Skinny dipping in Lake Michigan wasn’t the only crazy thing I did with Lowell. I thought he might kiss me after he wrapped his arms around me, but he didn’t. He just held me tight. It felt good. It felt really good. Thinking back, I guess perhaps I should have made a move, but something held me back. I wasn’t quite sure what it was.

The next Monday while I was working in my office, I received a text from Lowell that asked if I liked bowling. I was startled that he would even ask. I considered the ability to bowl and enjoying the game was a birthright growing up in the upper Midwest whether Wisconsin or Minnesota. I sent back a message that said:

We decided to get together that night and go bowling, but it turned into an unexpected adventure. I didn’t know that Milwaukee contained the oldest certified bowling alley in the country. It was only two lanes, and the pins were set up by kids making a few bucks in a part-time job.

We were the only two people bowling. We had nowhere to sit, and we had to keep score with paper and pencil, but it was great fun. As Lowell bowled a strike with the very first ball, I asked, “Are you a professional?”

He laughed and said, “No, I just had a lot of experience being away from home when I was a kid. Home wasn’t very quiet, and there were a lot of arguments, so I found things to do away from home when I could. Bowling was one of them. Sometimes I went with friends, and sometimes I just went on my own.”

I said, “I tagged along when my older sister went bowling with her friends. She was supposed to be my babysitter and finally got frustrated that she had to miss out on getting together with them because she had to take care of me. Soon, she just started taking me along.”

We were both pretty good at bowling, but Lowell had an edge. I said, “It must be the home court advantage.”

He gave me a sly grin and said, “I’ll take any advantage I can get.”

We weren’t really dating, because we didn’t end the nights with kisses or hop in bed together, but it started to feel like Lowell was my date. I looked forward to the time we spent together, and we shared a lot of hugs and physical contact even if it wasn’t overtly sexual in nature. I hoped for more soon, but I was having too much fun to complain about the present.

Two evenings after the bowling, Lowell called me and asked, “Do you know how to polka?”

I laughed and said, “I can’t say that anybody has ever asked me that question.”

“Well, what’s the answer?”

“I’ve done it many times at family weddings, and we were taught how in gym class, so I guess I do.”

Lowell said, “That’s perfect!”

I was confused. I asked, “We’re going to a wedding? Why do you need to know if I can polka?”

He said, “No, Sven. We’re going to a polka bar.”

I said, “I don’t mean to sound stupid, but I’ve never been to a polka bar. I’m not sure I know what one is.”

He laughed. “There’s not a lot to understand. It’s polka dancing in a bar. Just put on some nice jeans and a button-up shirt, and I’ll pick you up in about twenty minutes.”

The evening turned out to be the most fun I’d had in a long, long time. We drank and had simple bar food like macaroni and cheese and burgers. Then we danced. Lowell was even more sexy when he was dancing. He knew what he was doing, and nobody blinked an eye at two guys dancing together.

After the first two dances, we switched partners and danced with women. We both got a lot of compliments on our polka skills. When we finally took a break, I was out of breath and nearly fell into Lowell’s arms.

He asked, “Are you having a good time?”

I said, “I’m having a great time. Do you do stuff like this all the time, Lowell? This is just crazy fun. It would be like being at a big, fat wedding reception every night.”

Lowell said, “It’s hard to have so much fun when I’m just roaming the city on my own. I need a partner in crime, Sven. Loosen up a little, and we can go on even wilder adventures.”

I felt a shiver up my spine. I was cautious. It was hard-wired into my brain. The idea of being more of an adventurer was exciting, but the adventure skinny dipping in Lake Michigan pushed my comfort with risky behavior to the edge.

I stared into Lowell’s eyes across a round table, and he asked me, “What about skydiving, Sven?”

My eyes widened, and then I slowly shook my head. “No, I can’t do that. It’s too…”

Lowell interrupted me and said, “I think that’s our goal then.”

I felt that shiver again, and I asked, “Have you gone skydiving?”

He shook his head and said, “Nope, I’ve never had the right guy to go with.”

I asked, “What makes you think you have the right guy to go with now?”

He grinned and said, “I watched you polka.”

---

On Friday I pre-empted any effort for another grand adventure. I was trying to catch my breath. I called Lowell when I got home from work and asked him if he wanted to come over to my place for pizza. He accepted immediately.

When he arrived, I gave him a hug and asked if it would be okay to just stay in for the evening. I suggested watching something on TV and enjoying the pizza and a few beers.

