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Not on My Bucket List

When Sam goes on a gay website looking for romance, he finds more than he bargained for. Rejecting all the usual requests for hook-ups, he searches for something more sincere. And he finds it in the most unexpected of places, as he is drawn to the profile of a man in a faraway place.<br><br>Amir, an Algerian descended from desert nomads, has posted a profile looking for the love of his life. Sam finds it amazing that a gay man born in the Algerian desert has the bravery to not only declare he is gay, but also to admit his dream is to find a husband to spend his life with.<br><br>While Sam doesn’t consider himself the marrying kind, he starts chatting with Amir, telling himself he just wants to learn about another culture. His friends laugh at him, saying this man just wants to use him to emigrate to the west and take him for his money. But he refuses to believe it, sensing a sincerity he has never seen with anyone else. The two begin a dialogue that moves to weekly Skype sessions, discussions of religion and world politics, assistance with life challenges and, finally, a declaration of love ... and an invitation.<br><br>Can these two men from vastly different worlds and cultures meet and find common ground for a romance? The challenges are great, and spending a life together seems like an impossible dream. While Sam’s friends continue to discourage him, he knows he cannot give up this man. Is Amir sincere, or is Sam being used?<br><br>There is only one way to find out if Amir is really sincere. And Sam knows what he has to do.

Tom Monroe · LGBT+
Not enough ratings
55 Chs

Chapter 47

The boys followed him again, once more placing the hat on his head. He stopped, smiled, gave them some money, and walked away. The stunned look on the face of the boys told me most of what I wanted to know.

“So how much did they want for the hat?” I asked when the boys were out of earshot.

“One hundred dirhans,” he said. Ten dollars.

“And you paid…?”

“Thirty-five,” he said matter-of-factly.

I couldn’t contain myself. “So that’s why they looked so shocked,” I said, once I had stopped laughing. “But tell me, why did you kiss the one boy on only the left side?”

“To tell him that we are not close.”

“You mean that you wanted him to go away.”

“Yes.”

“Well, in America we would just tell someone like that to kiss off. Maybe that’s where the expression came from.” Amir looked at me quizzically. “More American slang. I’ll explain it to you some time.”