“the little brown one” called to check in with me this morning and somehow we got to talking about bringing homeless men home for a little sex in the afternoon. We have some amazing conversations he and I.

This brought back conflicting memories for me and I thought that I needed to share the experience with you, my gentle and loyal readers.

Many years ago, when I was still living in San Francisco, I was fortunate enough to meet an amazing man named PIN. Yes I said “PIN” and I wasn’t referring to that little number you need to get cash out of the ATM. PIN was a beautiful man. He had short thick, wavy black hair and an olive complexion that Hercules would envy, and a trim, tight body without the pesky attributes of the gym attitude. PIN was also homeless. I met PIN while walking into “The PIT” (a moment of silence for its passing please). The PIT was a great club, and on Monday nights they would spin a mix of early house and Industrial (think Nitzer Ebb and Front 242 mixed with Wax Trax classics). He was standing by the door with the bouncer and our eyes met and I felt my heart flutter. He smiled at me and said “Hi“. A little while later on the dance floor he came over and danced with me.

One thing led to another and soon we were in my apartment rolling on the floor in a passionate embrace. It was at this point that he informed me that he had nowhere to go, that he lived on the street (He was clean and smelled nice, so I was shocked). He also told me that he wasn’t gay (then why were you macking with me just now?).

I told him that he could stay with me as long as he wanted (I was young and innocent) and he thanked me by giving me a night filled with passion that I’d never known before. I did things with this “straight” man that I’ve never done since and I’ll never share the details, but let me say this… there is nothing like getting it on with a straight man thats comfortable with his sexuality.

The days passed in bliss for me. Tuesday rolled into Wednesday, into Thursday and PIN was always there when I got home from work. Waiting for me with a smile on his face and a twinkle in his beautiful brown eyes. The passion filled nights were amazing and have left a warm feeling that gets me even now more than a decade after.

One evening, we were laying in bed talking quietly and he offered me one of his earrings. I eagerly accepted and asked him to put it in for me. I, in turn, offered him one of mine to fill the now empty hole in his ear. I got out of bed and grabbed my jewelry bowl, and fishing thru it for something that would fit this mysterious man, I returned to the bed deciding to let him make the choice. He chose a big golden hoop. I’m talking BIG golden hoop, the kind you might see on a black woman in the ghettos (Not to be racist, but you guys all visualized what I was talking about). He inserted the hoop into his ear and grabbed me into a big hug, holding me and talking quietly with me until we both drifted off to sleep.

Friday night, the bottom fell out. He said that he needed to leave. He was headed home to Philadelphia because there were problems with his family. His Mother had sent him an airline ticket (which he had cashed in and bought a much cheaper bus ticket and used the rest on, well, probably drugs) and he was due to leave town within a few days.

I knew in my heart that I’d never truly keep PIN because wild animals cannot be caged, but I was grateful for having him make a brief stop in my life. I wonder if he remembers me or ever thinks about me. I think of him from time to time and every time I do, I think…

“You mother fucker! I opened my home to you, I opened my heart to you, and you stole my Mutha fucking earrings!“