Large Naked Man in My Bed

Don’t be alarmed  by the title, readers.  What I have to tell you is more annoying than sexual.  I awoke yesterday morning to find a large naked man in my bed.  No, I’m not a homophobe, far from it.  My two dads adopted me as a baby, only weeks after their heroic stand at the Stonewall riot of 1969.  You must admit, though, that I had darn good cause for being surprised and distraught.  Even a gay guy would be taken aback by a stranger appearing in his bed, whether he was naked and good-looking (as this fellow definitely was) or not.  After the initial shock of finding this unshaven dude in my bed, I was struck by the fact that he was (1) a male and (2) had a large frame and muscular physique.  (For this reason, dear reader, I entitled this piece the way I did.)

“What?”  He has the nerve to ask me?

“What do you mean what?  Who the hell are you and what are you…”

“…doing in your bed?”

“Yes!  Yes!  What the fuck, dude?”

“I’m not dangerous.”

“What?”

“You have nothing to worry about.  Just calm down.”

“I am calm!  Now listen…”

“I don’t think you are.  You’re overreacting…”

“What the hell is going on here?  Is this a dream?”

The naked man smiled and, strangely, a new universe seemed to open up.

I never got the answer I was looking for, other than the guy’s name, Ted.  Anyway, I hope to learn more about Ted during our dinner engagement next week at Olive Garden.