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Pink Point - Burning Sensation

by Eric Rozenboom in Columns & Opinions , 31 oktober 2009


To The Point - True stories from Pink Point, the gay and lesbian info kiosk at the Homomonument. See www.pinkpoint.org

Almost September already, and the summer season at Pink Point is almost over again. Although the weather wasn’t completely stable it was still a beautiful summer with a lengthy short pants season. Outside in the streets my jaw regularly drops as I spot all those nice legs walking past.


The narrow ones, the sturdy ones and of course the super nice muscular ones. Often a small strip of underwear above the sagging waistline and the trendy Birkensock sandals included. It’s lovely to watch them walk past and often welcome them inside the kiosk as well. Working as a Pink Point volunteer in beautiful weather has its perks. Sitting on the street with a cool soft drink I’m grading passers by like a member of the jury during figure skating.


During one of these days I’m at Pink Point chatting with my dear friend about our recent bar experiences when at one point we both fall silent. We’ve spotted him simultaneously, approaching on the bridge. Strawberry-blond, trim and tight, t-shirt, bag, a wonderfully short pair of pants and the perfect pair of legs to finish it off. “You’ll see,” my dear friend says, “that he’s coming to drop something off.” Indeed, he parks his bike right next to the kiosk. “I hope it’s not another poster, we really have no more room for it this month,” I say.

The blond Adonis steps inside and asks us if there’s anything happening in town tonight. My dear friend laughs and says: “Now that’s surprise, we didn’t see that one coming,” while I realize he really is much too young. Shame, I think to myself, but he’ll have to wait another ten years before I’ll find him interesting.

Besides, my mother always told me: “You’ll never spend much time at a very handsome table, and you’ll never be alone at it for long either,” so I let this piece of candy pass me by. Horned up we both eye him down as he steps out of the kiosk again and we think back at all the joys of youthfulness, feeling rather cheesy and moldy ourselves, all of a sudden.
A popular old Dutch song plays in my mind, about the beautiful summer being over again. “Time to get ready for autumn,” I say to my friend. “Yep,” he blurts out spontaneously, “enough of that burning sensation.”



 







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