by Harper, Lou
“Don’t be so smug about it. He’s smart and funny, and a good lay. It’s what you wanted to hear, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, pretty much.” I grinned, and felt undeniably smug.
“So how did it go with Bryan?”
“Very well, as a matter of fact. I left him smiling. My ass is sore, though; he’s a big boy.”
“Hey, TMI!”
“You asked.”
“So, are you and Bryan dating now?”
“What? Why would we?”
“I dunno—because you’re the first guy he ever had sex with? People get emotional about this stuff. Just look at Bill. He got all stuck on you and he’s not even gay.”
“Oh shit. I didn’t even think of the possibility. Do you think he’ll want to go steady?”
“It’s possible.”
I groaned.
She pressed on. “Why? What’s wrong with Bryan? You’ve been pursuing him since last semester and after you got him in the sack, you’re ready to drop him? Aren’t you a bit heartless?”
“He’s a nice guy, but he’s way too serious for me. Plus, my ass can’t take that kind of pounding on a regular basis. I’d rather be just friends.”
“TMI!”
***
Maybe Bryan left for spring break, too, because the whole following week I neither heard from him nor saw him. What a relief. Jo and I stayed put. She said it gave her a chance to paint undisturbed, and I liked having the deserted campus almost all to myself. On the downside, I was suddenly dateless. I caught a glimpse of Bill and Claire walking down on Magnolia Boulevard once. They were holding hands and making goo-goo eyes at each other. The sweetness of it made my teeth ache.
I stalked around the English department, but only ran into the janitor. Stopping by the Fox Hole I learned Jay had quit. I ended up spending most of the week reading and watching the National Geographic channel.
Bryan ambushed me on the first day after the break. I was sitting on a stone bench at the edge of the quad, eyes closed, absorbing the sun, inattentive to my surroundings. Like a fatally absentminded Thomson’s gazelle on the Serengeti, unaware of the danger approaching.
“Hi, Jamie,” said the cheetah…I mean Bryan.
I managed not to jump in the air like a gazelle.
I gave him a wide, if fraudulent smile. “Yo, Bryan, how’s it going?”
“Good,” he said, looking all serious. “Listen about last week…”
Oh darn, here it came. I braced myself and furiously composed the speech in my head to let him down gently. For the moment, I let him talk.
“I want you to know I appreciate what you did. It took me a while to figure it out; I didn’t really catch on till Marcus warned me about you.”
“Warned you about me?” I sputtered.
“He said you made guys turn gay.” There was a new, playful twinkle in Bryan’s eyes as he said it.
Oh, my rep as the corruptor of hetero boys. Great. Wait a minute, something didn’t add up. “He told you that before or after the party?”
“Before.”
“And you let me walk you home anyway?”
“I wasn’t as oblivious as you think. Or drunk.” His expression turned serious again. “It’s hard when there are a lot of expectations on you, and there’s this image—the way everyone else sees you—and it becomes a mask. You know what I mean?”
I didn’t from personal experience, but I could imagine it well enough, so I nodded.
“You helped me to face it at last. I told my parents I was gay.”
“How did they take it?”
He made a fleeting grimace. “They’re adjusting. It’ll take them a while, but it wasn’t as bad as I feared.”
“That’s good. I’m glad,” I said awkwardly.
There was no way I could dump him after such heart-to-heart. Not before summer break at least. I felt ashamed, even as my ass clenched.
Bryan wasn’t done yet. “I also talked to Jeremy.”
“Who?”
“We were best friends in high school, but there was always something more between us. Now we could finally talk it through. He’s going to Berkeley and I’m going to transfer over next fall so we can be together.”
Plunk! That was the sound of my preconceptions collapsing into a dusty heap. I blabbered my bewildered congratulations, relieved when he left at last. I knew I should’ve been thankful for getting off the hook so easy, but instead I felt a vague annoyance. I knew it was spring, birds, bees, etc., but this was getting ridiculous. Had the whole world gone mad?
I was going to ask Jo the same question that night, but I found her sucking face with Wayne on the sofa.
“Oh c’mon, get a room.” I huffed and marched into mine.
***
As part of academic life, the various departments bring in guests to give presentations or lectures. By rule, the entire faculty and most of the students from the host department show up. However, I would’ve gone to the talk given by Cornel Whitlock even if it wasn’t expected of me.
Cornel Whitlock had authored of several novels and a slender volume of erotic poetry. I came across the latter by accident, while browsing in the local used bookstore. I enjoyed it so much for a few minutes I considered switching teams. I jest. I could enjoy hetero erotica just fine, especially when it exhibited such playful naughtiness as Whitlock’s. I wanted to meet the man.
Whitlock didn’t disappoint. He was a short, wiry man with a few wisps of hair clinging to his perfectly round skull. He made up for his lack of locks with a salt-and-pepper goatee. With his curved nose and eyes crinkling in a roguish fashion, he reminded me of an aging satyr. All was missing were a pair of horns. I had no problem picturing him with furry legs and hooves behind the podium. Needless to say, I liked him right off. He gave a light-hearted and funny talk, jumping from topic to topic, yet in the end it made a full circle, and in hindsight proved more profound than it first seemed. He concluded by reading an excerpt from his upcoming novel.
