Devon Hunter

Quite some time back, I did an interview with former Titan Man, Josh O’Hara. Since that time he and I have become good friends, and I enjoy seeing him every visit to San Francisco. He’s a beautiful man, but I think we as a community should start distinguishing what we mean by that. When I say Josh is beautiful, it is because he is as kind, good, and intelligent as he is handsome. Here is a poem he wrote (some of the imagery of which reminds me of my Valentine haiku from February, 2010). I love it, and I hope you do, too.

“In Winter”
by Josh O’Hara

In winter,
there will be no children passing from my door
to play in the hinterland of the summer stricken fields.

The dandelions will continue-

as they have for centuries,

to slumber on hilltops

while

winds rage through a cold,

and wild Nantucket.

Summer is a fable here.

While calmly,

I contemplate the rising heat from your skin
that swirls into the glacial sky.

I am struck by the beauty that is you

and

I can begin to imagine
what it would be like:

To hold your hand through an Indian Summer.

Bending low. Leaning low.
Though not breaking-

Yet, falling still-

my petals

scatter with the wind

Casting me into the wilderness

Of you.

An acquaintance I’ve had for some years and who has always been attracted to me has just set up an appointment. His boyfriend hurt him and they broke up, and he needs to splurge on himself. And he has chosen to do that with me. He says I have always turned him on, and that I’ve always been kind to him. So when he was trying to figure out what to do to pamper himself, I came immediately to mind.

I am going to cook dinner for him afterward. He needs to be taken care of, and having known him for five years, I can honestly say that I am happy to do it for him. He is a good soul, and I want him to feel better.

For me there is no issue doing an appointment with him, though he is nervous it will change our interaction. I have not spent much time with him in person, and so I believe he is over-thinking all this. At any rate, I’ve never been hired by someone whom I knew personally before my foray into this life. I’m rather intrigued by it!

I just want him to feel better.

EDIT:

He just left. All we did was talk and hold hands. It’s what he needed, and I’m glad he trusted me with some of what he was sharing for the first time with anyone in his life.

Okay, a little background about what’s going on lately. I’ve been pretty open about being an escort with just about everyone. I tend to treat it the way Madonna did when pictures of her came out in Penthouse way back in 1985. Her response was something on the order of, “Yeah. And?” It kinda killed that particular controversy.

I didn’t become an escort to shock people. In fact that has nothing to do with it at all. I embraced it knowing it would be controversial, but I didn’t make the choice for controversy’s sake. And it’s a good thing, too: No one I’ve met thus far has been particularly shocked. Not that I’m disappointed, but it’s rather surprising. Family, potential partners, friends, and readers all have the same response: “Okay, just be careful. I’m not gonna judge you.”

This is fabulous on the one hand, but it raises a question on the other: Have we, on some level at least, moved into the post-controversy era? Have so many people been exposed as adult video models and exotic dancers on American Idol that no one cares anymore? Did reality TV finally drive the first nail into the coffin of prudence/prurience? I certainly hope so.

As far as family goes: Mom knows. So does Gramma. My sister knows. I told Dad, and he took it as a compliment to himself that his son is a “stud” (even though I’m adopted, and it’s not his genes at work per se). I’ve not told Dad’s mother, because although she is probably a teensy bit more liberal than she pretends, she does still send me conservative political emails about what Rush Limbaugh “thinks,” so I just don’t wanna go there right now. I’ve not told my uncles, but I’m not close enough to most of them for it to matter, and Uncle Greg would probably just laugh and give me his rendition of the Celtic Warriors’ greeting (which is using the heel of the palm to rub quick circles in the center of the friend’s chest while grunting “AAAAAARGH!”).

My friends haven’t judged me negatively at all. Zero. Zilch. Nada. Not a single one is anything but supportive.

In terms of personal relationships with other men: I didn’t escort until after breaking it off with Steve last summer, so there was no one to tell until Matt back in December. He didn’t care about that. He has other issues, but my escorting isn’t one of them. “J” (someone I’ve talked to on and off for nearly four years, but never dated) decided to finally pursue me right in the middle of this Matt situation, and he isn’t offended (in fact, he asked if I thought he could use escorting to pay off his house). “A” is another guy who has shown interest, both in me and in escorting. Shawn, a model in D.C., is definitely not put off by it. In short, while I’m trying to heal from Matt there are people pursuing me who aren’t allowing my being a courtesan to dissuade them in the least. How fucking irritating! OMG!

