by Kage Alan
"I feel like I'm having a conversation with myself here.” That wasn't too far from the truth.
"Maybe that's a good thing.” He spoke softly, and looked at me with knowing eyes. Exactly what it was they knew was beyond me, but something was going through that mind of his I wasn't privy to. It was just a little unnerving.
"Maybe you've needed to have this conversation with yourself for a long time. I know a lot of people who have."
Jordan suddenly tried to sound reassuring.
"What?” I hoped that response wasn't about to become habitual, since it was the second time I'd spoken it. What, exactly, was going on here? Jordan knew what conversations people had to have? What in the hell did he mean by that? For that matter, what good was it doing asking myself what he meant? “What do you mean by that?” Well, it was a start. “Not that I'm gay, I hope, ‘cause I'm not. I like women."
It wasn't exactly a lie. I did like women. I just hadn't found the one I wanted to engage in nocturnal mating rituals with.
"Do you?” He spoke the words evenly and without giving away whatever it was he was thinking. It was hardly fair.
"Very much so.” I needed to convince him of this. My situation of never having been with a woman sexually might open up doors of conversation and thought I wasn't ready to defend myself in. I didn't have any real experiences to draw from, but I certainly had a number of other people's. “I'm into the whole ... trapeze bar-from-the-ceiling thing."
It was the only thing I could think of. All the things my roommate Todd used to tell me about, and I couldn't remember a single one of them.
"I've hosted a number of orgies. I like women. I love that...” I knew I would blush if I said the word. “...area between their legs, especially when they shave it.” Finally, I'd said something I remembered from Todd. “Sometimes, I have a couple of them every night."
"Wow!” Jordan paused and seemed to consider what I'd said. “I'm impressed."
It was difficult to tell if he was being sincere or not. I don't know why, but I had the distinct impression he wasn't exactly believing everything I told him. Was it the way I was saying it, or was it what I was saying?
"I hope you get tested."
"Tested?"
What the hell kind of shit was this? Is that what gay guys did? Test each other during sex? What did two guys do in bed that required testing, anyway? Did they have scorecards and markers next to the bed and rate every performance?
"You mean have them grade me?"
He couldn't seriously expect me to believe that straight couples did the same thing. Oh, Christ, what if they did? Had some part of me always known I would be graded? Maybe the real pros didn't need grading, but I was hardly a pro. I didn't even think I rated as an amateur.
"Give me a break! I go to school. Those are all the tests I can handle."
"No.” Jordan chuckled. “I mean testing as in for sexually transmitted diseases. Since you're with so many women, I assume you want to remain safe."
"Oh, that. Well, yeah!” Maybe I did have some hang-ups I needed to get rid of. Maybe I needed to take another health class while I was at it, too, and catch up on everything I didn't seem to know.
Just exactly how did one get tested to know if they were safe or not? I'd never had to worry about it, so I never really paid much attention. Ignorance wasn't an excuse. I suppose if it fell off, I'd know I had a problem.
I really needed that health class.
"Yeah, I'm into that whole testing thing. In fact, I get tested at least once a week for DV."
"DV?” he asked. “Are you nervous? Don't you mean VD?"
"Veterinarial disease ... whatever.” Why would he think I was nervous? I didn't think I was nervous so where did he get off thinking it? Damn it! I wasn't nervous! I just didn't have any clue what I was talking about, that's all.
Well, okay, maybe I was a little bit on edge. It wasn't every day I had a one-on-one talk with a homosexual, and an attractive one at that. I didn't know they came that way. At least now it made a little more sense why he was looking me over earlier.
Actually, no, it didn't. With the exception of the one girl in high school, I hadn't been able to get a girl to give me a first look, much less a second one; and I refused to believe that men were the only ones who found me attractive. What if they were, though? That could be a bad thing because I didn't think I was gay...
No, I knew I wasn't gay. I couldn't be.