The ensuing reception gave student and faculty a chance to mingle in an informal setting. As could be expected, a crowd three-men-deep surrounded Whitlock. I didn’t even try to fight my way through. Instead, I located the good Professor Charles Woodford in a mixed group across the room and headed that way.
I was halfway there when I noticed the other man standing next to my favorite professor. My stomach clenched in an instant, and I stopped dead in my tracks.
The written word is a crude approximation of the human experience and the world around us. The body speaks a language entirely its own. The subtlest twitch, a fleeting look can speak volumes. Professor Woodford and the stranger didn’t make any overt display of belonging together, yet I had no doubt they did. They stood about two-and-a-half inches too close to be simply friends or colleagues. The casual looks they exchanged lingered seconds too long and brimmed with years worth of intimacy. Hell, they even looked alike, as so many longtime gay couples did. I was about to retreat with my tail between my legs when Prof Woodford spotted me and waved me over. I had no choice but join them and put up a good front.
His eyes smiled at me with their usual joviality, and I smiled back the best I could.
During the round of introductions I learned the stranger’s name was Peter Walsh. Professor W. presented Walsh as his “partner,” eliminating possible doubts, not that I had any.
“Peter, it’s the young lad I told you about. Jamie writes the most delightfully original papers. You wouldn’t believe he’s only an undergraduate.”
“It’s wonderful to meet you,” he said with a slight Boston accent. Phew. If he was Brit, I might have spontaneously combusted.
“I’m sure Professor Woodford exaggerates.”
“Not at all. Charley showed me the one about samovars. It had me in stitches.”
“A rare humorous look at classic Russian literature,” Professor Woodford agreed.
I’d never considered that he’d show my papers to someone else, but then he was neither a prie
st nor a doctor. And neither were my homework essays confidential. He surprised me though.
“The Russians are a dreary lot, don’t you think? I thought they could use a little humor.”
The prof nodded. “Very true. Next autumn, I’ll be teaching British Literature through the Twentieth Century. Perhaps you could connect the fall of the Empire to tea drinking.”
“Sounds like a fine challenge,” I agreed.
With a smile, Walsh joined the conversation. “I understand your sister is a gifted artist. Talent must run in the family.”
“First cousin. Although, we practically grew up together.”
The way they were observing me I knew they must’ve seen the painting. There weren’t coming onto me or leering, but they had a knowing cast in their eyes, as if they could see through my clothes. While we chatted politely about art, literature, and tea, I briefly entertained the idea of being the filling in a Woodford-Walsh sandwich, but the fantasy refused to take flight. It simply wasn’t sexy; Charles and Peter were two middle-aged guys with thinning hair and obvious affection for each other. They were cute, cozy, and cuddly, but not sexy. I didn’t know if I was cured of my Anglophilia, but Professor Woodford was certainly safe from my future advances.
After some more small talk, I politely extricated myself and headed for the exit. As I was leaving, I felt a sense of lightness. I’d had no idea how much my fixation on Professor Woodford had been weighing me down. However, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of melancholy as well. It seemed like everyone around me was pairing up, and here I was on a Friday night without a date. Bummer.
I was cutting through the quad when I heard the hurried footsteps behind me. I turned to looked and noticed a familiar face—another student I’d seen around, although couldn’t remember his name.
He remembered mine. “Hi, Jamie!” He caught up, flushed from exertion.
“Hi…”
“John. I saw you at the reception. Are you going back to U-town? I live there, too.”
“Yeah, I’m headed home.”
He fell in step next to me, and we walked in an awkward silence. He annoyed me, crowding in on me uninvited, so I made no effort at small talk. He had the constipated appearance of someone trying to say something, but not knowing where to start. I figured he’d either work it out in the time it took us to walk across campus or not.
Clearly, I was off my game because when he grabbed me and pulled me close, almost tripping us in the process, it took me by complete surprise.
“What the hell?” I cried out.
“My roommate is out all night, staying with his girlfriend. Come over?” he said in place of explanation.
Clumsy, but without question a pick up. Strange because the guy didn’t even ping my gaydar. A test was in order. I took John’s head between my palms and kissed him with my customary thoroughness. He didn’t resist, but didn’t quite respond in kind either. His body stayed fairly rigid.
“Have you ever been with a guy?”
“No.”
“Are you even a little gay?”
He shrugged.
“Why did you even come on to me? Are you playing gay chicken with your friends?”
I looked around to see if maybe he had his buddies following us, but aside from a couple of girls leaving the library off in the distance, I saw nobody around.
“No! Nothing like that. I just thought…I dunno…”
“You were curious?”
“Yeah…I mean, my cousin is like totally straight, but he did it with a guy at Berkeley and he said…” The way he trailed off I knew I’d never find out what John’s cousin had said.
“So you thought you’d find out what the fuss is about, since this is college and it’s no big deal, everyone experiments, right?”
I kept my surface cool and composed, but was bristling underneath. Probably because I’d never expected my own words to come back and bite me in the ass.
John made another half-shrug. “Yeah, sure.”
