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It's February 2005 and Valentine's Day will soon be here. It's not my first Valentine for sure, but it is my first one for true
romance, not that puppy love stuff. For this year I will turn fourteen. Hi, I'm Tonimus and let me tell you how the week prior to Valentine's Day unfolds.
BM VAL IM HOT 4 U
My mobile
beeps that extra loud beep to signal the receipt of a text message. And there it is on the screen, an unknown, secret admirer who wants to be my Valentine. Not only does he want to be my Valentine, but
he's hot for me. For it must be a boy, this secret admirer of mine. That I'm gay is known at school, if not exactly shouted from the rooftops. But this is a new century and these things are
permitted and accepted. That boys at school chase another boy, flirt and hold his hand, even as they stay the required fifteen centimeters apart, is accepted just as if it is a boy and a girl. Not that
there's too many kids our age who openly hold hands, straight or gay, for we are all new to this romance thing and are quite shy about it. Yet a few of us have declared couples and are frequently
seen hand in hand strolling around the school, or sitting in the cafeteria making sheep's eyes at the other across the table, totally oblivious to the ruckus around them. And an arm quietly slips
around the other's shoulders as the lovers pass off school property on the way home, escaping that no body touch rule.
Now I do this myself for years now. It's quite difficult actually.
First I have to find out which boys will romance other boys, then find one of those who matches me. No one wears a tag on their forehead, so it's very difficult reading the other boys. But it's
not impossible and I've had a few hands to hold and hearts to share in this first year of adult life. Yet I haven't had a really special boy to call my own, to stay with and share things for a
long time. Not a true romance, for sure. Some of my first pairs last only a day or two as we happily share our hearts yet agree to part. A few only last a couple of hours and die rapidly. As the gay
youth websites tell me, this is the normal agony of growing up and finding love.
Mostly I do the chasing. Hard at first to speak to another boy who looks cute and try to find out if he's ready
to share his heart. For some are gay but not ready to share their heart yet, but perhaps will do so in the future as they mature. Some are just terribly shy. And some are willing to share their heart,
but just not with Tonimus. Ah, the rocky road to love, but you know it better than I do.
Then there's boys who have already paired up. I hold hands with Bob and see Jeff and Craig also holding
hands. When I break off with Bob I take my chances with Jeff or Craig, to see if they want to pair up with me. Works sometimes. Doesn't work sometimes. Sometimes Jeff pairs up with Bob, and Craig and
I are left as singles watching the happy pair walk hand in hand.
Sometimes I get chased. I like getting chased. A boy will slip up to me and start talking, and I know exactly what he's doing.
He flirts, trying to read me, to find out if I like him enough to go out with him. I know what it's like to be in his shoes, for I've been there and done that. So I'm kind and gentle if he
really doesn't turn my crank. I might let him take me for pizza or burgers, yet gently decline his invitation to come up to his room and see his X-Box. Or I might not decline his invitation and spend
a couple of hours with him, sitting or lying beside him as we hammer away at the controllers, trying to kill the other on the screen. Then, if his hand drops off his controller and slides into my lap, I
knock it away. Well, not usually.
So I'm very interested in the mystery messenger. Text messages don't show the sender, so I've no way of knowing who he is until he reveals himself.
And I pray that no one plays a joke on me.
U R 4 ME LTS GT 2GTHR
A couple of hours later and my phone beeps again. Another mystery message pops up on my screen. I know it can't be a girl.
Last year I did have a little romance with Melissa. Well, a romance enough that we shared the secrets of our bodies on one memorable occasion in her room. That Tony had a papoose totally fascinated her.
I guess she hadn't seen too many boys with one, or none of those ever let her handle the treasures. So we lay there side by side on her bed, our jeans down around our ankles, our sweatshirts pulled
up under our armpits, and played doctor. She showed me the little man in the canoe, which lay between her thighs. Her little man was tiny, very tiny, compared to my dickie even if both things occupied
the same spot on our bodies. That he stood up under my touch surprised me, even as my own dickie throbbed into a stiffie at the same time. I never knew that girls had stiffies. We lay there gently
touching each other's sensitive bits, our breaths increasing as the tension built in our bodies. Melissa really didn't know what to do to a stiffie to make it feel best. Girls usually don't
know. But she kept slipping my papoose back and forth across my red-end as I circled my fingertip around her little man in the canoe. It happened to us almost at the same time as I squirted all over my
belly and she drew up her knees and gasped with joy. And that solved for me the mystery of girls.
Next day I saw Melissa holding hands with another boy. And the next day a fresh boy. Then another.
