Aug 14, 2016

Don't Be Nervous: My Date with My Mentally Disabled Neighbor

This is a continuation of My Mentally Disabled Neighbor and the Underwear Stuff

Plains, August 2016

I went into my date with Timmy, my mentally disabled neighbor, with some trepidation.  For nine months I had been thinking of him as someone a little off, who needed to be humored and tolerated, who needed protection and caretaking, who was in effect a child.  On a date I would have to think of him -- and treat him -- as an equal, someone with his own tastes, attitudes, interests, and opinions.

Why did I want a date with him?  He was extremely cute, about 30, with black hair slicked back, and nice biceps, but there were dozens of guys like that in town.  I could go on Grindr for a few minutes and get offers from five or six.

I conducted research. I sought advice from my friends.  I stalked Timmy on Facebook.  Then, Friday night at 6:00 pm sharp, he knocked on my door.

He was wearing his usual blue t-shirt and jeans, extra bulgy -- had he stuffed a sock down there?

"Hi, Boomer.  I came to take you to Kansas.  I got you a flower."  He handed me one of those plastic roses they sell at convenience stores.

The full story, with nude photos and explicit sexual content, is on Tales of West Hollywood.

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