Lowell cocked his head to one side and asked, “Am I a little too much for ya, Sven?”

I smiled and said, “Not too much, but I need to catch my breath.”

He said, “We need to get you on a zip line.”

I said, “Now that does sound fun!”

The pizza arrived five minutes after Lowell. He asked, “What, no anchovies this time?”

I picked a slice of pepperoni off the pizza, held it to his mouth, and said, “Here, imagine this was a fish.”

“You know, Sven, I really like that you have a sense of humor. Some guys just think I’m a little too much, and they start to back away,” said Lowell.

I took a bite of one of the slices of pizza before putting it on my plate to take to the living room. After wiping my face with a napkin, I said, “You might be a little much, but it feels like something that I need.”

Lowell grinned. He said, “That’s good to know.”

I sat on the couch next to Lowell with my pizza on the coffee table surfing through channels looking for an interesting travel show. I sighed heavily when it looked like I was out of luck.

Lowell piped up and asked, “How about a cheesy horror movie? Do you like those?”

I leaned against Lowell and laughed saying, “When I was a little kid, I used to stay up late on the weekend watching horror movies on TV, and then I would have these awful nightmares and run to my parents’ bedroom. My mom would take me back upstairs to my bedroom and tuck me in and tell me that the monsters weren’t real. It turned into a habit, and eventually the horror movies got cut off.”

Lowell said, “She had to break her little boy’s addiction.” then he asked, “So does that mean yes or no and watching a horror movie?”

I said, “I’d love it, but I’m calling you if I have nightmares.”

“Do you have popcorn?”

I answered, “For the microwave.”

Lowell and I settled in for an evening of watching creepy, cheesy horror movies together. He asked if I liked bloody stuff or if I preferred something that made me wonder what was in the closet or under the stairs. I told him that I wasn’t really into the blood, but the other sounded great. That’s why I kept glancing into the darkness of the rest of the house and finally got up to say I was going to turn the light on in the kitchen.

When I came back to the couch, Lowell said, “You really are a little scared, aren’t you?”

“Is that a big surprise?” I asked as I settled back down and leaned against him.

He answered, “Yeah, sorta. I mean, I love having the big surprise in the movie where everybody jumps, including me. But for me, then the moment has passed. I never wonder what’s in the dark, and I don’t really connect the movie to real life.”

I asked, “So do you think I’m just weird or a wimp?”

He shook his head vehemently. “Oh, no, not at all, Sven. I think it’s…” He paused. “How do I put this? It’s really pretty sweet, and I kind of envy you.”

“Envy me?”

He leaned back a little bit. “Yeah, I do. It sounds like you believe things, and you trust things. I don’t feel the same way, and I’m not proud of it.” Then he excused himself and said he had to go to the bathroom. I thought I saw one eye start to tear up before he left.

When Lowell returned to the living room, the emotion that had been creeping to the surface was gone. He asked if I wanted to watch one more movie. I said, “Sure. It’s late, but tomorrow is the weekend. I don’t need to get up early.”

Lowell asked, “What does your weekend look like?”

I said, “I was sort of hoping that tomorrow I could get that gutter put back in place. I was reading online how to do it, and I think I can get it taken care of. I’m going to go out and buy a ladder from a hardware store.”

He said, “Don’t go climbing on a ladder like that by yourself.”

I turned to him and asked, “Do you have a better suggestion?”

He poked himself in the chest. “I don’t really want to invite myself over, but I could help out with that if you aren’t sick of me by now.”

I was so very far from being sick of Lowell. In fact, I was starting to see him as a regular part of my life. I knew that it would be hard to not see him for more than a few days. I said, “I’m not sick of you at all. Honestly, Lowell, I have a lot of fun when we’re together.”

He gave me a sort of sheepish grin. “Yeah, hanging out with you is a lot more fun than I’ve had in a long time.”

“Something to drink?” I asked. “For the last movie?”

He said, “I think I should be done with both caffeine and alcohol for the night. How about water? Or tea?”

I smiled and said, “Iced tea coming up.”

We settled together on the couch to watch a young family get menaced by the ghosts and creepy stuff that called the basement of their newly purchased house home. At one of the movie’s key scary moments, I grabbed Lowell and pushed my face into his shoulder so that I didn’t have to look. He responded by running his fingers through my hair and then telling me when it was safe to open my eyes.

The first thing that I saw when I opened my eyes again was Lowell’s smiling face.