So I know she has long lost interest in me and my papoose. Other boys play with her canoe these days. Tony's long forgotten and there's no way she sends me mystery messages for Valentine's
Day.
I decide to run through a few of the boys that I've done things with, just to see if one of them appears to be my mystery messenger. Chris is one of my first romances. Well, I knew him
even before romances. We shared the secrets of our growing bodies way back when we were both eleven. We showed our dangly bits often, using that as the excuse to touch each other as we compared our dicks
and nuts. Chris has no papoose, and the first time he saw mine he wanted to touch it. Became his favourite excuse for us to get naked together. He'd sneak up on me and whisper in my ear: 'Can I
see that thingie come out of your dickie?' And I'd be only too ready to let him slip back my papoose and pop my red-end out. Felt good, too, when Chris and I did it. But something didn't
click in our hearts even as we shared the joys of our dangly bits. And as we grew older we drifted apart. For Chris couldn't give me what I really wanted, a share of his heart. We are still friends,
just not that sort of friend to exchange messages of love.
My phone sings to tell me that a friend is calling. 'Wassup, Tyler?' I say, knowing from the display that it's his number
calling.
I don't mind that Tyler interrupts my thoughts. For Tyler is my best friend, my very best friend. He lives two houses over and we've been pals since we were ankle-biters. We grow
up living in each other's pockets, sharing birthday parties, vacations, game cartridges, sport teams, trips to parks and all the other things of life. We even swap clothes with the other, borrowing a
favourite blue T-shirt for a day, or a red sweater. That we are exactly the same size means people treat us as twins, real brothers, not just two best friends. Tyler just wants to chat about this and
that, and we spend ten minutes at it.
ITS F8 I WAN 2 :-* WUF U 2
Takes me a minute to figure out the smiley shows a kiss. So my mystery boy wants to pucker up and kiss me. This is driving me
crazy! Who can he be? I think of Mark. He's one of my early romances, too. He's younger than me by two years and he's still in grade school. The same grade school that I went to last year. We
were a number when he was nine, an act perhaps of total madness on my part. But he was so sweet, so shy, so pretty, that I couldn't resist his sheep's eyes, which he flashed at me every time we
met in the playground. As I said, I like getting chased. Even if the pursuer is younger than me. The first time he tried to slip his hand inside my pants as we hid inside my garage I let him. Seduced me,
he did, quickly and neatly. And he always wanted it, more and more, in ever more dangerous places, like sitting in his family room watching TV. But it turns out that Mark wants romances with older boys,
much older boys than me, even with boys leaving teenage and entering early adulthood. So I lost his lovely heart to a college boy. It can't be Mark sending me love notes.
Tyler calls me again
just before bedtime. Nothing special in that. We've chatted just before bed for years now, planning the next day or just sharing something nice that happened today. That we watched SpongeBob on TV
earlier today sitting beside each other doesn't matter. That we ate supper together doesn't matter. For he's my best pal, and if he wants to talk to me anytime it's OK. We know the
other's schedule and we know when to make that last call so as not to catch the other already in bed. We chat about this and that, and plan to meet up half an hour before school, outside his house,
and walk to school together just as we have so many mornings already.
WSH U WR IN MY BED NOW WUF U
The phone beeps an incoming message. I glance at the clock and the digital display says 02:10.
That's two in the morning and who's messaging me. Gotta be spam, I figure. Then I focus on the display and decipher the message. The unknown lover again. I drop the phone on my pillow and try to
fall back to sleep.
Just before I fall asleep I think of Jordan, or "Buttercup" to his best friends. Buttercup is my age. The nickname stuck on him for three reasons. First, he's
blond and curly and looks sorta like the buttercup flower. Second, he's happy and sunny and totally friendly, just like the flower. Not a mean bone to that boy. Most know the first two reasons for
Jordan's nickname. Some know the third. But, as I said already, we don't shout it from the rooftops. Actually, Jordan whispers it as he moves through life. For he's quite girly, which is a
type of boy you all know, and it shows. He's not the only one at school, but Tony doesn't associate with those boys, only with Buttercup. Gotta watch the reputation, you know. These boys
can't help that they hate sports, can't run or throw, and would rather dress pretty and pick nice colours for their rooms. And they call purple lavender. Girls seem to like 'em a lot. Some
boys don't. But at our school acceptance is all, and the rule is just ignore the ones you can't like, but never say anything against them. So Buttercup gets only gentle teasing, which seems to
bounce off his sunny disposition.
