Dear Adam,
I'm in trouble.
I met this guy. He reminds me a lot of you. I'd put him at a perfect zero-point-zero on the dominance scale. Now normally, you'd think this would thrill me, no? I mean, after all, I am doing a dissertation on methods of control and domination in male interpersonal relations. The problem is that he wants to do it with me. No, that's not the problem. I'm a perfect six-point-zero, as you so aptly discovered and taught me. Of course he wants to do it with me. I'm a natural foil for him. The problem is that I'm trying to fight off his advances. That means I'm right back in the middle of the fog that comes over me when I try to resist an alpha male.
The problem is Dan.
What the hell do I do, Adam? We both know that when it comes to alpha males, I'm just a boy who cain't say 'no'. And while Dan never said we should be monogamous or anything, I still feel like I have some responsibility to keeping loyal to him.
Actually, Adam, come to think of it, Dan and I never quite talked about what status we would have once I left. Isn't that funny? I kept expecting him to bring it up, and he never did. Then, whenever I did, he'd change the subject somehow - usually by fucking me. You know how fast that shuts me up! So what the fuck do I do?
In other news, school is going pretty well, and the work for the diss comes along nicely. How's Colorado Springs? How's training with the big boys? I saw you on ESPN the other day. Your floor routine is coming along really well. I know it's your weakest event. You must be putting a lot of work into it. Especially liked your second tumbling pass. Tacking on the double salto and walkover going backwards toward the center of the mat at the end of the combination was really brilliant. You get to show off your strength in an event designed for speed and agility!
Corey is here and has latched onto me. I'm getting the impression that he wants something from me, but I don't know what it is. I wonder if he knows, and if he does, if he'd tell me? Do you know?
Fuck. Door.
Speak of the devil. It's late now. That was Corey. Maybe you can tell me what's going on. Will you indulge me? Can I paint the scene for you?
The boy shows up at my door, unannounced, wearing a mesh football half-shirt and shorts. He's definitely turned into a little hottie, by the way.
"Hi," he said at the door. "I had this paper due. I was hoping you could proof it for me. You're always writing shit..."
I laughed. "That's just it, unfortunately," I said. "Writing shit."
He pushed by me into the apartment as if I had invited him in and splayed himself on the couch in a perfectly sexual way. Knees apart, arms wide on the back of the couch, foot up on the coffee table. A complete Come-Fuck-Me pose, you know what I mean?
"Why, Mrs. Robinson, are you trying to seduce me?" I asked.
"Huh?"
"Never mind. So what's this paper about?" I asked, picking it up from the coffee table where he had dropped it. "Classical and Operant Conditioning. You're taking a psych class?" He nodded. "Cool. So what have you got to say about our dear Mr. Skinner?"
I started scanning the text. You know the impression we have that Corey isn't all that bright? Well let's put it this way: it's a good thing he's pretty.
Actually, he getting quite pretty. He's put on weight. Some seriously nice curves to him now. And he has the cutest little treasure trail. It's thick and almost white. The hair on the top of his head is getting darker, though his eyebrows have stayed light which gives him a very interesting, open-faced look. And that mesh! Jesus. How can something so tacky look so sexy?
Oh, you're laughing, aren't you? Me - Mark - drooling over Corey! Well, a) fuck you. Shut up; b) he really has become hotter; c) I can appreciate his form without wanting to do him; and d) fuck you. Shut up. Anyway, it gets better.
"Here you talk about fixed-ratio reward schedules," I said. You should probably mention that this one is best for learning a new behavior. And in the examples you give, here where you talk about your girlfriend, you say...wait, you have a girlfriend?"
"Yeah, why?"
"Like, an anatomically correct one?"
"Sure," he said, dropping his foot to the floor and crossing his arms and legs. Interesting. "Girls fight over me, dude. I'm hot." The old defensiveness had crept back into his voice.
