Dr. McDreamy

I have a doctor’s appointment today. Just a routine checkup—nothing to worry about. I always enjoy seeing my doctor. He’s very kind and, frankly, very good-looking (hence part of the blog title). Since I still have vacation time to use before the end of May, I took this morning as sick leave and this afternoon as vacation. So: no work for me today.

Last night, I had another one of my steamy dreams.

Earlier in the evening, I’d been thinking about a vacation I’m planning in April. I know I’ll be going to several gay bars, and maybe—just maybe—I’ll finally get some relief for whatever these dreams are trying to tell me. The dream began with that trip… and then drifted back to my office.

Several years ago, when I was briefly on Grindr, I was messaged by a young man. As we chatted, I realized he was a student. Any sexual relationship with a student—even an online one—is grounds for immediate dismissal, so I told him why I was hesitant to continue the conversation. That’s when he calmly said he knew who I was because he used to be a student worker at the museum.

The restrooms are in the same entrance area as the reception desk where our student workers usually sit. He told me that every time I walked into the restroom, he fantasized about me fucking him in one of the stalls.

He never showed me his face, but he had a fantastic body—and an impressive dick. I didn’t believe him at first. I was heavier then, badly out of shape, and at least twenty years older than him. But he said I was his type. He liked older, larger men.

We even made plans for him to come to my apartment. He never showed, which was probably for the best.

Later, I realized who he was from the student workers we’d had. After standing me up, he returned to work at the museum and seemed more comfortable around me than before. I noticed him looking at me when he thought I wasn’t watching. We never spoke about Grindr, and I never let on that I knew who he was.

That May, he graduated, joined the Marines, and disappeared from my life.

Which brings me to the dream.

In the dream, it’s seven years later. He shows up at the museum and comes into my office. He asks if I remember him. I say of course I do. He asks if we can close the door.

Once it’s shut, he reminds me of that Grindr conversation—the student who used to fantasize about me. I tell him I remember. It’s not something you forget. He says he’s always regretted not coming to my apartment and that he’s sorry he stood me up. He’s nearly in tears.

I stand up and hug him. He melts into me and tells me how hard it was seeing me every day for the rest of that school year. Then he straightens himself and asks if he can take me to dinner that night. He’ll be in town for a few days.

We meet at his hotel at six and go to a nice Italian restaurant. The conversation is awkward at first, but then it flows. I ask about the Marines. About MMA. I knew he’d won a regional tournament when he was in college.

At the end of dinner, I try to pay, but he insists.

Back at his hotel, he invites me up. As soon as the door shuts behind us, he presses me against it and kisses me—hungry, urgent, like he’s been holding this in for years.

For once, I don’t wake up before the dream gets to the good part.

I give him exactly what he’s been wanting all these years.

And then something strange happens: I start to wake up, but the dream doesn’t stop. My body is in bed, but my mind is still there—still walking out of his hotel room, still feeling the echo of his hands on me, already imagining the next time I’ll see him.

I wake fully just as my dream-self is leaving his room, hard and flushed, caught in that half-awake haze where desire lingers even after the scene ends.

Eventually, things settle down and I drift back to sleep—though not before Isabella notices I’m awake around 2:30 a.m. She makes a halfhearted attempt to get me up for food, then decides my hip will do just fine and curls back up with me.

P.S. For anyone unfamiliar with the reference, “Dr. McDreamy” comes from Grey’s Anatomy, where it’s used as a nickname for a devastatingly handsome doctor… and if you’re going to have a hot doctor and a sex dream in the same post, you might as well commit to the bit.

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“The Lord is my strength and my shield; my heart trusts in him, and I am helped.”

—Psalm 28:7

Standing Firm in the Evil Day

“For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world…”

—Ephesians 6:12

When Paul wrote these words, he was not speaking metaphorically about vague personal problems. He was writing as a man deeply familiar with empire, law, and state power. Paul lived under Roman rule, a system that enforced order through military might, legal control, and rigid social hierarchies. Roman law determined whose bodies mattered, whose relationships were legitimate, and whose lives could be constrained—or erased—for the sake of stability.

Paul himself had been imprisoned, beaten, and placed under house arrest. His letters were often written under surveillance or confinement. When he spoke of “rulers,” “authorities,” and “powers,” his audience would have understood that he was referring to real governing structures—political, legal, and religious systems that claimed ultimate authority over people’s lives.

And yet Paul is careful. He does not encourage violent revolt. He does not call for vengeance. Instead, he reframes the struggle. The problem is not individual people, but systems shaped by fear, domination, and exclusion. These systems, Paul insists, are not aligned with God’s reign—even when they wrap themselves in moral or religious language.

That is why he urges believers to “take up the whole armor of God, so that you may be able to withstand on the evil day, and having done everything, to stand.” (Ephesians 6:13)

The armor Paul describes—truth, righteousness, faith, salvation—mirrors the equipment of Roman soldiers, but with a radical twist. This armor is not meant to harm others. It is meant to protect the vulnerable soul against a world that demands conformity at the cost of integrity.

For LGBTQ+ Christians, this history matters. Unjust laws today—those that restrict healthcare, criminalize identity, undermine families, or legitimize discrimination—function much like the systems Paul knew. They are often justified as “order,” “morality,” or “tradition,” but their real effect is harm. They tell certain people that their lives are suspect, their love illegitimate, and their presence a problem to be managed.

