While waiting for the number 15 bus on Broadway and First streets  I felt someone was looking at me.  I turned to my right and noticed this older Filipino guy leaning against the same bank building I was.  I looked towards him and nodded my head but received no response that I could see.  Shrugging to myself I assumed that he was no longer interested in me or that I had somehow crossed signals so I went back to gazing into space.  A little later, though, I felt eyes on me and turned around just in time to catch him looking in my direction.  I will say right now that I did not mind in the least that he was looking me over.  In fact, I was rather honored that someone would consider me worth looking at.  What did bother me just a little was that he had not responded to my attempts at communication.  But I had not slept the night before due to work so I was a little bit grumpy.  This aspect I would regret.

I discreetly moved closer to take a better look at this individual.  He was wearing a dark blue pull over type jersey with medium green slacks and brown shoes.  His face was winkled and his hair black and long.  His arms, though, were smooth and I noticed that there was a rubber band around his right arm.  One of his hands was near his waist with his fingers loped about his belt and the other hand was in his pant's pocket.  Immediately, part of me wanted to walk over, rub his arms and either remove that rubber band from around his wrist or rub it between my fingers and the soft skin of his exposed arm.  I also felt the compulsion to run my hand under the part of his arm still covered by the long sleeve T-shirt.

As a side note, I wonder if there is a correlation between rubber bands and gay men?  Is wearing a rubberband on one's wrist some kind of cue to others that the wearer is queer?  I've always wondered thus.

Just as I was about to speak to this man by bus arrived and it was necessary for me to go to work.  So, I walked directly towards the man with a firm look on my face.  Finally, he met my eye but as I moved closer, he bowed his head and I passed him and boarded the bus.

Looking back I know now that I could have handled that much better than I did.  Perhaps, I misinterpreted his signals or simply did not see his or hear his responses to me.  After all, we were on a busy noisy street.  I also should not have given him the hard look I did just before getting onto the city bus because (1) it might have been hurtful to him and (2) it could have led to a confrontation which nobody likes.

Still, he had great arms and I really liked the sight of them partly exposed from the sleeves of his pull over long sleeved t-shirt jersey.  It would have given me great pleasure to have been able to gently stroke and rub his smooth warm (or cool) arms, to have rubbed my face against the skin or run my fingers up under the part of the arm still covered by his sleeves.  Pulling the sleeves down and pulling them back up would not have been bad either. :-)   Ironically, though, assuming he was given me the eye and was gay more likely he was interested in an anonymous sexual encounter and not arm play.  Maybe, it was good in the long run that we did not get to talk for it might have been a waste of his time and effort for I don't cruise for anonymous sexual intercourse.  Had he been willing to get to know me as a person, though, I would have gladly brought him lunch with nothing expected in return.  And if he had been willing to let me play with his arms I might have been willing to indulge him in one of his fetishes or do a favor for him (just not intercourse).  Oh well, maybe someday I can do this with an affectionate guy.