Late to bed and early to rise, that is the story of my life in Amsterdam. I am fighting off a cold I caught coming into town in the rain, but I have been keeping it at bay for the most part. I get my stuff cleaned up before Marc gets up. He obviously slept apart from Fio last night. I slip my mattress under his bed without waking him. He sleeps like an angel, so sweet and handsome. He also sleeps naked I have learned. I have seen him get up and walk to the bathroom several times, his cock semi-erect as is often the case with young men. I go out to buy him flowers and when I return he is sitting bare-topped in his beach pants nursing a coffee.
20 years ago today - Day 106 I leave him to his coffee as he is not in a talkative mood. He is not a morning person, even though it is barely still morning. I take a last walk around the concentric canals that circle the downtown core, laid out somewhat like a flattened amphitheatre. I have learned to carry a map with me at all times as the shortest distance between two points is never a straight line and never as easy as following a U-shaped street if the destination is on the same street. 
When I return at 2, I get a call from Johannes who asks if I would come to his place for dinner. I am not sure why. He barely said goodbye to me last night. I hold off my confirmation because Marc and Fio have said they might go out for dinner with me tonight, as I have told them I might leave Amsterdam tomorrow. It is hard to get a commitment from Marc though, as he weighs other options. Eventually I feel I cannot ignore Johannes any longer. I call and accept his offer. I am not sure a friendship between us is possible, if it will last beyond tonight, but I want to give it a chance without any expectations. I feel quite in control of my emotions today, as I will soon leave Amsterdam behind. This is not a city where a traveler can easily make lasting connections. People here have seen to many travelers to take them seriously. I arrange to meet Marc and Fio for a drink after dinner instead.
I take my bike to Johannes' home, as it is a long walk otherwise. He has made a simple dinner. After we've eaten, he plays recorded tapes of his music. His compositions are varied, but consistently more playful and intellectual than emotional. His jazz guitar is accompanied by a female Blues singer. The music is interesting but the recordings are rough cuts and uneven.
It is clear he has no further sexual interest in me. I have lost my interest in him too over the past two days, which makes it easier to talk about our attraction to other men in general. I learn he has a strong preference for fucking younger men and boys and cannot get into making love to me now that he knows I am actually older than I look. I wish he hadn't told me this. This rigid way of categorizing others disgusts me. I now see him as a flake who is only interested in the usefulness of men he meets instead of their hearts and souls. I weather the remainder of my visit politely but somewhat reluctantly. He asks me to write him from points along my trip but I have no promises. On the way back to Marc's, I wonder why I feel the need to cling to friendships I have made in the past, either on this trip or ones I have left behind in Toronto. I will likely never see the people that I meet on this trip again and very few of the people I have considered friends for years in Toronto care enough about me or what is happening on my trip to write to me even though I have written to them. Why can't I let go as easily and carelessly as they do? It's an old question that has reared its ugly head many times in my life.
The drink with Marc and Fio ends up as tea at his place, though Fio has told Marc that he is tired and has gone home. I won’t likely see him before I leave town, but then he hasn’t made much effort to connect with me anyway. Marc has brought with him a girlfriend named Annette. The three of us chat until past midnight, the other two because they are night owls and me because my bed is in the same room. Marc goes to Fio's to spend the night when Annette leaves.
PHOTO 1: coffee shop on Rembrandt Square
PHOTO 2: what? another canal?
PHOTO 3: outdoor pissoir
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