Paul’s words remind us that standing firm against such systems is not rebellion against God—it is fidelity to God.

Paul also knew that resistance cannot survive on anger alone. That is why he tells the Philippians:

“Whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is just… think about these things.”

—Philippians 4:8

In a world that constantly told early Christians they were dangerous, deviant, or disposable, Paul urged them to guard their inner lives. Fixing our minds on truth and justice is an act of spiritual resistance. It keeps oppressive systems from colonizing our hearts.

And finally, James offers wisdom born from a persecuted community as well:

“Humble yourselves before the Lord, and he will exalt you.”

—James 4:10

Humility here is not submission to injustice. It is a refusal to let power define worth. Early Christians had little social standing, no legal protection, and few allies. Their hope rested not in empire, but in God’s faithfulness to lift up those the world pushed down.

That hope continues to sustain LGBTQ+ Christians today.

• To stand firm is to say: we will not internalize lies about who we are.
  
• To resist unjust systems is to say: God’s justice is larger than human law.
  
• To take up the armor of God is to protect love, truth, and dignity—especially when they are under threat.

The call remains the same across centuries: 

• Stand.
  
• Not in hatred.
  
• Not in despair.

But in faith that the God who sees injustice also walks beside those who refuse to bow to it.

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Moment of Zen: Shopping

Some people love to shop. Some people hate to shop.

I mostly enjoy it—as long as the store isn’t too crowded.

And even if shopping isn’t your thing, there’s always the quiet pleasure of people-watching.

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Under the Covers

It is so cold this morning that I feel like I should have gone to bed last night wearing a sweater. When I sleep, I almost always wear a T-shirt and no pants because my legs get ridiculously hot at night. I’m generally a #5 on this chart—but from past comments, I’m guessing a fair number of you are solid #20s.

As I write this, it’s –6 degrees, with a projected high of 4. Thank goodness it’s my work-from-home day. The very first thing I did this morning—after feeding Isabella—was make a hot cup of tea and pull on sweatpants and a hoodie. I may overheat when I sleep, but the moment I get out of bed? I’m instantly frozen.

Winter really does keep us humble. 🥶🫖

* * * * * Red Alert * * * * * 

Possible spoiler ahead…

On a completely different note—has anyone else watched the latest episode of Star Trek: Starfleet Academy? It feels increasingly clear to me that Jay-Den is a gay Klingon. He’s played by Karim Diané, who is unmistakably gay, and the show has already teased that Jay-Den will have a romantic storyline at some point.

I originally assumed that would be Kyle from episode three, but after this week’s episode… I’m not so sure. The scene between Jay-Den and Darem felt very sexually charged. I genuinely thought they were about to kiss.

Was it just me, or did anyone else feel that spark too?

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The Broken Dawn

I’ve been reading The Broken Dawn, the first book in The Silver Throne series by Aurora Chatsworth—a gay historical romance set in a fictionalized, pre–World War II Sweden. The novel follows the forbidden love story between Prince Harald and Jakob Eliasberg, a scholarship cadet at a military academy. Their relationship unfolds against rigid class divisions, rising political tension, and the unmistakable shadow of an approaching war, all while the royal family actively opposes their bond.

And honestly? It’s been really good.

It checks a lot of my boxes. I love history. I love m/m romance. I love military history—though my heart will always belong more to World War I than World War II. Still, this novel hits that sweet spot where personal intimacy and looming catastrophe coexist, and I found it hard to put down last night. I eventually had to tell myself: You have to go to work tomorrow. You need sleep. And Isabella will absolutely wake you up earlier than you want her to. (She always does.)

This is Chatsworth’s first novel, and it appears to be self-published. There are a few editing issues—some phrases are definitely overused—but surprisingly few outright typos, especially compared to what you often see in self-published fiction. Overall, the story is engaging, emotionally grounded, and compulsively readable.

Aurora Chatsworth is a pen name, but her background adds an interesting layer to the book. She holds a B.A. in History, which becomes very apparent as you read. Before turning to fiction, she worked as a costume designer for circus, theater, and historical reenactment—then pivoted to law school, spent ten years practicing as an attorney, and later joined the U.S. Diplomatic Service in 2012. She has served overseas in the Caribbean, Europe, and the Middle East. That combination of historical training, visual detail, legal thinking, and diplomatic experience gives the novel a distinctive texture and perspective.

Book two in The Silver Throne series is due out in April, with book three scheduled for October. The Broken Dawn is her first novel under the Aurora Chatsworth name (she also writes on diplomatic policy under her real name), and I’m genuinely looking forward to seeing where the series goes next.

What makes The Broken Dawn especially resonant is how it situates a queer love story in the uneasy calm of prewar Europe—a moment when old hierarchies still held power, even as they were beginning to crack. Same-sex desire existed everywhere in this period, but it survived in secrecy, coded spaces, and stolen moments, particularly within institutions like the military that prized discipline, masculinity, and conformity. By placing Harald and Jakob’s relationship inside a rigid academy and a royal household obsessed with legacy, Chatsworth reminds us that queer history is not a modern invention—it has always unfolded alongside political anxiety, rising nationalism, and the ever-present threat of violence. Their love matters precisely because it exists in the shadows of what we know is coming.

But alas—I’m almost finished with The Broken Dawn, and I won’t have another installment waiting for me for several months. The familiar reader’s melancholy is setting in already.

Thank you Susan for suggesting The Broken Dawn.

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