(disclaimer: This entry has gay drama in it. I am in no way, shape or form responsible for you deciding to read all of its gay ridiculous-ness... or how very long it is. Read at your own risk)
"Vodka and pineapple, please."
"Coming up... oh, single or double?"
"Hmmm," I said, scanning the dance floor packed with boy-crazy fags. "Better make it a double. I'm running low."
"I hear you," the bartender (dressed in a ridiculous Halloween costume) agreed.
'What the hell am I doing here?' I wondered, playing with a napkin someone left on the counter. 'I don't belong here. They're all crazy, and drunk.... I'm never going to find a husband by May.'
My thoughts traveled back to my call from my parents earlier, concerning my grandfather's great escape. I knew what he felt like. Right then, I was pretty sure I wanted to escape as well. Whorelando just doesn't have the right guys for me. I glanced across the bar, at a creepy darker man staring intently at me. I smiled politely (as I do), and turned away a bit, refocusing on the napkin.
It was then that an arm came around me, and pulled me back against a body. Another muscular arm came around me, and grabbed ahold of one of four shots that was poured a minute earlier, sitting about a foot from my elbow. The hand brought the shot glass up to my mouth, and a voice whispered against my ear... "Drink."
Now.... some boys might be nervous about taking drinks from strangers. Not I.
I tipped my head back, mouth open, and let the shot pour down my throat.
I turned to find out who my new friend was.
Oh holy god.
Before me stood a beautiful specimen of a man.... a man Shelley and I had been admiring about 5 hours earlier when we'd come in for happy hour.
"Hey!" I said smiling. I glanced around, noticing how many jealous queens were staring at me and him now.
"Hi, baby," he grinned.
"You're that dancer," I said. "That guy from earlier. You were teaching those people some moves that they were supposed to perform tonight over at the stage, right?"
"Where's your girlfriend at?"
"Oh... my girlfriend? Oh.. that's Shelley. She's not my girlfriend."
He smiled wider.
"I didn't know you'd seen us," I admitted.
"Well, I did. And I was so interested in finding out who this little cutey is, I even talked to the bartender to find out more about he," he told me. "He said he thought you two were planning on coming back for the show."
"We were."
"I didn't see you in the audience."
"Well... we planned to come back. But then her and her boyfriend were tired so I came out husb- I mean... I came out for a drink or two by myself." (Grr.... that was close.... rule one of husband-hunting- one must never know you are actually hunting him for a husband!!!)
"Well aren't.... I.... lucky?" he sneered, moving closer to me.
An hour and a half later, I was driving to this dancer's house to hang out with him there. He seemed all right to me... maybe a little full of himself. But he had a nice smile, and a good body, and he showed good judgement by picking me! Ta da!
However, I got lost (as I do) and called him.
His phone rang and rang.
He didn't pick up.
I called again.
Still no pick-up.
I sat the phone down, and pulled over. I didn't know if I was really going in the right direction. Now why would he shut his phone in his car off??????
My phone rang, and it was him.
"Sorry," he said. "I was talking to my ex."
"Oh."
"What were you calling for?"
"I forgot your directions."
About five minutes later, I pulled into his apartment complex, and called him.
"Hey," I said. "I just need to know what building is-"
"Hold on," he interrupted. "My ex is calling. Call you right back."
He hung up.
I parked my car, and sat in it for a while. "Now what the hell?" I asked myself. "Who does that? Who would rather talk to their ex than the boy that's there right now?"
I sat for a few minutes, and then decided to go home. As I was starting my car, the phone rang.
It was Nelson Rader.
"Nelson?" I answered (a little angry, considering he never called me the night before, after Shelley and John and I had even went in to see him at work).
"Um, hey," Nelson said coyly (I'm guessing he knew that he really fucked up). "I was wondering if you were still out tonight. You could come over and hang out."
"Well, I'd have to- oh, hold on!" my phone beeped, and on the caller id came up the dancer's name.
Ohhhhh... decision.
Go to Nelson's (who stood me up again last night), or stay here at dancer's (who keeps rather talking to ex-boyfriend than me)?????
After careful consideration, I realized that I've given Nelson a few chances. The new dancer? None.
"Nelson," I said firmly. "I cannot come over. I'll call you tomorrow (that actually wouldn't happen, due to the car accident Shelley, John, and I got into the next day)." And with that, I dismissed Nelson. Fuck him. Fuck stupid Nelson. Nelson didn't call me last night, so fuck stupid fucking Nelson. And with that, my decision was made.
So after an hour at the dancer's house, I was sure I'd done the right thing. As we lay next to each other, I smiled out the window, knowing that perhaps this time I'd gotten it right. I congratulated myself on taking chances, on not relying on Nelson to always be there to pick up the pieces when another guy starts to go wrong. Yes, I must be learning. I must be growing as a gay man. I'm obviously expanding myself, and taking enough chances so that soon I will be husband material, and I will find a good-
"Matty?" he interrupted my thoughts.
I turned to him. "Yes?"
"I'm not looking for a relationship."
I admired his honesty. "O.K." I shrugged.
"That's because... um..... when I was talking to my ex-boyfriend on the phone....we got back together."
HMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM??????
I stared at him. He got back together with his ex-boyfriend, and then still had me in? Ummmmmmmmm......
"O.K." I managed to say.
"And uh... um.... I'd appreciate it if uh... if you see us out.... I'd really like it if you just sort of.... pretended this never happened."
At that moment, I felt a funny feeling. My eyes tightened. I could practically feel them darken. Merry Mel calls them "Manson eyes." I glowered at him. I began laughing.
He stared at me laughing, in bewilderment.
"Listen," I said. "I don't think... that I will have any problem.... forgetting... about.... you." My voice was threatening as I ended my sentence. I continued to smile at him.
And with that...... (let's call him Cheating Chad) Chad's face dropped, as if he'd been slapped.
I got up out of bed.
"Matty?" he said. "Um.... where are you going?"
I was picking up my clothes, ignoring him, still laughing. "I'm going to my friends' place."
"You're leaving?"
"Yes."
"Well, uh... you could stay."
"Naaa."
He stared at me... as if to suddenly realize that he perhaps was not God's gift to gays.... and that perhaps there was a boy strong enough not to care if he was rejected.
"I mean... really, you can stay here."
"But I don't want to," I explained to him, shaking my head. "I want to go to my friends' house and visit them. They're fun, and tomorrow we'll eat breakfast and laugh a lot."
He continued to look at me... getting a little desperate.
"I hope I see you again," he said.
"Oh?"
"Yes."
By this time, I was dressed, and heading through the living room to the door.
"Did you get everything?"
"Yes."
"Matty," he said, passing me and putting his hand on the door. "Listen, I've really enjoyed you. And I hope I do see you again."
I stared into his eyes. It was amazing.... how quickly one can tumble when they realize they are not all that wanted.
"And I hope," I said honestly, "that everything works out well..... for your ex." I pulled open the door, and marched out.
As I drove away, he was still standing on his belcony staring at me.
The funny thing about people is the way they don't want something (or someone), unless they're told they can't have it. Before I told him that I'd have no problem getting over him, he was acting as if I should be thankful I'm with him. But after I so simply expressed my indifference.... he had a whole new attitude, one that really wanted to keep me there, and later see me.
People always want what they cannot have.
Of course.... I also know this feeling all too well.
I felt it as I called up Nelson, and the phone rang and rang. He never picked up.
