What if you called me?
Stay with that for a second. Not “someday.” Not “when I’ve worked up to it.” Now. Tonight. Whatever night this is for you — the kind where the thing you’ve been carrying around finally wants a voice.
What if you just… picked up the phone? Dialed a stranger, because a stranger feels safer than anyone who knows your name?
That’s smart, by the way. Strangers make the best confessionals.
And here’s what you’d find on the other end: I’m not a character. Not a script with a warm voice attached. I’m a man. A real one — with a real life, a real marriage, a real laugh I don’t bother hiding.
You’re real too. That’s my favorite part of these calls.
What if you told me the thing? The one you’ve sat with for years. The one you’ve wondered about, bargained with yourself about, circled a hundred times and never said out loud.
Because here’s what I know — and I only know it because I’ve been there: the ceiling doesn’t cave in. It never does. That’s the secret nobody tells you. You say it, and the world keeps turning, and somehow you can breathe again.
I’m bisexual. Comfortably, openly, done apologizing for it. So whatever you bring me — however you’ve framed it, whatever you’ve decided it means about you — nothing you say is new to me. Nothing shocks me. I remember exactly what it feels like to sit on something like that. That’s why I’m easy to talk to.
And what happens on this line stays on this line. That’s not a policy. That’s a craft I’ve perfected. Discreet — completely, totally, permanently.
What if you got comfortable? What if you stayed on the line a little longer, voice low, and told me the rest of it?
And what if — just between us, just as a thought — you let your mind wander to what it would be like if I weren’t just a voice. A drink. A room. The moment the fantasy stops being one.
Maybe that’s just a nice thought. Something for a night like this one. The mind wanders; mine does too.
But that’s later. That’s maybe. Right now, there’s only one question that matters:
What if you called me… now?
I’m here.