I did try a romance with Buttercup. Really I did. He's ever so sweet and happy, and rather affectionate too. Loved to hold hands, touch and cuddle. Always
wanted to do anything that I suggested, if it was to go to the mall for an hour, to play X-Box for an hour, or to make out for an hour. Sorta like a really soft and loving puppy following happily along
behind me. And that's what ended our romance. For it got to the point where I couldn't take his following yet never leading. Drove me crazy that he never suggested what we should do when we got
to the mall, if he wanted to shop for clothes, or look at videogames, or just hang. Drove me crazy that he never suggested the movie we should go to, but always accepted my choice. I had to make all the
decisions. That drives a guy crazy, don't you know?
I did more making out with Buttercup than I did with my other romances. Much more. And all of it was good. For he eagerly did whatever I
wanted him to do. I just had to ask, and he never said no, no matter how often I asked. Whatever part of him I wanted to play with was mine for the asking. We sure popped our nut many times, in many
ways, as we explored the randy early days of adolescence. Then one day it struck me that this was boring, totally boring. And I started to feel a tiny bit guilty. If I asked him to suggest the next
moves, he'd look at me with soft, hurt eyes that made me feel guilty for asking, for putting such a burden on him. Big eyes that would plead with me, saying: 'I have not a clue what to do next.
Please tell me what to do.'
So Buttercup really needed to be led. To be mastered, in fact. I knew enough about romance to know that one of the pair has to lead. But that lead can and should
switch from time to time. I also knew that it's fun to be led sometimes, to do the other's wishes, for variety is the spice of love. And that two brains can invent much more fun than one. So we
parted, still friends, more in sorrow than in anger. For I really can't give my pal Jordan what he really wants.
WNT 2 PLAY? LUWAMH
Yet another message beeps on my mobile. Someone who
"loves you with all my heart" asks if I "want to play?" This drives me crazy. All I can think about is who the mystery lover is. And, if I figure out who he is, do I want to take him
on? For as much as I like being chased, I gotta like the guy chasing me, if we are going to get too far. Tony's quite free and easy with letting guys have a little peek, or a little feel, or a little
play and maybe a hug or three. But I don't even kiss boys that I don't like. And I draw the line at going much further with guys that I don't really like. Means I really got to know who's
messaging me.
You guys reading this story probably used paper notes in your day. But then you'd know who handed you the message, who wanted to play with you, who loved you with all their
heart.
Of course I see Tyler all this time. For we've hardly ever had a day in our lives when we don't see each other a couple of times. Couple of times we've gone out of town on
vacation. Apart from that he's at my house as often as I am at his. Seems we meet every couple of hours, and it's as if we've not been apart, but we take up exactly where we left off at our
last meeting. I don't have a brother, and Tyler is the closest thing I have to that. He lives in my heart. Yet some very few things I don't share with Tyler. The details of sex with my loves is
one thing. For he doesn't need to know that, even if he knows who's in my heart at the time, or who's just left it. Not that he ever asks, for Tyler is not one to say too much at best of
times, not even about sex. He's the real strong silent type, which most boys are. So I don't want to tell Tyler about my mystery messages. I'm sure he'd listen were I to tell him. But
what's he gonna do to help me?
I think some more about the mystery messenger. Some boys won't flirt with another boy and it's not that they don't want to flirt with boys. It's
just that they haven't met the right boy. But when the right one comes along and shows himself, they're ready for romance. And it is so easy to confuse these boys with those who genuinely
won't flirt with any boy, no matter how pretty, no matter how big his muscles. If it's one of these, it could be any boy in school and the possibilities are endless.
Then there is another
possible complication. Some boys with a stream of girlfriends won't have anything to do with romancing another boy. They are what you call totally straight. That's their loss. But some boys who
sport girlfriends will flirt with a boy, provided he's the right boy. I've chased a few of those, watching and waiting, and sliding in when the girl's not there to slip the sweetie's hand
in mine and whisper sweet words in his ear. This is fun, if wicked fun. So my mystery lover could be a boy who currently has a girlfriend, but wants to ditch her and get it on with Tony. Now, who can
that boy be?
ID LOV 2B IN UR PANTS RIGHT NOW
Gosh! This is getting hotter and hotter. Now I can't think about much else than solving the mystery. And there's not too many boys left to
consider. There's Sam, who follows me about sometimes, but not always. Not that he's shy or anything, but he comes and goes into my group of friends at school, leaving us for another group. Just
a social butterfly, I suppose, trying to find a group to join, or happy being in all groups. I don't think it is Sam who messages me. But if it is, wow! For Sam's a cutie, and the thought of him
wanting to be in my pants right now excites me. All he gotta do is ask. Doesn't the sweetie know that I'd let him do me in a flash?
