The Husband Cult of Wilton Manors
Part 1
"Good morning, new neighbors!"
We were unloading our 10FT trailer into our new house when a friendly, deep voice spoke to us from behind and almost scared the shit out of me. I was about to let a box of fragile glass drop when another pair of hands swoop around and helped me stabilize the box.
"Whoa, there. Sorry buddy. I didn't mean to scare you," the stranger said.
I squinted my eyes from the sun as I turned to look at the tall man wearing a green day glo tank top, baseball cap and glasses, and sweat pant shorts. I felt his left-hand touch mine under the box.
"Let's put this down," I said lowering the box onto the back of the truck.
I reached out my hand to shake.
"I'm Mike and that's Bobby, my husband," I said nodding in Bobby's direction as he returned from inside the house.
"I'm Doug," he said as he stretched out his hairy forearm to eagerly grab my hand.
"Bobby, pleased to meet you too. My hubby's Juan Pedro. He's at work right now. I'm retired but someone's gotta bring the home the bacon, right?"
We all laughed.
"We live right next door," he pointed to the pastel blue ranch style home to the right of us.
"Where are y'all coming from?" Doug said smiling.
"We're from Boston. Bobby was offered a job in the Fort Lauderdale office of the bank he works for. It was here or Chicago, and we are now at a point in our lives when we only want to see the snow on tv or during the Winter Olympics"
"I hear you," Doug replied. "I'm from North Carolina and that's as close as I ever want to get to snow country," he said laughing as he rubbed his salt and pepper moustache. He lifted his sunglasses then took a long lingering look at both of us and smiled appreciatively. I thought I saw him lick sweat from his upper lip.
"Say, you guys need a hand with some of the heavier stuff? I've got 20 minutes before I have to head out on for a doctor's appointment." He approached the truck and said. "How about I help you with that huge couch back there?"
We took Doug up on his offer since the couch is a sofa bed and a heavy piece of furniture. Between the three of us we had it inside the living room in a matter of minutes.
Doug raised his tank top to wipe sweat from his brow. He wasn't muscled, but hairy and solid. Bobby squeezed my hand as Doug wiped around his "So, you picked a great place to move to for gay couples. This is a wonderful place. You can really be yourself, people look out for each other, and there are a lot of handsome distractions walking shirtless all year round."
"Yes, we noticed that about this place. Even some hairy bearish guys like me aren't ashamed to show it off," Bobby added.
"It's important for us to be in a diverse place," I said, "for obvious reasons being that we're an multiracial gay couple. I was the only black man in our suburb in Boston. We got some stares now and then. But here at least I see some men of color in the area here and I feel comfortable already."
"I hear you," said Doug. "Here nobody bats an eye at differences. Look, I'm 64 and my husband is 27 and Hispanic."
"Wow, that's great," I said as I tried to picture the 27-year-old husband next to the tall and hairy mustached daddy sweating in our new home.
"Are there many married male couples on our street?" Bobby asked.
Doug nodded. "There's Ed and Phil who also run a B&B out of their home at the end of the street. And Chris, Joe and Pete – they're a threesome, or a thrupple as they say – who live two streets over. And a few more nearby. All us married couples get together often for potlucks and swim parties. It's gratifying being around other men committed to each other, don't you think? I'll be sure to invite you to the next gathering."
"Great, we'd like that," I said as Bobby nodded in agreement.
"Cool. Say, how about you boys come over tonight and we'll make you a welcome to the gayborhood dinner? You'll be tired after a long day of moving in and a home cooked meal would do you good. You like steaks, chicken and salad?"
"Sounds great, Doug, but really...," I started to say.
"No, I insist. And I want you to meet JP...Juan Pedro...he makes a great mojito!"
"Come by any time after 6," Doug said.
He slapped us both on the arms on his way out. "See you then, gaybors!" As the door closed behind him, Bobby turned to me and said, "Well, this is off to a good start. A place that feels like we belong here." He kissed me on the lips as I nodded and moaned.
"Yes, babe...a new life for us here. But first we have a shitload of unpacking to do."
With that, we returned hand in hand back outside to empty the U-Haul.