Page 27 of Love Language

Marco was new to the area and said that he was looking for Deaf community. And while Greg wasn’t about to drive out to the suburbs for a munch, Marco might appreciate it.

It was at least an excuse to text him. As friends, of course.

He slid out his phone. He could totally be professional and friendly about this.

Greg: Hey Marco.

Greg: I know that you’re looking for Deaf community in the city, and I just heard about a munch that apparently has some Deaf folks. I haven’t been so I can’t promise anything.

Greg: Would you like the info?

Marco: Hey Greg, glad you text. Info, yes.

Greg felt his face warm. Marco was glad he’d texted. He quickly sent the information along, starting with the contact info of the person he could check in with about attending.

Marco’s response bubbled up, then disappeared. Then bubbled again.

Marco: Thank you. Want come with?

Did he? Did he? It was just a munch. But all those new people. And Marco...

Greg: I can’t make it. Tell me how it goes.

Marco: I will give you report. =)

There. That was better. Friendly. Like anyone else passing some useful information along to someone they’d met up with once, who just so happened to be a hookup.

Greg tried not to examine why he felt the teensiest bit of longing to go to see Marco. Or why he was maybe the teensiest bit worried that Marco would find another sub, a Deaf sub, at the event.

He slipped the phone back into his pocket and reluctantly turned back to his work.

◆◆◆

Marco: Hey Greg! Munch finish… ugh.

Greg read Marco’s text twice. It was Saturday afternoon and he’d been working in the garden so when the text had come in a few hours ago, he'd missed it.

Greg: Why? What happened?

Marco: You right, few Deaf people there. One couple, one sub. Couple lots of drama. Sub hit on me whole time.

Greg: Haha. You poor baby.

Greg: No, I’m sorry. That sounds frustrating.

Marco: Yeah. He not cute like you.

Greg could feel his cheeks burning. He’d never been cute before, either. How could Marco think he was cute? He was almost fifteen years older and balding.

Greg: I’m not cute.

He realized as soon as he said it that he shouldn’t have taken the bait.

Marco: Yeah. You cute you. Adorable. Hot.

Marco: But I won’t hit on you unless it’s OK.

The words sounded stilted over text, but Greg could imagine Marco’s signs. Not to mention his warm smile, the glint in his eye, his sincerity.