"Look, that's not important here.” I looked him straight in the eye. “What I'm not trying to tell you is that I'm gay.” That didn't sound right. “No, what I'm trying to tell you is that I'm not gay—that's what I'm trying to tell you."
"I never said you were.” Jordan eyed me in what appeared to be mock sympathy. Again, I had the feeling he thought he knew something I didn't.
"And I like women,” I repeated.
"I never said you didn't.” He laughed.
"And trapeze bars.” He shouldn't forget that.
"That's a little strange, even for me.” He gave me another playful nudge on the arm, as if to say that things were understood and accepted between us. “Mostly I like to cuddle, hold hands, listen to music, share a gourmet dinner on the beach and watch the sunset with a bottle of fine wine..."
His voice trailed off, and I found myself actually enjoying the mood he was setting. There was nothing unusual about it at all. They were all the things I had always wanted with a partner, only never had. Most of the guys I knew would never admit to wanting to share those things with their girlfriends, so I found it ironic that I would be hearing it now from someone who was gay. With the guys from school, it was just sex, sex, sex. But here...
"...and,” Jordan continued, and I listened intently, hanging on his next few words and the place they would take me, “when the time is right, make hot, passionate love."
Nope, I definitely wasn't going to that place.
"I've never been able to get into this whole carefree sex thing, like trapeze bars and orgies. It's too seventies for a guy like me."
"Well.” I tried to sound like a typical male who was admitting something he shouldn't. “Let me tell you—sex is kinda overrated. All that strange stuff is fine and all, but it's not exactly what I would call fulfilling."
I wondered if typical men ever even used the word fulfilling, but Jordan nodded as if he understood what I was saying. Well, he would. I had absolutely no idea if sex was overrated or not, but I really did identify with all the things he said he wanted to share with a partner.
"Sometimes, I find myself just wanting to spend time with someone and talk about what's going on in life, about what's going on in their life and my own. I want to share my ideas about what I'm writing, what I want to write, maybe read a poem and have them give me some feedback. I want to hear about their day and, if it was good, share the happiness and, if it was bad, help cheer them up or share in their sorrow.” I looked up at him. “You know?"
"I know."
"I don't ever want to limit myself or settle."
There wasn't much space between the two of us, and I was suddenly grateful for that. What I was saying was personal, and I felt as if he was the one person who could understand me right now. Maybe it was because he didn't mind me talking or because he actually seemed interested in what I had to say, but I felt I could identify with him, and I didn't pretend to understand why. It was just a good feeling and I went with my instincts.
"Unfortunately, I sometimes set my standards so high that no one can ever live up to them, but I still won't settle."
"I don't ever want to settle, either,” he said in soft agreement.
"Then, too, maybe it's more than that for me. Sometimes, I feel like I'm one of those idiots who's so busy trying to conquer the world, but who creates so many other problems in the process that I end up losing myself in the struggle to keep myself out of trouble."
The grass suddenly seemed very appealing to look at, and I lowered my head to stare at it.
"T
hen, sometimes, I think the reason I do that is so I can lose myself. I've never really thought much of myself, and with the exception of my parents, no one else ever has, either. It's just something I've learned to live with instead of constantly feeling sorry for myself. I could end up a very lonely and bitter old man one day.” I looked back up and stared into his eyes. “Only that's not what I want.
"The more I try to lose myself, though, the faster I find myself running from everything and everyone. I don't want to miss out on friendships and romance with the right people, but I don't know how to slow down long enough to take a look around me."
"Maybe someone should slow you down.” Jordan leaned forward and kissed me. It was only a light brushing of the lips, but it was enough to substantiate its being called a kiss. Why did he do that?
"Why did you do that?"
Everything felt suddenly still, as if nothing else existed around us. I wondered if this moment was somehow being frozen in time, but to what end? Jordan, this man I just met and had opened up to, had kissed me. I had never romantically kissed a man in my life, even when I was experimenting with my friends so many years ago. Actually, I still hadn't kissed a man romantically. He kissed me, not vice-versa!
