever seen,” or something like that. (Trayf is a Yiddish word for non-kosher food.)

He even invited me to stay the night, but for some reason I didn’t want to. He’s only a ten-minute walk from me, but I felt like sleeping alone in my own bed.