To put all this into context, a reader in Canada named Doug shows my blog to his mother. Doug is about Mom’s age, if not a few years older. His mother is thus older than Gramma. She said to Doug that I am “possessed of the refined sensibilities that demand a well-appointed house.” Aside from being utterly charming in an Old World Colonial manner, her comment shows that even Canadians of a certain age don’t care about all this (but they have a vastly different sexual culture north of the U.S. border). She went on to say that I “should marry a doctor.” Doug is going to ask her advice for me on finding a well-appointed man. She is concerned about my safety in escorting, to which I replied, “I meet worse men dating than I ever have escorting.” Doug’s father has said, “When men say they love you, remember that they also love Ketchup.” Mhm. Perhaps I should stop threatening to move to Canada and just do it?

So, all in all, I’ve been expecting a big hullabaloo, but society at large has given me the Madonna treatment: Yeah. And?

I think I’m completed elated by this.

PS

Don’t forget to place your vote for Best Escort Blog for the 2010 Hookies by visiting my ad on Rentboy! The check boxes are at the bottom of the righthand sidebar.

Dear Matt,

When I wrote this I wanted to make you into heaven-angel/landscape-garden, because of your blue eyes (sky), light hair (sun), fair skin (clouds/marble), and intoxicating sex (flowers/nectar). Do you see how beautiful you are to me?

The structure of the poem is this: I created three haiku. I don’t know if you know what a haiku is, but it is a strictly set form from Japan. The poem must have three lines, the first line having exactly five syllables, the second having exactly seven, and the third exactly five again. That’s hard to do, especially when you also have to say something metaphorical within those parameters!!

Anyway, I used the first haiku to make connections between you and heaven, the second to make you an angel (fitting for Valentine’s Day, since cupid is a winged god), and the third to connect you to flowers and their scents.

Something else to notice: The vowel patterns. Azure/hallowed/hand/dazzling/man/happy all have the same “a” sound in them, and they are all penultimate (next to the last) words on the first and second lines of each haiku. There is also a true rhyme with gates/radiates/opiates, and a false rhyme (same sound, difference spelling of sound) with rays/haze/bouquets. There is another true rhyme on the first word of the third line of each haiku with baring/daring/flaring.

Finally, and this was important, given that the other poem you said was written about you didn’t make sense, the three haiku can be read as one sentence that says exactly what I mean: You are a beautifully intoxicating man.

Heaven’s azure gates
open under hallowed rays,
baring an angel

whose hand radiates
prisms of dazzling haze,
daring me to hope

his man-opiates
will be, like happy bouquets,
flaring into bloom.

Thus:
Heaven’s azure gates open under hallowed rays, baring an angel whose hand radiates prisms of dazzling haze, daring me to hope his man-opiates will be, like happy bouquets, flaring into bloom.

PS

Don’t forget to place your vote for Best Escort Blog for the 2010 Hookies by visiting my ad on Rentboy! The check boxes are at the bottom of the righthand sidebar.

I get a massage almost weekly without exception. I need them. Between working out, dancing, traveling, and life I have to. I don’t have health insurance, so I have to take care of myself with exercise, diet, and massage. I intend to add a bit more cardio to my life, and I am going to (at some point finally) add yoga back in as well. I really cannot recommed enough that you find a massage therapist with a healing touch.

And how can I not share that with someone who needs it? A friend has been in pain. Finally last night I convinced him to go with me. I got mine done, and then he laid on the table after me. It was so gratifying to see the changes in his body taking place as Ron worked the knots, kinks, locks, blocks, and regrets out of my friend’s back, legs, arms, neck, and feet. I felt like I’d done a double-session, just by watching the second hour. I was surprised at how nice it was just to watch the process that I find so healing.

Today my friend is smiling, breathing, laughing… He always does this, of course; however, today he is doing it with a levity of spirit. And that is really amazing. Both because he feels better, but because I do too. I really enjoyed doing this for him, and I hope I can keep tripping over little ways to give back to the people who feed my spirit.