Nine Ways of Loving a Playboy
I.
When he answers your Craigslist ad—
send him the picture of yourself staring
out over the water. When he sends you
a picture of himself in football pants,
smile, say thank you, make plans to meet.
And when those plans,
fall through twice, meet him for
French Onion soup and popcorn.
Talk about work.
Look at his eyes, hidden beneath the
brim of a well-worn baseball cap.
When you caravan back to your place,
and he’s not behind you—forgive him.
It’s his first time.
II.
When he suggests a 4am wake-up call,
to spend the morning at his day job—
say yes, even though you will be
craving sleep the whole day long.
Listen to his voice, what he
says and doesn’t. Let him show
you his scars—the places he’s been.
When he says he is a Christian, nod
because who we are and who we
want to be do not always sit easy
on our shoulders.
III.
When he asks you what he would be,
as though you are,
a zoo keeper, and he—
the new attraction, tell him that
labels are for pickle jars, touch his
knee and laugh.
After you have touched each other
for the first time, nervous, uncertain, send
him an email. Heteroflexible.
Straight, but sometimes shit happens.
IV.
When he asks you to turn off the lights,
do it. Not because you are ashamed
of your body, or his.
But because his eyes
don’t see you and his
trembling hands hold fear from
places with names that twist the tongue.
V.
Learn his body.
Because when he is gone, your
finger tips will remember
the planes of him.
VI.
When you find that his birthday
is Christmas day, and he has
never spoken of his family,
in the stolen hours you’ve spent
together. Find his favorite
beer and sneak it into
the back of his car, beside a copy
of the Constitution and a Dunkin
Doughnuts gift card.
Smile to yourself when he says
thank you for the first time.
VII.
Let him lay on your bed, face down.
Reach beneath his shirt and trace
spirals against his skin.
Wait for the sharp intake
of best-touched places.
When he says he is a Playboy, and
tells you about his French-Model Girlfriend,
do not get jealous. Instead, trace his skin
more softly. Find your stillness.
When he says that you are safe,
be still.
VIII.
When you have sex—real sex
for the first time,
tell him to slow down. Ask
if he’s ever been fucked by
a baseball bat before.
Bite the pillow. When he
says no, tell him he has
thirty seconds to finish. And
when it’s over, tell him he should
have gone a little longer.
Smile.
IX.
When your co-workers
find out, tell him. When
your friend spreads the rumors,
let your friends go.
When he tells you, you’re
Professional, remember
your fingertips on his skin
in the dark.
—Ryan Patrick Gannon
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Ryan Patrick Gannon is an Irish-American poet living in the White Mountains of New Hampshire. His work has previously appeared in Assaracus.