Every time I see him across the bar, my breath stops. He is the most beautiful boy I have ever seen.
He is Valdosta's doppelganger. The same 5'8" stature. The same beard. The same blue eyes. The first few times I saw him, I was convinced it actually was Valdosta. Except he's Valdosta minus 20 or 30 pounds. He is beautiful.
I don't have the guts to speak to him because if I ever opened my mouth, I'm pretty sure "You are the most beautiful boy I have ever seen" would come tumbling out. But to be honest, I'm not sure if I ever would have noticed him had I not had the relationship with Valdosta that I did. I fully realize that I'm attracted to boys that look like him in order to recapture what I once felt.
When we played against his kickball team, I pointed him out to Lawyered's fiancée. "That right there is a beautiful boy," I said.
"Which one?" she asked, craning her neck to look at the outfield.
"The one with the calf tattoo."
"Um, Sarah. You must have really bad eyes. That isn't a tattoo. It looks like a large scab."
"Or maybe its his AIDS lesion," I cracked.
Except my voice tends to carry. And he looked over to us on the sideline. The beautiful boy had heard me joke about him having AIDS. Lawyered's fiancée doubled over laughing.
So that happened.