I didn't know how I felt about this, mostly because I think the spirits had gotten to me. The champagne was really making me sweat, and my entire body felt like it was on fire. Hell, my lips were tingling. This was some expensive stuff!
"Because I wanted to and you wanted me to."
"No, I didn't.” I backed away a little bit in case he thought about doing it again. No more alcohol for me! My body felt like it was melting right into the lounger, and my mind seemed to be reaching for some euphoric state I dared not escape to yet. “Why would you get the idea I wanted you to kiss me? I just got done telling you I liked women. So, why did you do it?"
"I told you, you wanted me to."
"I did not! I never said ‘Jordan, kiss me.’”
"Now you're just saying it verbally.” He moved towards me again, and I moved farther away.
"Don't do it again!” I fell backwards off the lounger. “Shit!” I quickly stood back up, however unsteadily. “It's bad enough you did it the first time."
He seemed to be enjoying the entire scenario.
"What? You think I enjoyed it?"
"Well...” He motioned with his head and eyes at my waist. “...you tell me."
"Huh?” I looked down and saw the problem. I'd been so preoccupied with the current events that I hadn't realized just how claustrophobic my pants had grown. “It's the champagne."
I just wanted to get away, mostly to cover up the fact I had an erection. Whatever was going on and whatever reactions I was having to the situation simply didn't feel right. I couldn't identify specifically what they were, but they made me very uncomfortable.
Why was he doing this to me?
"Look, uh, it's been nice talking to you, but I know there's a relative of mine here...” I started walking backwards. “...who I thought was dead but isn't.” I put my hand in my pocket to try and correct a rather protruding problem. “And I have to talk to her before she does die and before I leave in sex days ... six days."
Jordan looked after me, still amused.
"It's really a nasty thing, too, because she's extremely old and...” I backed up farther. “...her flesh is practically falling off her bones. Pretty soon, nobody'll be able to understand what she's talking about because her mouth will be hanging right where her breasts used to be."
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5
The rest of the party was a total disaster. The first thing I did after leaving Jordan and the side yard was to adjust myself and head over to where the food was and fix a plate. It was of paramount importance to me that I counteract the effects of the champagne, especially since I still wasn't thinking very clearly.
There was still a bit of a line at the buffet table, but I finally managed to start picking up some little delicacies. Best of all, no one thought to talk to me, and that precluded any stress of having to make pleasant and banal conversation back. I was too stressed out anyway. Thinking about the kiss—and the fact I'd had an erection—wasn't the tough part. Thinking about not thinking about the kiss and erection was the trick. That was what made things so stressful.
All the times in my life when I pulled a boner, and here I actually had one.
The more I thought about it, though, the more it stayed. If I tried not to think about it, I ended up thinking about it anyway, mostly because I was hoping to God no one saw it. I had to think about something else, something that was unrelated to anything currently going on.
"Oh, wow!” The woman next to me exclaimed and tapped on my shoulder. “What are those little things there on your plate?"
"Uh...” I turned to face her and almost jumped out of my skin! As much as I was trying not to think about sex, there in front of me was a blonde in her thirties scantily clad in one of the tightest, most revealing excuses for a dress I'd ever seen. To make matters worse, she was incredibly well-endowed. “They're rib tits...” I couldn't help but look at them, but I quickly realized my faux pas. “Tips! Sorry, rib tips.” I tried to laugh it off.
"Where did you get them?” she asked, politely pretending to ignore my little slip. After all, anyone wearing a dress like that had to know they were going to draw attention to themselves. “I think they ran out of cheese sticks, and those look like the next best thing."
"Um, well, you must have missed them. They were back with the breast of the meat.” I shook my head. God, I was looking like an ass! “Rest ... of the meat. Long night.” I hoped she didn't come with a boyfriend or husband who would twist my little girly man self up into a pretzel after talking to her that way. Why did she have to talk to me in the first place? Didn't she know? Couldn't she see how red and nervous I was?