Now I get some serious wood, thinking about who wants to
do me, and what he might do once he gets inside my pants. You know it doesn't take much at my age to have a boner attack. The damn thing just pops up without warning, even when I do serious stuff
like declining French verbs in class. Tyler and I spoke about jacking off years ago. We'd even tried it together once or twice in the years before we could squirt. Felt nice to have his fingers rub
and tug on my stiffie, so I knew it felt nice for him too when I rubbed and tugged on his stiffie. But he stopped me before we got too far. We never did pop the other's nut. And I sensed some feeling
of guilt with him doing it with me. So our sex life consisted, after those few fumbles, of telling each other about what we did alone in the privacy of the shower, or under the blankets at
night.
Tyler and I continue to be physically close, sharing showers on the odd occasion, baths when we were younger, and undressing in front of the other with no problem. So we know what the other
looks like from top to toe and everywhere in between. I sneak peeks at his dangly bits, but never ask him if I can handle them since his early guilt trip. We sleep together quite often, as brothers
cuddled up in the same bed, even as I dream of a true lover with me under the blankets. It's very nice to sleep with someone you like, even if there's no prospect of romance. Even if he'll
never offer his hand to my urgent stiffie.
WEN I TNK OF U I GT HORNY
Another incoming message. And still I have no clue who it might be. I know that I've chased after many boys, just as
many have chased after me. Can it be a sweetie who rejected my approach last month comes to his senses now and sends me love notes? But, who can that be? Which boy of the many that I flirted with? Oooh,
it's enough to make the head hurt.
Today is Valentine's Day and at school I get candies and little treats from various friends, even from some old lovers. Buttercup gives me a sticker with
a flower on it and I stick it on the front of my shirt. Gifts on Valentine's Day are the custom at our school, so most everyone exchanges stuff. I give Tyler a Mars bar, just 'cuz he's my
best friend and he gives me a pencil covered in little red hearts. Silly stuff, really, but still neat.
My only disappointment is that I don't have a romance going on today. I keep hoping that
some boy will slide up to me, pinch my bum, or hold my hand and try to flirt. But nothing happens. School ends and, just as we do everyday, Tyler and I walk home.
'Gotta get something at my
house,' he mutters as we get close to home. This is unusual, for we usually both go into one or other of our houses to play after school. I watch him enter his house and, shrugging my shoulders at
his mysterious behaviour, I enter mine.
I LIKE UR LEGS N WAZ N BETWEEN
The phone beeps again and another mystery message shows on my screen. Now everyone sees my legs when I wear shorts in the
summer, and many have seen what's in between. Most like what they see. So that doesn't help in identifying the mystery messenger. I drop the phone on the bed and resume reading my
book.
'Hey Tony. It's me,' comes the yell from downstairs.
'C'mon up, Tyler,' I yell back. Not that Tyler needs any invitation to come up. He's barged into my
room ever since he could walk, just as I've barged into his room. If I don't have my pants on, it's nothing. For we treat each other's room as our own.
Tyler comes into my room, a
stupid grin across his face. And his hands are behind his back. I only glance up at him then go back to the book I'm reading. Tyler slams into the carpet beside me and sits, our backs resting on the
side of my bed, our legs touching.
'Here. This is for you,' he says in a very strange voice, thrusting a small package into my lap, where it sits on top of my book.
I stare at it in
amazement. For it's a box of chocolates. Those heart-shaped boxes they sell for Valentine's Day with five chocolates inside. And there's a yellow sticky note on top of the box. I read the
note and in a second I turn and leap on top of Tyler, push him over on to the carpet, and climb on top of him. A couple of the chocolates get mashed between our chests as I land on top of him. His arms
come round me in a great big hug and pull me tighter against him.
My mind goes at a frantic rate as I figure out what this all means. Stupid Tonimus has mis-read all the messages. Stupid Tonimus
has mis-read his best friend for years now. And it's so obvious. How could Tony have been so witless? D'oh and double-d'oh! Tyler is the one. And Tyler loves me. Wants to do things with me.
Wants to share more of his heart with me than I already own.
In another second our lips meet, open and kiss. It strikes me that I haven't kissed Tyler since we were four years old, and never
with my tongue. More's the pity. And down below my stiffie throbs fully hard against Tyler's.
The yellow note falls away in the ruckus. It lies on the carpet beside us. It says: LUWAMH
TONY & I WAN U & IM HOT 4 U & I LIKE UR LEGS N WAZ N BETWEEN. WUF FROM TYLER.
End of Valentine Sweetie
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