"You are, indeed, Corey," I said as palliatively as I could. "And getting hotter every year. You can probably get any girl you wanted."
"Thanks," he said guardedly.
"I just didn't think you'd want one."
"Why not?"
I laughed, which was probably the wrong thing to do. "Aren't you gay?"
"No," he said way too quickly.
"You're not?"
"No. I can't be gay."
"You can't be?"
"No. You want to finish the paper?"
"No, honey, I want to continue this conversation," I said. He stood up and pretended to look at some books on my shelves. "You can't be gay? What's that supposed to mean?"
"I'm going to the Olympics," he said, "so I can't be gay."
I laughed again. "Of course you can be gay and be in the Olympics," I said.
"Tons of Olympic athletes are gay."
"Oh yeah? In judged sports?" he asked. "How many endorsements they get? How many of them go pro when they're done?"
"So the world sucks. That's not news. Change it. Be the first."
"That ain't me, Mark," he said turning back to look at me. "That's you. I don't do that shit. And I wanna be on the cover of a Wheaties box. So I have to be straight, and I am."
"Corey," I said tenderly, suddenly feeling a tremendous amount of compassion for him, "who you are isn't necessarily the same as who you do. That you have a girlfriend doesn't change what your orientation is. The real question isn't what people think about you, or even what you think about yourself. The real question is when you jack off, who do you dream about? Boys or girls?" He stared at me sullenly without answering. "Or maybe just boy?" I added. He returned his attention to the bookcase.
"I don't want to talk about this."
"Sure you do. That's why you came over."
"No, I came over because of my paper."
"Corey, my guess is I'm the only person within a couple hundred miles who knows about...your particular past. If you didn't want to talk about it, you'd be avoiding me like a Baptist avoids watery grits. But you're here. You've sought out the only person you can talk about it with."
"You're the only person I know here."
"You mean aside from your girlfriend? And your teammates? Corey, you've turned into a total hunk. You could..."
"You think so?" he asked turning back around to face me. I had to laugh, if for nothing else than the insecure incongruity of it.
"Yeah, kid. You're a total hunk. But that's my point. You can hang out with anyone you want to. And yet, here you are."
"Wasting my time with a total fag," he said after a long pause.
Adam, the kid was in torment. It was in his eyes. He had struggled for a while with what he wanted to say, but lost. What came out was, instead, classic Asshole Corey. But there's a human in there. I saw it, if only for a second. I swear it!
He snatched his paper off the coffee table and stormed out of the apartment.
So there's Corey. I had lost track of him once the summer was over. Do you know what's going on with him? First of all, he seems to think he's going to go to the Olympics. Does he have a chance? Second, he seems to be presenting the illusion that he isn't gay to the world and, worse, to himself. What the hell is with that? I mean, I understand being in the closet - but that's taking it a bit far, don't you think? Did anything happen between the two of you that I should know about?
Well, anyway, back to the problem at hand. Dan. I'm not stupid, Adam. I know what you'd do if you were here. You'd sit there for twenty minutes listening to me drone frenetically on and on then slap me and tell me to get a fucking hold of myself. You'd tell me to stop boring the living fuck out of you, and to call Dan and talk to him. Then you'd make me cum in some evil way. I miss you. :)
After Corey did his little diva man walking routine I took a couple of hits of JD and did it. I called him. I told him about the alpha and asked him what I should do. He said, "do what you need to do, little man." That's all I could get out of him. Do what you need to do. What the hell is that supposed to mean? Sometimes you boys really, really piss me off.
So that's it. The rest of the conversation was wonderful, but made me feel really lonely. I wish the two of you were here. I'm thinking now that I'll be ready for some trials in about a month. How does that fit into your schedule?
Looking forward to hearing from you,
Mark
Dear Doug-man,
Just a quick note to say I was thinking about you today. At dinner I saw a girl eat an entire banana in one bite on a bet. Got her phone number in case you should ever visit. Hope all is well,
Mark