I attempted some sort of explanation. “I-I apologize. I just don't get out very often, and my social graces are a bit busty ... lusty ... rusty! Look...” I pointed somewhere behind her. “...there's Rusty.” She turned to look, too. “Oh, damn, he disappeared into the house.” My recovery sucked! “I better go look for him."
"Have you been drinking?” She caught my shoulder with her hand.
"Yeah, it, uh ... it shows, doesn't it? I'm a little titsy ... tipsy.” I put my hand up so she wouldn't say another word. We were both aware I was making a royal asshole out of myself, but I didn't want her to publicly acknowledge it because I had no intentions of being around anybody else the rest of the night.
At that moment, Jordan and my two homosexual cousins walked up and stood in line. That didn't bother me, but Jordan looked at me and winked. I had to get out of there!
"I'm just going to go inside and see if I can scare up a waiter to bring you out some more of those cheese dicks ... sticks."
This night sucked!
* * * *
I spent the rest of the evening either out on the front porch or inside the house in one of the guest rooms watching Golden Girls on TV. Maybe I was feeling a bit sorry for myself, because I didn't feel I could rejoin the party and have a good time. How in the hell did my vacation suddenly become so complicated?
I only had one issue getting on that plane and that was my virginity. I wanted to lose it! However, losing it to a guy was not foremost on my wish list.
I really didn't want to deal with that right now.
I would poke my head out every once in a while and find Grandma, make sure she was okay and try and determine what time we were leaving so I would know when to come out. Finally, about midnight, the four of us crammed back into Uncle Chester's economy car and headed back to their place. This time, however, I arranged the suitcase on my lap.
"That was an absolutely gorgeous party!” Grandma remarked once we were back on the freeway. I think we all would have enjoyed silence, but she was probably worried Uncle Chester would fall asleep at the wheel. “Leon and Carma looked so happy. Actually, everybody looke
d happy."
"That's because they were all drinking to forget their troubles and had amnesia by the end of the night,” I commented, overtired and ornery.
"Don't you dare get insolent!” Grandma snapped. “You don't know what you're talking about!” It was easier to dismiss me this way than admit some people actually had problems. “Those people are adults and have taken care of themselves for years. A little drink at a party isn't going to hurt anyone."
"A little drink?” Who was she kidding? Probably herself, because she was toasted. “Grandma, the shortest distance those people were traveling from any given place was two pints. As far as taking care of themselves, if it wasn't for the slivers of fruit, cherries and olives, some of them would have starved to death."
"You know, Anson...” Uncle Chester sternly looked over at me. “...you're the reason why adults in this country used to hold the rule that ‘children should be seen and not heard’ so dearly."
How did his wife ever put up with him? She didn't drink. In fact, I think Aunt Virginia and I were the two people at the party who were sober. I only had soft drinks after the incident with Jordan.
Well, I had no intention of fighting with him, even though I had a comeback and the urge to make it verbal. He and Aunt Virginia were putting us up at their place for the night. At least, I think it was only for the night. To be honest, I hadn't thought that far ahead. We were going to be in California for six days, and I had no idea what the arrangements were.
This wasn't good.
Sometime later—I don't know how long it had been because I'd dozed off—we entered Sun City and pulled into the driveway of what looked to be one of the newer houses in the subdivision, which itself looked new. From what I could see by the streetlights, none of the houses looked the same, but all were extremely impressive in their archi-tecture. They weren't mansions, by any means, but they were unique for what I guessed to be a retirement community.
I wondered what Uncle Chester had done for a job during his working years to be able to afford a place like this. It had the potential to really be something grand, and I say potential because the area was still new. Lawns and landscaping had yet to be finished, and there was still quite a few dirt piles to be taken care of, especially in Uncle Chester's front yard.