“Why did you come to me?”
“Oh, it’s simple. Everyone knows you’ve been with a lot of guys, some of them straight, and none of them ever complained. I mean, you’re supposed to be good, right?”
And there it was, again. “You’re saying I’ve got a reputation?”
“I guess.”
John wasn’t bad looking; I could’ve made sure we both had some fun. I conjured up the image of him naked and sweaty, moaning softly as I fucked him, but there was no reaction from down bellow, not even a stir. My heart was off in a corner sulking, and it had taken my libido with it. Well, that was that.
“Sorry, bud, I’m closed for business. You can tell that to the rumor mill. Have a good night,” I said and left him there.
***
Jo sprawled on the couch, watching TV when I got back to the apartment. I pushed her feet aside and flumped down. Jo turned off the television and stared at me for a second.
“What?” she asked at last.
“What do you mean what?”
“Something is bothering you. Out with it.”
“Okay. I’ve fallen out of sorts.”
“Out of sorts how?”
“Well, a guy propositioned me tonight, and I turned him down. There was nothing wrong with him, and normally I’d have been happy to oblige, but I just wasn’t in the mood.”
Jo muted the TV and pulled herself up into a sitting position. She studied me with a disconcerting focus in her eyes. “Did something happen at the lecture?”
I shrugged in feigned nonchalance. “Professor Woodford has a partner. From the look of it, they’ve been together for some time.”
“I’m sorry, hun.” At that moment, she sounded unnervingly like my mom. “Maybe it’s for the best. Getting mixed up with the teachers is bad idea.”
“It’s not that. In truth, I’m over him. It was only an infatuation.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
“I don’t even know. The thing is, you, Professor Woodford, and Bill are all with somebody, and even Bryan has a boyfriend after being out for the whole of two weeks. I feel like I’m in one of those Shakespeare comedies where everyone is paired up by the end, except the poor donkey.”
“What about Jay? I know you said he’s not your type, but he seemed like a nice guy.”
“He found himself a sugar daddy.”
“Oh.”
“I’m sure it’ll pass, but I feel like a square peg in an exclusive club for round holes.”
“Well, you know, you’ve been like that fairy tale princess—one’s too big, another’s too twink, the third’s too straight. No wonder you can’t settle down.”
“Did you just call me a princess?”
“In an affectionate way.”
“Maybe the universe is sending me a message—I’ve been screwing around too much. Well, no more sex for me!”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“No. I’m dead serious. No cock will pass these lips till at least the end of the semester. Maybe longer.”
“Riiiight.”
“You’ll see!”
Jo didn’t retort verbally, but the pursing of her lips and her eye-roll spoke loudly enough. Her body language was the equivalent of a billboard. I pretended not to see it.
“Let’s watch a movie. I’ll make popcorn,” I said.
Jo cleared her throat. Who knew it could sound guilty? Because it did.
“What?”
“Wayne and I are going out to the movies. Why don’t you come with us?
The true horror of my situation dawned on me. “And be a third wheel? No way! I’m not so pathetic yet.”
“You sure?”
“Yes! Go. Have fun. Shoo!”
I spent the night with Daniel. Craig, that is. I liked this new Bond. Originally, I had expected someone suave like Clive Owen take up the role. By comparison, Daniel was all rough edges, downright brutish, and so hot. He also knew how to fill out a pair of swim briefs. I hoped he’d make more Bond
movies after Casino Royale. It became evident only a few minutes into the movie that I’d not been rendered immune to British accents.
Later, lying in my lonely bed, I recreated the movie, slightly altered. In my version, there were no chicks and far less foreplay. Come to think of it, there wasn’t much plot either.
Chapter Nine
Jo made daily fun of my “vow of chastity,” as she called it, but I stuck to my guns. It wasn’t even that hard. Well, I was—I had to wank off every morning in the shower, but I kept my fantasies strictly on unattainable men like Ewan and Daniel. After a couple of weeks of this, Jo started giving me worried looks. One night I caught her staring at me over a pile of schoolbooks. I was siting on the couch, trying to write a paper on my laptop. She sat on the floor, wedged between the chair and the coffee table, working on a trigonometry problem. She didn’t like science classes any more than I did, but there was a minimum credit requirement we all had to fulfill.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” she asked.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“It’s not normal for you to be so disinterested in sex.”
“I’m not disinterested.”
“Then what is it?”
“I think I’m going through a quarter-life crisis.”
“Well, at least you’re planning on a long life. Aren’t you making too big a deal out of it, though?”
“There are turning points in one’s life, you know. Like when I first realized what that funny thing I felt about other boys really meant. It changed everything.”
“And that’s how you feel now?”
I thought about it for a moment. “No, I think it’s exactly the opposite.”
Back then, I went from confusion to clarity. Now I was back to not knowing what I wanted, only that it was something different.
“Are you trying to tell me you’re switching teams?”
“Hell, no!” I protested in horror.
“So how come you never simply date someone?”
“I dunno.”
“But you’re not against it on principle?”
“No, not as such.”
Jo looked at me, blinked twice, and asked a very personal question. “Have you ever been in love?”