Gay Granada
Oh yes ! Spanish men, amor brujo, passion and fire danced on a flamenco music. I like clichés and I’m still young enough to believe there are partly true. On a cold rainy day, men of Granada don’t look particularly hot and attractive. So I visited one sauna, just to make sure anything could happen. The sauna was an old and narrow place located in a posh area. No tourists in sight which is rather promising. But no magician of passion either. I was dreaming of kisses, of cuddling, of wispering songs in my ear and in my blood, I was now facing bully and hairy men, too fat and too grey to my taste. One starts touching me, but his only obsession is his chest and his nipples. No kiss, no fire, no mystery. Another one is at the sauna to observe. “Please, don’t touch me ! ” he keeps saying. Another man, quite young, quite attractive, invites me in a dark room but he stinks… like the beast of the Apocalypse does or cows in India. Eventually the young man at the counter stares at me. I no longer need to look for anybody else : he is the magician I was expecting; he has deep black hair and his eye is like a fierce fire that tortures me. Flames of the Inquisition ! I’m too frightened to even look at him. I could have told him : “estoy esperando a ti”. I am contented to grin at him and my dream whispers for a while…
