The Elevator Encounter

The elevator doors opened, and in walked a familiar face. He was handsome, fit, and bright. A rugged outdoor-adventure physique clad in suave corporate-fashion good looks. And dimples to accentuate his I’m-so-comfortable-in-my-male-skin smile. I had never fantasized about him sexually, but if I had to pick a man to play around with in my mind, he would top my list.

“Hi! You’re so-and-so… Oh yes, and you are so-and-so…” Handshake. Smiles. And…

In the past, I would have done one of two things: (1) stiffened my posture so that I did not give any hint that I was attracted to him, which usually involved demonizing his maleness in some way in my mind; or (2) inadvertently let out a sign of my not-good-enough male insecurity by cowering into the corner or avoiding looking him in the eyes.

… my eyes stayed on his.

In my heart were successive bursts of thought-palpitations:

• “Damn. What a good looking guy!”
• “Gorgeous blue eyes.”
• “His shirt is open, his chest is hairy and muscular.”
• “I really like him.”
• “Am I melting?”
• “No, I am not melting…”
• “I am still standing!”
• “Oh, he is softening.”
• “Is he sensing my warmth towards him?”
• “Wow, I am feeling a softness towards him and I am not afraid!”

As I continued to look and smile into his eyes, his face softened even more. It seemed as if a voice within him was whispering, “oh, I am in the presence of another confident man.”

Weather, recent projects, need for a holiday, etc. Surface chatter. But beneath all that, two men were connecting emotionally. And they knew it.

Ground floor. We smiled again and exchanged goodbyes.

More thoughts:

• “He is a good looking guy.”
• “I can’t get what I want from him sexually.”
• “Erm... he is a great looking [read: sexy] guy, but what I want from him is not sex!”
• “I just like him and want to be his friend.”
• “And he seems to like me.”
• “He’s okay.”
• “I am okay!” . . .
  

• “What a weird feeling.”

As I walked out of the elevator, I reflected on my experience. How was it possible that I found myself completely un-intimidated by this man?

Then feelings of being loved and affirmed in my relationship with Brother A came to mind. Being naked together; being hugged by him for a long time; being fully loved for who I am in a non-sexual way. These are a few of my favorite things. And in that place of intimate love and acceptance—God’s love for me through Brother A, in the real—is a birthing of a new sense of security in my own masculinity.

And so when I peered into the eyes of my elevator encounter, my eyes were able to tell him: “I am man.” “I like you.” “I am man, just like you.”

And I imagined that his boy-soul within him responded: “You are boy.” “I am boy.” “Let’s play together.”

Yeah. Let’s play together.